His grin was faint, but real. "You remembered," he said.
"Of course. I just wish those magic jalapeno barbecue fries were in reach of us. But I guess we'll have to settle for chili cheddar onion rings instead."
He slid the jewelry box in front of her. "Happy anniversary," he said. "I picked this out a couple of weeks ago," he added, as she untied the glossy ribbon surrounding it. "I thought ... well, I planned to give it to you at dinner tomorrow night, but ...."
Danielle was breathless as she lifted the lid. Inside, a small diamond pendant shaped like a flower lay nestled on a velvet cushion. The tiny stones and the white gold chain caught the light, shimmering beautifully.
"Oh, Logan," she whispered. "It's beautiful." Her voice was soft. "Thank you." She lifted her gaze from the box. "You shouldn't have. It must have cost you a fortune."
His face reddened. "Don't think of it like that," he said. "I saw it and thought of you. I thought you'd like it."
"I love it," she answered. She noticed that Logan wasn't saying much. His choice of words was uncertain. Without him saying anything else, she knew something was wrong. Usually, Logan would be laughing and joking, his pleased grin in place for managing to surprise her like this.
"Danni," he said. "There's something we need to talk about." His voice tightened.
Danni's heart skipped a beat, the next one thudding harder with fear. "Logan?" she said.
"I'm being transferred," he said. "They told me at work last week. There's a major project involving a team of designers and sales to launch a software platform for a new smart phone. It's a great opportunity. But ... it's halfway across the country. And it's not a choice."
Danni was speechless. Logan's voice was miserable. He wouldn't look at her, looking instead at the table, at his coffee cup, at the bud vase between them on the table.
"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked, softly.
"I was waiting for the right time," he said. "I didn't know how to tell you. I didn't know what to say. I don't want to lose you —"
"You won't." She touched his hand, holding it tightly. "You won't lose me."
"We're talking about a long-distance relationship, Danni. That's not what you imagined this would be," he said. "I know you. You need a physical connection, an actual presence in a relationship."
"And I'll have that," she answered. "This is the modern age of smart phones and webcams. I can see you every day, even if you're halfway across the country. I can look into your eyes, hear your voice. It won't be exactly the same, but it will be you, and that's what matters to me."
"Would that be enough for you?" he asked, softly.
"More than enough," she answered. "I won't lose you."
She was still holding tight to his hand. Logan's free one covered hers now, his fingers warm and reassuring. His eyes looked at her with a mix of tenderness and regret, with gratitude that she was so understanding.
"I love you," she said.
With a rush of feeling, she knew this was true. It had been true for a long time, but it was the first time she had said those words to him without a joking, teasing manner.
She could see the surprise flash through his gaze. No — more like wonder. His lips parted, but he was speechless.
"You don't have to say anything back," she said. "I'm not asking for that. I'm just being honest about how I feel." She looked into his eyes firmly, wanting him to know this was true.
"I feel the same way about you," he answered. "I have for a long time. Maybe since before we were together," he added, his cheeks reddening briefly, "as corny as that sounds. But I cared about you long before that moment."
"Things will be fine," said Danni. She squeezed his hand tightly, as if afraid she would lose it somehow. "You'll see. It'll be like nothing has changed."
"It's for almost five months," said Logan. "I think it'll seem longer."
"Weeks, at most," Danni answered. She smiled at him. She wouldn't cry, or let him see tears gathering in her eyes. She wouldn't let her voice betray how much it hurt, the idea of being apart from him for so long.
"I'll miss you every second of it," he said.
"Not when we're talking," she said. "Not when you're across from me at the breakfast table, or having lunch with me at a cafe —"
"Don't forget the slight time difference," he reminded her.
"It's okay. I won't expect you to eat. Just watch me eat."
He grinned, faintly. "I see," he answered.
She hesitated. "When do you leave?" she asked.
"The first of May," he answered. "A little less than a month from now."
"We have a month," she said. "See, that works the complete opposite of you leaving. It's like having all the time in the world. It will not fly by instantly, but will last as long as we can make it last."
Logan said nothing. He closed the distance between them, resting his head against hers. His eyes were closed, but his breathing told Danni how much pain he was feeling right now. She slid her arms around him, and felt his own hold her tightly in response.
"It will be okay," she whispered against his shoulder, her voice muffled by his wool coat. "You'll see. I promise."
****
She promised herself she wouldn't cry in front of Logan. Not that day, or the day when she drove him to the airport, and said goodbye to him. Not when she watched his plane take off, knowing it would carry him halfway across the country to a new life, one that was supposed to be temporary, yet seemed so long.
She kept that promise. She tried hard not to picture the coming months without him, without the ability to hold his hand, or touch his face, or kiss him goodnight over and over after an evening out with him.
I'm not going to cry. She ordered a plain black coffee at Pauline's, something strong that would drown out the sorrow building inside her. Through the windows of the cafe, rain was streaming, forming puddles in the street. Her coat and hair were soaked from the water pouring outside the airport terminal. She should be shivering, but she was too unhappy to be aware how cold she felt.
He'd be back for a weekend in June, and one in August. She could look forward to seeing him then. And, in the meantime, the passion that made her and Logan argue, that drove them both crazy, yet crazy about each other — that would keep them together. They would get through this and be fine.
Sitting down at the table, she took a long sip of coffee. It was bitter and dark, so Danni made a face not unlike Logan's whenever he tried one of the cafe's outlandish specials. It made her think of him again, and the fact that she was drinking his favorite flavor, the one she compared him to once before.
The first tears came. They spilled across Danni's cheeks, because she couldn't fight to keep them inside any longer. She put her head down between her arms, crying quietly as raindrops streaked the glass of Pauline's windows.
Satellite Café
May
Danni adjusted her laptop's position on the table. Her strawberry mocha surprise was growing cold at her elbow as she checked the time once more, then the strength of Pauline's wireless signal.
She took a deep breath and released it, slowly. She was excited, as she always was in the minutes before seeing Logan again. Yes, it was from a thousand miles away, and not the same as being with him in person. She had to admit that after the first few rocky connections, and the gradual feeling of emptiness replaced the hopefulness she felt whenever her door buzzer sounded, or she caught a glimpse of a guy with brown hair on the street. Texts and emails, video webchats weren't the same as having Logan with her, but they would do.
She called Logan and waited. A moment later, he appeared on the screen. In the background, the drab little apartment space where he was living, furnished with a green spidery plant which had become all too familiar to Danni over the last couple of weeks.
"Hi," she said. Folding her arms, she settled comfortably across from the computer screen.
"Are you at Pauline's?" he asked, surprised.
"Of course," she said.
"You don't think I'd miss our coffee date just because you're halfway across the country? That's no excuse. I'm not letting you off the hook that easily."
The sound of his laugh warmed her heart, melting away the last of her anxiety. She had positioned her computer across from her at the table, where Logan would sit if he were here. As close to normal as she could make things.
"So," she said. "What's happening?"
"Um, well...I got another plant," he said.
It was her turn to laugh. "A plant?" she echoed.
"It was homeless. Somebody left it by the dumpster to die. I thought I'd do the decent thing and rescue it." He disappeared from the screen for a moment, returning with a battered basket-weave pot, a green jungle of leaves towering above the rim. "I think it's some kind of Japanese peace lily."
"Oh, well, if it was homeless.…" began Danni.
"I got a waffle iron and a hot pot, simply because I can't keep eating out. Between the calories and the cholesterol, anyway."
"Did you find a place to go running yet?" she asked. She knew how important it was to Logan to keep it as part of his routine. He told her once before he felt it was his only way to outstrip old ideas or plans that he was putting behind him. 'Better than journaling,' he joked, once, since his journal never seemed to help him work through anything.
"Right now, it's the nearest park. But it's not a safe spot, really. I'm thinking about getting a gym membership, someplace with an indoor track. I miss the fresh air, but it's the smarter choice." He settled into his desk chair, trying to look more comfortable, and failing. "What about you?" he asked. "What's new?"
She swallowed hard. "Not much," she answered. "I'm helping Gabby plan a wedding shower," she said. "And work is ... you know. Work."
"Who's your latest author?"
"It's still Sellars. The book's not due out until next spring." She paused. "In between, I'm doing some writing," she said. She let this statement hang in the air.
"You're writing? Fiction?" he asked.
"You could call it that." A funny smile on her lips for these words. "Anyway, I'm just fooling around with some words. I'll see what happens."
"I think it'll be great," he answered. "Your boss told you that your instincts are dead on. You have the talent, Danni."
Her cheeks burned scarlet. "I don't know about that," she answered, evasively. "I just want to do it for me, mostly."
"I'm proud of you," he answered. "Go for it, Danni." His smile was so familiar, it made Danni forget about the distance between them.
"I saw your friend Eric on Monday," she said. "I forgot to text you — he says he'll be out your way in July and wanted to know if you'd like to get together for the holiday weekend."
Logan sucked in his breath. "Yeah, I'd love to, but I have plans already," he said. "I, um, told my parents I'd fly home for a weekend."
He looked uncomfortable. Danni wondered if his plans had been different beforehand — maybe ones involving her, before things changed. Now he was having to split his precious vacation days between her and everyone else he loved.
"I should call him," Logan continued. "I called Rob and Jamison since I've settled in, but Eric's always gone."
"You know Eric," scoffed Danni. "Probably chasing down a hot new video game release. He still hasn't forgiven you for changing jobs, by the way."
"Yeah, I cut off his supply," said Logan, with a sheepish grin. "But at least he still speaks to me."
They both fell silent for a moment. "How's work?" she asked.
"Great. Stressful. One moment we're in meetings for what feels like ten hours straight ... the next, I'm sleeping until eleven A.M. This software platform is huge. One team of developers worries about one tiny part, while another team designs the whole package ... I wish I could describe it so it all makes sense."
"I can imagine," she answered. "You must be exhausted."
"I get plenty of sleep in between," he said. "And plenty of espresso and black coffee."
"Put some cream in it for me," she said, her lips forming a tiny smile.
"I will," he promised.
"I miss you."
"I miss you, too."
She swallowed the lump in her throat. "Have you met anybody interesting?" she said. "Your new coworkers — a fun bunch?"
He laughed. "I wouldn't know," he answered. "We mostly talk about work and software design, and not much else thus far. There are three on my team right now. Lisa, Chad, and Noel. I know that Chad's a fan of The Bachelor, apparently."
"That's interesting," said Danni, with a laugh — but in the back of her mind, she was isolating Lisa's name for future subtle details. Lisa who might be a gorgeous software-programming genius, who would find Logan's plain coffee and good looks irresistible.
"The only thing I've done for fun is spend a lunch hour at one of the museums," he continued. "But there's a pub not far from my apartment where local bands play on the weekends. I might try to catch a concert or two."
"Let me know if you hear anybody good, whom you just know will be famous someday," said Danni.
"I will. But it'll make me think of our last big evening out," said Logan. "Your surprise concert tickets. That was probably the best gift anybody ever gave me, by the way. That evening was ... perfect. Every part of it."
"I'm glad." Do not make me cry, she threatened him, silently and fiercely, even though she was still smiling. "I wanted it to be special."
"Maybe when I get back, we can do it again," he said. "This time we'll go see one of the singer songwriters you used to follow locally. Some of them play the downtown clubs. Weekend shows, wild crowds .…"
"We'll get sliders afterwards," she said. "We'll split a milkshake. Vanilla — your favorite."
"A banana split. With whipped cream and a cherry," said Logan.
"It's a date," she said. "As soon as you're back." Only three weeks away, she told herself. She made a mental note to find a concert playing that weekend and download the menu to the best possible burger joint on that side of town.
Coffee Critique
July
"So what did you think?"
Danni waited anxiously for his answer. She tried not to fidget in her chair, one foot wrapped around its front leg.
Three days ago, she had sent him a copy of her book, what she'd written thus far. A rough draft, to be sure — there were still notes typed at random, where she was planning to change parts of it — but it was all of her work thus far, in its glorious raw state.
She had wanted someone to read it for ages. And there was no one whose opinion mattered to her as much as Logan's would. She trusted him that much.
"What did I think about what?" Logan asked, sounding dumbfounded.
As soon as Danni's face filled with indignation, he backed off. "I'm kidding," he promised. "I know what you mean."
"Don't scare me like that," she scolded.
"Sorry. Just trying to ease your nerves a little," he said. "Relax, Danni. I can see your muscles are all tense." His smile was lopsided. "I'm not an editor going to eat you."
"Editors don't eat people. I know," she reminded him.
"True. But they can eat people's souls, as is evident by the number of crushed, bewildered writers who end up crying over their rejected manuscripts."
"So are you going to tell me or not?" She pretended to be very interested in the contents of her coffee cup, which had grown cold fifteen minutes ago.
"You sure you want me to tell you?"
"Logan!"
"Okay." He smiled. "To start with, I liked your characters. I thought Rob was very real. I thought Ginny seemed like a perfect choice. Exactly the girl-next-door type that guys tend to fall in love with."
"What about Laney?" asked Danni.
"Hmmm. That's complex. I think a lot of readers would wonder why Rob would love her so much even after it was obvious they weren't meant to be together. But love is inexplicable sometimes in life, too. I mean, everybody knows a couple who seem to stay together despite ma
jor differences. Or opposites attracted for no apparent reason."
"Like us," said Danni, with a teasing grin.
"Not like us. I think our relationship has plenty of evidence to justify its existence."
"So back to Rob and Ginny," said Danni. She still felt nervous, even though Logan was businesslike, yet comforting. "Did you think their romance seemed ... real? Passionate? I mean, I know it's understated — it's subtle, and there's not a lot of physical contact —" She was babbling now, she knew, and made herself stop and take a slow breath.
"I think it was a little subtle, yes. For what your future readers want, anyway."
"What do you mean?"
"If your audience is the average romance reader, they'll expect more than just glances and feelings, and an occasional touch," said Logan. "Plus, they might expect Rob to be ... well, how should I put it? More like a hero, and less like a real guy."
Indignation crept over Danni, even though she knew better. Every writer felt this defensive about their work, and every editor knew their next word might tread on sensitive toes — she knew this was true, only she'd never been on this side of the critique before.
"I think real guys deserve a shot at romance, too," she said. "I wanted Rob to seem more like a real person. Someone with integrity, but not a lot of animal passion or aggressive behavior, who would say things to Ginny that no real man would ever say. The kind of man who would stick with a relationship promise, even if the person was the wrong one for him."
"Yeah, but your readers expect him to be unrealistic, don't they?" he asked. "A fantasy of some kind, right? Or is this not about readers, and just about you?"
She struggled to control her feelings. "I was aiming for something closer to women's fiction," she said. "Where a conventional romance doesn't have to be the main plot. Or the only plot."
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