"Me?" he repeated. "When have I had lunch with an old girlfriend?" Not Doris, who deleted him from her social media friends list. And Rachel was hundreds of miles away, and probably married to someone else by now.
"Lisa." Danni pronounced the name like she was mentioning a disease.
He racked his brain. "Lisa?...wait, Lisa from work?" He remembered the girl from his old development team, the one he worked with during his transfer. "Her?"
"Yes." Danni shrugged. "After you'd been gone a couple of months, she started cropping up in conversations. I couldn't help noticing. I knew you worked closely together, and I couldn't help wondering if you were attracted to her."
"Of course not," he snapped. "There was no possibility, ever. Have you even seen Lisa?" He said it in a way that implied she was a hundred and two, a grandmother who knitted mittens on the weekends. Maybe Danni would buy it and let go of this ridiculous idea.
"Yes. On your social media page," said Danni. She gave him a look.
"Oh. Right." He fell silent. Clearly, that defense was pointless.
"That photo of the four of you at the theater?" said Danni. "She was squeezed in so close to you, and smiling so big ... I let my imagination get carried away the night I saw it, picturing her squeezing your hand in the theater, and making seductive eyes at you from the other side of a conference table. I seriously wanted you to transfer home that second."
"Lisa wasn't attracted to me. She had a boyfriend, a nice guy who happened to be out of town that weekend."
"Well, you never mentioned him in your emails."
"It's not like I knew him that well." He was feeling helpless and defensive now, as if Danni had uncovered some sort of secret attraction for Lisa he had never noticed before.
"See?" said Danni. "I sound suspicious, right? That's exactly how you sounded when you asked about Joe. A person I will never again be interested in romantically pursuing."
He released a long breath. "Point taken," he said.
"It makes you a little uncomfortable, doesn't it?" she said. "Talking about the past, I mean. Finding out all the things I did that weren't perfect. Telling me all the things you did that weren't perfect, either." She nudged aside her coffee cup. "It didn't when we were friends."
"It's not you," he said. "It's me. I wish I had pictured the two of us somehow...that I could have imagined you in my future. Maybe I wouldn't have made as many mistakes if I had believed someone like you was out there."
He might not have dated Rachel, who was never really in love with him, if he had believed a person existed out there who would feel passion for him. If he had believed in the first place that Danni might fall in love with him, he might have avoided the pointless two months he spent with Doris, who had been so obsessed with perfection in their relationship.
"I had a lot of bad dates, too," she reminded him. "But nobody knows when they first meet someone how it's going to turn out. When I met you, I thought you were the biggest jerk. I never thought I would be in love with you."
"Sometimes you know," he answered. "I knew with Doris there wasn't a future. Deep inside, I knew it with Rachel, too." He smiled, wryly. "And I think you knew that Rick wasn't the one. Despite his athletic prowess."
"Okay, okay, maybe there were a few I should have avoided," she answered. She smiled at him, a twinkle in her eyes. "But I can't imagine what it would be like not falling in love with you," she said. "I'm glad I didn't let that first impression be the last."
"Can't imagine," he repeated. "What do you imagine, when you think about us?"
"Anything and everything," she answered. "You?"
He sucked in a deep breath. "I see you as a part of my life for a long, long time," he said. "I see you coming with me this Christmas to meet my family, and them loving you as much as I do."
"Not as much," she protested. "Ick." He grinned in response.
"Not that much," he amended. "But honestly? The rest is true."
"I imagine telling them how we first met," she said. "How I talked you into quitting your job —"
"Let's leave that story at home," he suggested.
" — and how I plan to drive off all the women who admire you by cyber stalking them and sending them threatening letters and dead daisies until they steer clear of you for life."
"What else do you see?" he said. "Short of maybe prison time for that last plan."
"I see myself saying 'no,' to every other guy who asks me out from now on," she said. "Until I'm a hundred years old in a nursing home, fending off elderly male patients' romantic offerings of mums and sugar-free chocolates with my quad cane."
"There's a lot of violence in your picture of the future," Logan noted.
"You're worth it."
What if I'm not? he wanted to say. There's still a chance this is just temporary; that someday we're talking to other people about each other, and we're strangers once again.
Maybe it happened to the Scrabble-loving couple at the neighboring table. Maybe they had been picturing a future when that relationship was already destined to become their past. Getting this close made him more afraid that he would lose it. More determined than anything to hold onto it, and make Danni see that he cared enough to do it.
He took her hand. "What makes you sure this is your future?" he asked, softly. "That we won't change our minds down the road? I want to know if there's a chance you still have doubts about me."
Her expression changed. "Why do you say that?" She frowned.
"Because I want to know how to keep us together," he said. "What I need to say or do to prevent us from burning that bridge someday. Because I'm pretty sure this is what I want. And if that's how you picture the future, I don't want you to turn back, either."
This felt like the moment to propose. He sensed it, and he could see from Danni's expression that she sensed it, too. But now wasn't the place or time he wanted to do it. Not on a random Saturday afternoon when they were arguing about movies and ex-dates.
She was thinking about his words. Her smile had become a reassuring one. "I see ... us at the movies," she said. "At three o' clock. You and me holding hands in the middle row for some horror picture, so I can bury my face in your shoulder when I feel squeamish."
The moment was past. He sensed it, and was relieved. Trust Danni to know that it wasn't the right moment, either.
"How about we start with that, and work our way gradually towards us in the nursing home?" he asked.
"Sounds like a plan," she answered.
He finished his coffee and set the cup aside, revealing a second coffee ring on the movie ads. It crossed the first one, almost forming a heart.
"Look," said Danni. "A sign." She tapped it, then looked at him with a playful smile. "I think it's a good omen for us."
"Come on." He held out his arm. "There's a long line for the alien movie at the box office. I don't want to catch a comedy, where you'll be too busy laughing to snuggle against me."
"Just don't let us turn into one of those boring couples who are more excited by our boxes of movie candy than each other."
"I think I can promise you that," he answered, as Danni collected her coat and they walked towards the door. Glancing back as he opened it for her, he saw another couple had taken their place at the table, glancing over the movie ads and pointing to the one encircled by the coffee heart.
Maybe that was a good sign, too. He smiled, and let the door swing closed behind them.
Ugly Sweater
December
"Sorry I'm late." Danni bundled her coat into the third empty chair at the table. "Margaret wanted a last-minute meeting over Lauren Jenkins' final proof, and I couldn't get away." She plopped down across from him, smoothing her hair which felt horribly rumpled by her hat. "Did you tell them?"
"I did," Logan said. "And they're excited. They can't believe I'm bringing home a date."
"I'm actually nervous," she said. "I've never met anybody's parents. Not officially, I mean. I met my high school boyfriend's, but
that's because they lived two blocks away."
The mere thought of meeting Logan's parents released butterflies in her stomach — and tied knots the next second. Would they like her? Did they like any of his other girlfriends, or would they group her in with brief, unsuitable choices like manic Doris and snobby Rachel?
"Don't be," he assured her. "They'll love you. Trust me."
"I do. I'm just nervous." She rubbed her hands together, then cupped the warm coffee Logan had preordered for her — a Holiday Nutmeg Latte, she noticed. He knows me so well.
"You were nervous when you met my parents, weren't you?" she asked.
"A little. Your father, especially." She couldn't be sure, but she thought Logan shivered a little. "He seemed a little suspicious of me."
"He's that way to every guy I've dated. But he really liked you," she said. "Believe me, I can always tell."
Actually, her family had loved him. Her mother adored him, and constantly peppered Danni with questions about Logan. Even her brother, who usually mocked Danni's dates, had begrudgingly admitted that putting up with Logan at the next family Thanksgiving wouldn't be the worst catastrophe he could imagine. Which was code for approving of the match, Danni knew.
"I didn't get that vibe," said Logan. "I think he thinks I'm too reserved. And too dull for you."
"He knows I need a reserved guy," she said. "If I picked somebody as impetuous as me, I'd never be grounded. I'd be drifting across America, panhandling or something. I'd be covered in tattoos, and dating some guy who plays the guitar on street corners for a living."
Logan laughed at this picture. "Were you dating a panhandling street performer at one time?"
"Maybe," she answered, coyly. "I can't tell you every ex-boyfriend story I have. I might scare you away." She took another sip from her cup. "Mmm, this is delicious," she said. "Have some."
He shook his head. "I tried a little already," he said.
"Ah." She set it aside. "I know better than to ask a second time."
He reached under the table. "I have something for you," he said.
"You do?" It was early for their official anniversary of becoming a couple, she knew. That would be New Year's Eve, technically. And they'd stopped celebrating monthly anniversary ages ago.
"Close your eyes," he said. "No peeking." Obediently, Danielle closed them tightly, waiting for his signal. She heard a paper sack rustle, and smelled the unfamiliar scent of air fresheners and fabric softeners.
"Okay," he said. She opened her eyes. In Logan's hands was a sweater.
A hideously ugly holiday sweater, featuring a singing cartoon tallow candle straight out of a nursery rhymes book, and a wreath made of green fringe yarn that resembled shag carpeting. In fact, the whole thing resembled a yarn rug turned into a fashion garment.
Her look of horror melted away as she realized what he was holding. "For me?" she said. "Oh, Logan ...."
"It's tradition, as you already know," he said. "I saw it on a bargain rack and thought it looked exactly like something that a little old grandmother would knit for her teenage grandson. In a word — hideous."
"Thanks." She wrinkled her nose, then took the sweater from him and held it up. "What do you think? How will I look in it?"
"Beautiful," he answered.
His smile wasn't a teasing one. For a moment, this wasn't a joke, but a tender, serious milestone. Danni wasn't certain what to feel, as if she was caught between two worlds. She buried her face in the sweater, breathing in the mixture of smells that suggested a secondhand store's vigorous cleaning process.
"There's something else," he said. "I thought I'd wait to give you this ... but I just can't." He pulled a small box from his pocket. Danni's heart thudded — with panic or excitement, which one she wasn't sure — as he popped the lid. Revealing a hollow plastic red bulb nestled inside, attached to a rubber band.
"A reindeer nose?" She smacked his arm. "Logan —"
"It's not a requirement per se," he began.
"I am not wearing that!" It was all she could do not to laugh, and her smile was having a hard time hiding itself behind her indignation. "Forget it."
"All right. Suit yourself. But you'll feel very left out when my Aunt Marsha breaks out her neon light Christmas brooch." He placed the box on the table.
"So where's your sweater?" she asked, folding hers onto her lap.
"Glad you asked." He dug into the sack and pulled out a second one. "This is my contribution to the family gathering."
It was equally ugly — this one was a bright purple, featuring snowmen having a snowball fight. The tiny snowballs were fuzzy white pompoms sewn haphazardly over the sweater's surface; clear glitter was sprinkled over the snowflakes.
"It's definitely hideous," she said. "I see what drew you to it."
"I know. I think I'll have a shot at winning this year." He inspected it proudly, as if he'd landed a bargain on a Hugo Boss suit instead.
"What do you win?" she asked, curiously. She had never thought to ask until now.
"A white elephant gift," he answered. "Usually it's a really cheap box of chocolates. Unless my mom's buying it this year — she likes tacky holiday novelty items."
"Don't wear that sweater," she said, impulsively. "Wear the one you bought last year, the one with the mistletoe."
"Why?" He looked puzzled.
"Because it's mistletoe," she said. "You have someone there to stand under it with you this time." She smiled. "You want to give your grandmother a perfect photo, don't you?"
The look on his face was worth it. He didn't say anything, but she knew he was imagining the two of them at the party, as if living every moment of that night before it happened. It would be perfect in his mind, right down to the two of them beneath the plastic clump of green leaves and pearly beads. A kiss under the mistletoe with the girl he loved, something she knew he had always wanted.
"The snowmen could wait a year," he said. He shoved the sweater back into the bag. "There will be snow, by the way. I don't know if you're much of a sledding fan, but there's a great hill behind our house."
"I love sledding," she answered. "It's been years, but I don't think you forget how." She laid aside the sweater, on top of his own. "And I want to see the doughnut place where you worked in high school."
"I can't take you home and not take you there," he answered. "If only for the famous chocolate and pumpkin doughnuts."
"Chocolate and pumpkin?" she echoed. "How could you not tell me about those?"
"Because I was afraid you'd crave them forever and they would be out of reach," he said. "This way you can buy a dozen boxes and freeze them, and eat them for the rest of your life if you want."
She picked at the button on her coat. "I'm still nervous," she said. "I don't want to be. But I can't help imagining how I’ll feel if it goes wrong."
"Nothing will go wrong," he said. "Like I said, they're going to love you. And if they don't, it's because something is chronically, incredibly wrong with their sense of judgment."
"And not with me?"
"There is nothing wrong with you." He kissed her. "I would know. I've made enough dating mistakes to be sure."
He was so reassuring and confident. So incredible. She wanted this to go as perfectly as he pictured it. For his family to like her as much as her parents now adored Logan.
"Wait here a moment." She pulled the sweater from the bag and grabbed the box from the table, disappearing towards the restroom.
"Danni —" Logan called after her, evidently puzzled. She heard the sound of his chair pushing back from the table so he could follow her, but she didn't turn around. "What are you doing?"
A moment later, she emerged from the women's restroom and stood in the hall outside. The ugly sweater was pulled over her blouse, its bulky, itchy fabric even less attractive on the human body. On her nose, the plastic neon bulb turned to its 'flashing' mode.
"How do I look?" She planted her hands on her hips, assuming a classical fashion model pose. Logan
hid a smile behind one hand. Behind him, a couple of customers were staring at her from the sofa, one of them snickering.
"You look amazing," he answered. "But you don't have to do this right now. Go take it off."
"No," she said. "I wanted to see what the whole outfit looked like. I wanted to be sure it was suitably hideous." She pulled off the Rudolph nose, switching off its light.
"I still stick with amazing," he answered. He was about two seconds away from kissing her, she could tell. With or without the blinking Rudolph nose.
"I think I'm ready for this," she said. Her smile wasn't a joking one, but a serious one. "Ready to find out what the rest of your world is like."
"It's okay to be nervous," he said. "Deep inside, I'm a little afraid, too. Not that they won't love you. That they'll love you too much, and I won't be able to hang on to you. They'll be disappointed in me forever."
He was cute when he worried about stuff that silly. She smiled. "Give me a second, okay?" She ducked back inside the restroom. A few minutes later, she poked her head out. "Logan?" she said. "Come here, please. I need your help."
He hesitated, then stepped closer. "What's wrong?"
"It's caught on my blouse buttons," she said, emerging more fully in the doorway. "Can you help —?" She hoisted the sweater higher, revealing the green shag yarn caught in multiple places. Snarled around as many as possible, as if lassoed around them.
"Hold still," he said, gently untangling it. "Sheesh, this thing has tentacles everywhere. The grandmother who knitted it must've been trying to plaster it on her grandson for good."
"She knew he couldn't wait to get out of it." Danni's giggle was muffled by the sweater's layers.
"One more and you're free," Logan said. "Never put this thing on again unless we're at an ugly sweater contest party, okay? I think these things are cursed otherwise."
"Just don't take any photos of me in this ensemble until the party," she said.
"Promise," he answered. As he slipped the sweater over her head, then kissed her lips. "Just the photo beneath the mistletoe."
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