"As if I'd let our second Valentine's together go to waste," he said. "Besides, I know you love daisies."
"I do love them," she answered. "And I love you. It's a good combination." She laid them aside, her fingers stroking the petals.
"Good book?" he asked. "That's not the one about the lighthouse keeper in love with the deaf woman, is it?" Its cover, lots of sunset shades and a waterscape, looked familiar to him.
"No. It's the sequel," she answered. "He has a rival in this one."
"Really? That seems unfair," commented Logan. "He goes through all that heartache just to have another guy step in and try to cut him out?"
Kimberly placed his coffee cup on the table. "One espresso to go," she said. "Anything else?"
"Thanks, I'm good," he answered. He took a sip from his coffee as Danni played with the frayed end of her bookmark ribbon. "So does the lighthouse keeper win?"
"I haven't gotten to the end yet." She closed her book. "I think it's probably a cliffhanger."
He studied the design on his coffee cup, a new logo for Pauline's. "I was thinking about tonight," he said. "I know you were planning to cook dinner at your place, but I was hoping maybe we could put it off for one night, if that's okay. If I could take you somewhere tonight."
"Logan —"
"I know, and if you can't change your plans for tonight, it's fine. I just had a chance to make a reservation at the new French place across town —"
"Logan, I showed my manuscript to Margaret," she said. She glanced at him.
"You did?" He was speechless for a moment. "What — what did she say? Did she read it?"
Danielle nodded. "She did," she answered. "And she said it's really promising. She was impressed. Even though I technically haven't fixed all the problems with Rob and Ginny's part of the story."
"No, but it's good, Danni. It's great. And this is great news," he said. "Now they know how talented you are, and they're giving you a chance. Will Margaret read it again when it's finished? For publication, maybe?"
"She said so." Danni smiled. "They'll consider it, if the book's good enough." She laid her hand on Logan's. "Thanks for believing in me, by the way. Even in my horrible first draft —" She bit her lip and looked away. "You were always honest and supportive."
Tears of happiness, Logan thought. Danni had waited for this moment for years. She had invested so much of herself in those characters and that story, and felt so much frustration and passion for it with every stage. Now she could be proud of that struggle.
"Let me take you to celebrate tonight," he said. "Please. We'll have dinner at your place tomorrow. I'll help you dice shrimp for the sauce and everything. Two perfect evenings instead of one."
He squeezed her hand, catching her eye as he tried to persuade her to give in. He couldn't contain his smile, one of pride and happiness. Happier than Danni's actually, which seemed strange to him.
"Margaret thinks I need a year to have the book ready for an editor," Danni said. "She actually pulled some strings and got me a grant for three months from a writer's foundation, so I can take time off and finish it. Expenses and writing location both provided."
He laughed. "That's amazing," he said. "You must be —"
"The location is in France, Logan," she said. "It's in Paris."
Logan was speechless. Danni's lips were twitching, not with a laugh, but with hesitation, as if her smile was flickering and dying. She dropped her eyes below.
"I see," he answered, softly. "Well ... that's great." His voice was hollow.
"It's an amazing opportunity," she said. "I'm so grateful to her. Not everybody gets a chance like this, much less an amateur writer with a rough draft."
They were both quiet. Logan could hear his own heartbeat. His mind was racing, towards a future with Danielle an ocean apart from him. For months, for longer, maybe.
"You're taking it, of course," he said.
"I want to." Her words were carefully chosen. "But I ... I feel like if I do, I'll lose something else." She lifted her eyes to look at him. He could see that her tears of happiness were sad ones, too. Sad because she knew what he was thinking.
Here was the moment where he could point out that they had survived his transfer for five months. They had been fine. That, of course, was before their feelings became complicated.
"Three months is a long time," he ventured, quietly. "But we've faced longer." There was no timeline, he wanted to remind her, no starting point for their future. But he dreaded the next part of this truth. There might not even be a future for us, for all we know at this point.
"You don't want to wait, Logan," she said. "You never wanted to. I made you agree because I wasn't ready ... and I ... I couldn't picture taking that leap .…"
Not now. Don't do this now, Danni. He wanted to tell her to stop, but he couldn't. "I was willing to wait," he answered. "I was willing to give things another chance."
Her voice was soft. "For how long?" she asked. "Until this is over? Longer?"
That stopped him. He didn't know. For a year? For three or four years? He knew that Danni had no idea what she was waiting for. He knew that he couldn't wait in one place in their relationship forever. He needed to move forward, to deepen that commitment and not look back. And if that moment might never come, he couldn't stay.
No answer came. His lips were without words. Powerless to say the lines that would either hold them together or pull them apart. The distance between them was already wide; the cracks between them already enough to shatter their bond beneath pressure.
He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. He heard it rattle in his throat. "When do you leave?"
"Two weeks," she answered.
Two weeks. That was so little time to figure things out. It would race by while Danni packed and closed up her apartment, and spent her afternoons saying goodbye to her friends, a weekend with her family before taking off for Paris.
He would be there, of course. Watching her say goodbye, saying supportive things, driving her to the airport to wave goodbye. That's how it worked in relationships. But, somehow, he didn't see a moment in which he and Danni told each other what was really on their minds. That would stay buried deep, just as it had all these weeks since New Year's. They didn't have words for these feelings, for everything that was right and wrong between them.
"I want you to think about what I said." Danni's hand closed over his. Both of her hands held his fingers tightly now. "Think about what you want, Logan. I can't hurt you again, I can't." Her voice broke, and she looked away for a moment. "I won't make you wait if you don't want to. I only want you to be happy."
As happy as you are now? he wanted to ask. Or as happy as you'll be when you've rebuilt your life without me? His brain leaped to this conclusion without him intending to go there, with a quick pulse of anger that vanished a second later. Disappointment was stronger than any other feeling right now, along with a crushing sense of loss for everything that had gone wrong between them.
It was strange he could think of it without being angry. Without being bitter. Maybe that was coming later, when one of them would finally say the words that ended things between them. Because the lump rising in his throat seemed proof that it wouldn't be long in coming.
"What about you?" he asked, when he felt in control of his voice again. "Do you want to hold on?" It was a question important to him right now. The answer to everything, maybe.
She shook her head. "That's not important," she said, dismissively. The catch hadn't quite left her voice yet.
"To me it is."
"I can't ask you to do this, Logan," she said. "Not unless that's what you completely want. It isn't fair, and I won't do it." The stubborn tone he knew well from Danni's voice had come back. She was fighting her tears, struggling for her composure. In response, even with his own pain, Logan softened.
"Couples agree to disagree," he reminded her. "If neither of us is happy, Danni, then something is wrong. Something we need to fix."
&nb
sp; He watched as a tear rolled down her cheek. "Sometimes it's too late to fix a mistake," she answered. "You miss the moment, and nothing will ever be the same. You have to keep going and hope it doesn't matter in the end, or you have to quit."
"Are you talking about us?" He could feel the shock building in his chest now.
She shook her head. "I don't know," she said. "I don't have an answer. Not for any of your questions. That scares me. And I know it hurts you."
She pushed her chair back and rose. "I'm so sorry, Logan." She laid her lips against his cheek, kissing him. It burned, as if Danni's skin was feverish. "I'm so sorry."
He struggled with the feelings trapped inside him. He wanted to tell her not to do this, not to go — not to France, but away from here, because she was leaving him by walking out. It was hurting her to do it as much as him. That he was certain about, even though he couldn't deny the truth of her words.
Nothing has been the same since those doubts came between us. And if things can't become better than ever somehow, then it's only going to become worse for us.
Two weeks — they could fix things in time, couldn't they? There had to be another way than this, than taking a breather that might mean goodbye. He told himself this, trying to rally his strength even as he felt hopeless in the face of it all.
"I should go." She drew back from him and walked away. "I'll see you later. We'll talk. I promise." Her voice broke at this point, and she turned to go.
He heard Danni's heels click against the coffee shop's tile floor, and the sound of the door's chime as she exited. Her book was gone, but the flowers he had brought her still lay on the table. He could see that she had taken a single daisy from the bouquet.
Logan closed his eyes. He buried his face in his hands.
Table for One
March
"Would you like to try our spring Malted Macchiato?" asked Kimberly. "Limited time only."
"No, thanks," said Logan. "Just plain coffee's fine." He turned off his music player, leaving the ear buds lying on the table, next to his open journal. Its page was mostly blank, except where Logan had written a single line about meeting Eric to hang out.
It was almost like the beginning of his time in this place. He had turned back the clock somehow to find himself once again single in this city, a year into a new job, and sitting alone in a coffee shop on a Saturday morning, with nothing to do but write down his thoughts. Almost like he had never met Danielle, and experienced a year and a half of happiness as her friend and then as her possible soul mate.
Forget human resources' advice. Journaling was getting him nowhere. He closed it, feeling a lack of interest for documenting the spring morning's weather, and his latest jog in the park.
"Hey, buddy." Eric clapped him on the shoulder. "Are you having pastries? 'Cause I'm having pastries." He pulled out the empty chair at the table and sat down.
"What are you doing here?" Logan asked, surprised.
"I knew you'd probably be moping on this fine Saturday morning, so I thought I'd track you down and meet up early," said Eric. "We'll go back to your place, you can shower and grab some clothes, and we'll meet Marshall at Buffalo Grill to catch the game and eat. What do you say?"
"You've got the whole day planned out," said Logan. "No input from me necessary?"
"What — are you suddenly not a sports fan? Sick of buffalo wings?" said Eric. "Look, if it were up to you, we'd end up back at my place again, eating microwave popcorn and trying hard not to talk about your ex. I know this, so we're going out today."
Logan refrained from rolling his eyes. He wanted to deny that he was thinking about Danni that often, but he knew it was true. He still thought about her all the time, so it seemed like every other minute of his life involved her somehow.
It had been a month and he hadn't heard from her. Not that he expected to. Those last two weeks they had unraveled so quickly there hadn't been time to stop it. Halfhearted promises to text, to email, to call ... dinners that were silence and not conversation. The two of them avoiding each others' glance because it was too painful to look at each other for more than a second or two.
He knew she meant what she said about their relationship being unfair to him. He knew she was right about him not wanting to wait any longer. And since she told him she wouldn't hold him to his promises when she left, he concluded that Danni's answer would never have been 'yes' in the end.
He wanted it to be. He would have given anything to hear that word from her. That's what hurt so much in all this, more than the distance and the bitterness and the regret.
"Earth to Logan." Eric shook his shoulder. "Come back to earth."
"Sorry," said Logan. "I drifted for a moment there. I've got that sales presentation on Monday. This quarter's sales are down unless we make it." He slid his journal into his bag, and offered Kimberly a smile as she set his coffee cup on the table.
"Yeah. Right. I'm sure you were thinking about software sales just then." Eric rolled his eyes. "Hey, I'll have two bear claws and one of those chocolate chip muffins, okay?"
"You got it." Kimberly made a note on her pad.
Logan waited until she was gone to say anything else. "I wish you wouldn't bring up Danni like that," he said. "You don't have to mention her every minute."
"You're thinking of her every minute," countered Eric. "It's time you let go. She's been gone a month. She's not coming back to you. Time to move on and look for greener pastures." He took a sip from Logan's coffee, then handed it back.
"I don't think so," Logan answered, evasively.
"Do you know how many women would love to date you?" Eric asked. "Do you know how many women I know who have asked about you?"
"No. And I don't want to know, thanks."
"The closer a man is to commitment before things fall apart, the more desirable he is to the opposite sex. It's a fact," said Eric. "Every female within our social sphere knows you were ready to go on bended knee for your girlfriend before she flew off to Paris. That attracts them in a major way."
Eric didn't know that he'd proposed once, of course. Logan had managed not to let that event slip. He kept the ring stashed well out of sight in a fire safe in his bedroom closet, where he kept financial documents and his passport.
"Women keep asking 'oh, how's Logan? Is he okay?' And 'so, is Logan seeing anybody now that he's single? I felt sooo bad his relationship ended.' Like they actually mean it, of course."
"You know, I think we should go now," said Logan. "I have to shower, and you need to call Marshall and have him grab a table. Call Rob, too."
"Here's your pastries." Kimberly set the plate on the table. "Anything else?"
"A 'to go' bag for those would be nice," said Logan.
"We can't go yet. I haven't eaten," protested Eric. "Ignore him, we're fine, thanks," he added to Kimberly, who retreated once again.
He took a generous bite from the first bear claw. "You took that whole relationship too seriously, man," he said. "She was way out of your league."
"Let me guess. Her passion versus my practical ways."
"No. She was hot. And not that you're not hot, but she was fun, blond, and really outgoing. She was gonna end up with a guy who drove a flashy car and had parties at his weekend place on the lake, probably."
"I feel so much better. You should have been there with these words the first two weeks, when I was really struggling," said Logan, sarcastically.
"Okay, how about this? She clearly wasn't worth it since she dumped a great guy to go to some kind of writer's seminar in France. She left you for Paris, my friend."
"She didn't dump me," said Logan. "She didn't choose France over me. It was a mutual parting. We were at different places in our relationship, and we didn't know if we'd ever be in the same place."
He stared at his coffee, trying hard not to imagine Danni across from him instead of Eric. To remember the flowers lying beside her book, and the mixture of happiness and regret on her face as she told him the news.
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"Look," said Eric. He swallowed a mouthful of pastry. "I know I'm rough on you, but I'm trying to help. Really. I don't want to watch you waste your life. You're a good friend, and I want you to move on. For you. And for me."
Logan smiled, faintly. "I know," he said. "I just need a little more time. I'll be ready eventually, I promise."
"You loved girls before. Remember Rachel."
"Not like this," said Logan. "Not to the point I couldn't picture a future without her. I saw a whole life with Danni ... that's not easy to erase. It just leaves a big ... blank."
"Humiliation burns." Eric squeezed his shoulder. "Like telling your family that you’re single again."
Logan groaned. "You had to bring up that memory, didn't you?"
"You want to erase it? Then let's get you back out in the world," said Eric. "I'll bet there's some hot ladies at Buffalo Grill who wouldn't say 'no' to a complimentary plate of wings." He gave Logan a little shake. "What's say we go?"
"You still have one pastry left on your plate," said Logan.
He had no interest in flirting with anyone, or asking anyone out right now, but it was useless to tell Eric. Maybe in a few more weeks, it would feel different. He knew he needed to move on before Danni came back, so she wouldn't see him like this.
If she came back. Maybe Danni's new life would take her somewhere else, to a new city and new choices. Maybe the last threads of hope he still clung to deep inside were pointless.
Eric lifted the bear claw from the plate and stuffed it in his mouth, devouring it in two bites. "Let's go," he said, through his mouthful, as he rose from the table.
"That's disgusting," said Logan. Not that Eric was listening.
He pulled a tip from his pocket and laid it beside the empty plate. With one last glance at the empty chair across from him, Danni's old place, he grabbed his bag and walked away.
Cafe au Lait
April
Paris in the springtime. It was every writer's dream, as Danielle knew from reading countless books and writers' blogs. The air was different, the scenery a busy, sleek, cosmopolitan world which held pockets of beauty — flowers in a cafe's ornate urns and hanging baskets, vines tangled over a gateway's arch or a window's planter.
Table for Two Page 14
