Table for Two

by Briggs, Laura

  Those were the kinds of words she would write if she journaled — but the thought of keeping a journal sent a sharp pain through her every time it crossed her mind, because it brought with it a little piece of Logan's past.

  "Merci," she said, as the cafe's waiter set her cup of coffee on her table. No chair across from her — just a view of a couple chatting over their midmorning coffee.

  'Merci,' and 'Bonjour' were the only words she could say with confidence in French thus far, along with a handful of scattered, less certain phrases. She could order coffee and a ham sandwich, and beyond that she was still clueless, even though she was trying.

  Her laptop was open, even though this was her work break. Onscreen, Rob was wrestling with his feelings for Ginny as he sat alone in his house. Surrounded by his packing boxes, by the last of Laney's things.

  He told himself these things wouldn't be different, once he was settled someplace new; but they already were. Simply moving them from the places where she had kept them, where she had loved them best, had changed them.

  He knew those places well. The cubby where her sewing things sat, the old cookie tin and pinking shears. The drawer where she kept postcards from friends. The brooch she left lying on a shelf three years ago, never to be moved again by her hand as it sat next to a framed photograph of her parents.

  He knew them the way one memorizes landmarks or street signs. It wasn't out of love, he knew. It was familiarity, and comfort. Not the same as the way he remembered how light reflected off Ginny's hair just before sunset at the lake. Or how she left her blue sweater lying across the umbrella stand to dry after the rain.

  Danni stopped typing. She was trying hard to imagine the lines about Rob's tender devotion to Laney, but she couldn't do it. And all the lines about Rob's love for Ginny seemed too painful today.

  She sighed. Closing her eyes, she closed the laptop's lid for a moment, taking a deep breath to clear her thoughts. Her mind never seemed organized and focused these days, because thoughts and memories were crowding it as quickly as she tried to escape them.

  It had been more than a month since she had last spoken to Logan. She tried to tell herself this was for the best. They both needed some time, especially Logan. Her love might not be reason enough for him to wait in the end. They both knew it, and wishing it wasn't the case changed nothing.

  At least once a day she stopped herself from texting him, or emailing him. The first week or so, she had been disappointed that he hadn't called, but she couldn't bring herself to call him instead. She had been the one who turned down his offer. She was the one who said they could untie the strings between them before it was permanent, if that was necessary. After saying those things, she couldn't be the voice on the phone, desperate to hear his own in return.

  He deserved better. He deserved to be free, if it would give him a chance to find love with someone who had no doubts or reservations. Maybe that love would be better and deeper and more passionate — but at this point, the idea always grew too painful for Danni to bear any longer.

  All this pain will form a scar. Scars mean you've healed, at least a little. She thought this would be consolation, but it wasn't. Not after weeks or months of loneliness and longing.

  To fill her time in the evenings, she tried different restaurants and cafes. She made a friend, another writer, named Sophie, who took her shopping and tried to persuade her to date an attractive friend of hers named Philippe.

  Laughing, Danni had turned the offer down. But she was only laughing on the outside for now. Inside, Sophie's words had touched the cracks left by Logan's absence.

  "Why not go on one date, at least?" coaxed Sophie, over coffee.

  "I ..." Danni had hestitated. "...have a boyfriend. Sort of." She wasn't sure what her status was with Logan now. Were they taking a breather? Breaking up? They hadn't put it into words before she left, not in the strained silences they endured in each other's presence.

  It had felt more like breaking up, given the silence between them. But Danni desperately wished she was wrong about this, even though it felt selfish to want it.

  "Ah," said Sophie. "Is it serious?"

  "To me it is," she answered. And to him. To Logan, it had been very serious before she told him she would let him go free. And now — ?

  "Do you see yourself with him for good?" asked Sophie. "Or is it only a good love affair?"

  "I see ..." She grew silent. I see him as a part of my life from now on. I see him as a fact I can't change about myself, even if I try. And yet we're so different, I'm afraid of what that means for both of us.

  "I see him as someone incredibly special," she answered, at last. Lamely. "He's like no one else I've ever known. I don't think I could forget about him, even though he's thousands of miles away." She took a long sip of coffee, and tried to look as if these words weren't costing her everything to say.

  "So he's an unforgettable love," concluded Sophia.

  "Absolutely," said Danni, with a smile.

  She knew if she closed her eyes for a moment, she would feel the passion of Logan's kiss again. She would feel his hand in hers, and relive all the little moments of laughing with him, arguing with him, and seeing the love in his eyes whenever she had amazed him in their relationship.

  What she wouldn't give for that glance now. Anything to erase the hurt in his eyes the last time she saw him, the night before she left for Europe. She hadn't even let him drive her to the airport, but told him Gabby had insisted on doing it. She couldn't face a last goodbye in that airport, not after the previous one that ended with such a hesitant, sad kiss.

  Call him. That was the message in her brain when she opened her eyes at the table that spring morning. Her laptop closed before her, her cup of coffee cooling beside it. The laughing couple one table away. Call him and tell him how sorry you are for all this.

  I can't. She shook her head. A part of her wondered what would even happen if she called his number and spoke to him. If she told him she couldn't stop thinking about him, would it make a difference? To him? To her?

  If he was waiting for her when she came back ... but she tried not to feel this much hope. To see him there, maybe at the airport, telling her that no matter how long it took for her to be ready, he was there. It was the exact thing she told him not to do, unless he meant it. And she was more than certain that Logan didn't mean it; otherwise, he wouldn't have bought her a ring on their first real anniversary.

  Besides, he didn't know when she was coming back. They hadn't communicated for weeks. Her friends probably weren't talking to him, assuming they were broken up now — given Danni's silence about it on her social media page, anyway.

  What were you waiting for, Danni? For certainty? For Paris, and your novel, and all the adventures you thought you'd never have once you settle on someone? Are you waiting for a magic moment that doesn't happen in a coffee shop on a busy weekday morning?

  She had been waiting for love, and it had finally arrived. So what if the timing wasn't perfect? Life's timing was always off. She had missed her chance just because the thought of changing everything in a single year was frightening. But she had never realized how frightening it would be to lose Logan instead.

  She opened the lid to her computer. Instead of her desktop and her Skype option appearing, her novel was waiting for her once more, open to Rob's lonely dilemma. And deep inside, Danni knew that was the only dilemma left for her to answer.

  If Logan was waiting at the airport, she would throw her arms around him. She would hold him so tightly she could never lose him again. But that was just a fantasy, because she knew the chances were a million to one that Logan would magically show up that day. And what the days afterwards would be like was something Danni wasn't ready to picture.

  Comfort Zone

  May

  Things had changed since she had been gone. Pauline's had repainted the lounge area, and put up an old-fashioned wallpaper border, its French font reminding Danni of cheesy Paris souvenirs. The
retail display of coffee samples was gone, replaced by a shelf full of collectible coffee mugs.

  The place was still crowded. The corner table by the window was still a favorite for couples who visited the shop, and the menu's special was a familiar strawberry apple frappaccino, one of Danni's favorites.

  Only one vital thing was missing. Logan wasn't here.

  She sat alone at the table with her coffee for the third time since she came home from Paris. She came here on Saturday morning to find two strangers at their table. On Monday, she had come twice, at breakfast and at lunch, glancing eagerly around the place for the sight of him. Each time, she'd been disappointed.

  I should have called him. I should have written him emails, even if he never wrote back. Every day, she felt regret for not doing it. When Logan had failed to contact her, she shouldn't have let that be the end, no matter what her words had been on letting go.

  She should have fought to keep his love. Never giving up, from the moment they first had differences on the future. Instead, she had been scared of hurting herself by failing. She let her silence be the answer to his proposal; now, she was letting his silence be her answer to her last hopes.

  All she could hope for now was running into him by accident. It hadn't even occurred to her until she returned that he might not come to Pauline's anymore. Maybe he found someplace new to have coffee and lunch. Pauline's had become their place, and if he was moving on, he didn't need its memories to hold him back.

  "Will that be all for you?" asked Tiffany, smiling brightly. "We have a nice apple bran muffin today."

  "I think I'll just stick to coffee," Danni answered. She cupped her hands around it as she sat across from an empty chair.

  She knew Logan wasn't seeing anyone else yet. At least not publicly. That is, she had known it was true a couple of weeks ago. She had made herself give up reading his social media page, because she felt herself yearning for the next post, and the familiar sight of his profile picture. She felt like she was stalking him, cheating by keeping tabs on him after they mutually parted — a twisted version of the old joke they once shared.

  Once or twice, she had hinted around with friends for news of him. Gabby refused to tell her anything, much less mention Logan's name, as if it were too painful for Danni to hear. Mandi had only said she had heard that Logan was on track for a promotion at work — that, or another transfer.

  Which one? Danni had wanted to ask. Is he taking it? Will he still be there when I come back? She was practically begging for answers inside, although she merely told Mandi that she wished him luck. How is he? Is he happy? Or is he hurting as much as I am?

  He didn't deserve to still be hurting. All he had done was offer to make her happy for the rest of their lives, and if she'd been brave enough, she would have let him. Then neither of them would have been lonely again.

  I just want to see him again. She closed her eyes once more. Just for a moment. Then I can let him go if I have to, she promised herself. As if I ever could.

  This last part would never be easy. In fact, she wasn't even sure it was possible, so there was no way of keeping this promise.

  She took a sip from her cup. Her phone rang, startling her back to the present. On the screen, she saw Margaret's number. "Hello?" she answered.

  "I'm a quarter of the way through your manuscript, Danni, and I must say, it's exquisite," said Margaret. "I'm not saying the story structure isn't still a little rough, or that there's not room for improvement ... but your voice on the page is captivating."

  "Thank you," said Danni, blushing. "I'm so glad you like it."

  "I'm not saying 'bestseller' of course, because we both know how hard it is to sell high-concept romance," her editor continued, "but I think this will fare extremely well with book critics. And maybe ... if we're lucky ... we can get Sellars to give us a nice introduction."

  She caught her breath. "Really?" she said. She couldn't believe it.

  "No promises. I'll talk to her agent and see if she's open to reading the manuscript. And giving a fair and honest critique at the finish."

  "Wow, I ... I don't know what to say."

  "This is a long road, Danielle. Don't quit your day job anytime soon. But I think there's a good chance in the future that you might have a name in this industry. Big or small, but definitely part of it."

  "Again, thank you so much," said Danni.

  "My pleasure. Now, get to work editing the next Harwell manuscript as quick as you can, all right? We've missed you around here."

  "I'll start first thing tomorrow," Danni promised. She hung up afterwards.

  For a brief second, she felt excitement at the thought of telling Logan, then felt it die away with sadness as quickly as it came. Logan would probably never know, not unless he was spying on her social media, too. He might not even care now, given that it had been months since they had seen or spoken to each other.

  She twisted the empty space on her finger where Logan's ring ought to be. She wondered if he had sold it. Taken it back to the shop and spent the money on something else.

  The door opened. She turned around, craning to see the next customer. But it was only two teenage boys carrying skateboards. Disappointed, she turned away.

  Maybe Logan had taken a transfer after all, and simply hadn't updated his social media page to say so. He might be packing his things and preparing to leave any day now. He might be too busy to have coffee at the place where the love of his life broke his heart.

  Two tables away, a couple was playing with the Scrabble board, both laughing tenderly over a word one of them spelled out across its squares. Danni looked away, facing the empty table dead ahead, and the empty chair across from her, as she made herself finish her cup of coffee.

  Table Talk

  The new Harwell novel was a romantic comedy, all about a couple brought together by a lost dog. It was different from the author's last novel, but showed a lot of promise, Danni thought.

  She marked her thoughts in the margins of her printed pages, especially on the chapter where the couple is reunited when the dog runs away from its new home. She glanced over her copy of Harwell's last novel, where she highlighted passages and story techniques that resonated with readers.

  She laid it aside and glanced towards the window, where sun streamed across the former Scrabble lovers' table. A girl sat alone at it, deeply absorbed in her novel. One of Danni's publisher's best authors. She recognized its cover right away.

  The cafe door opened, and a man entered. From the corner of her eye, Danni caught a glimpse of brown hair, a blue shirt. Without seeing anything more, her heart began to beat faster. A mixture of fear and dread inside her.

  "One latte, please." Behind the counter, Kimberly punched in the register code.

  "Number five," she said. She placed a cup under the coffee spout and pulled the handle, then placed Logan's order on the counter. As he turned away, he saw Danni. She saw his expression change from a casual one to a guarded one.

  They stared at each other for a moment. She saw Logan hesitate. He was going to leave, she knew.

  She rose from her seat. "Logan," she said. She paused. "Hi."

  "Hi." She got the feeling that word was difficult for him to say. "I didn't know you were back."

  "Three weeks," she said.

  "Oh."

  She pushed the chair across from her out, nudging it gently towards him. "Would you like to —"

  "I should —" he began.

  " — only if you're comfortable," she added, quickly. "I mean, if you have some place to be, I understand."

  He stood there a moment longer. "I have a minute. I'll stay." He finished drawing out the chair and sat down across from her. Placing his coffee cup across from hers as Danni sank into her chair again.

  "So," he said. "How was Paris?"

  He met her eyes, briefly, then shifted his gaze again. That brief look was enough for her to see there was still something wounded beneath his casual look. Something a little bitter, m
aybe. It cut Danni deeply, although she did her best to hide it in the same manner he concealed his own.

  "It was great," she said. "I finished the book. Margaret's reading it now."

  "Are you happy with it?" he asked.

  She nodded. "I am," she said. "It's ... it's what I wanted it to be. Just like you said would happen if I concentrated on it."

  They were both silent. Logan studied his coffee. Danni gazed at the cover of her book.

  "How are you?" she asked. "How are things here?" While I was gone, she wanted to add, but didn't. She kept silent with the questions that wanted to tumble from her lips. Is your heart still broken? Is it ready for someone else to fill it? Is there still a chance ...?

  "I'm fine," he said. "Things are fine."

  "I heard that you were ... were moving," she ventured. Her heart pounded as she waited to hear the words that he was leaving for someplace new. It was his turn to fly off and leave their old life behind, wasn't it? His turn to say that she was free, and that there was no reason to wait for something that might never happen between them.

  "I thought about it," he said. "But I decided I'd rather stay. So they're giving me a permanent position in the city."

  "Oh. Wow. That's great." She felt relieved, even though it shouldn't matter, really. It wasn't as if they were seeing each other. Or even friends. Possibly friends, with practice. But as for anything more, that chance was probably long gone by now, leaving a hollow place inside her.

  "So things are ... okay?" she ventured, tentatively.

  He nodded. "I'm not angry, if that's what you're asking," he said. "Not at you, Danni. Not at France or anything."

  She bit her lip as she listened. "I meant you personally," she said. "I want to know if you're okay." She looked at him, meeting his eyes intently. She didn't want to look away, not before she saw proof that he was all right.