by J. L. Berg
Our host came in carrying yet another covered silver dish and set it down on the large table.
“Ms. Thompson, do you know if we are supposed to get a storm?” Clare asked, still looking out the window, but her gaze had shifted upwards toward the sky.
I joined her at the window, looking up and noticed the sky was turning black.
“I believe the weatherman said there was a slight possibility of a thunderstorm, but its only late April, so I wouldn’t worry,” she replied as she set up the table for our meal.
Clare nodded her head in agreement but took one last look up at the clouds again. They did look ominous. And if there was one thing I had learned in the short years I’d lived here, Virginia weather was unpredictable.
I rested my hand on her waist, pulling her to my chest, loving the feel of her there against my body.
“Let’s eat. If a storm comes we can always drive home after it passes,” I reassured her.
Letting out a breath, she nodded. Her smile and the light mood from earlier returned.
“You’re right, I’m sure I’m worrying for nothing.”
Ms. Thompson finished up and made herself scarce. We seated ourselves at the table, looking at all the prepared food. The table was covered, with barely an inch of wood showing due to the massive amounts dishes and platters covering the surface.
“Did she know it would be just the two of us?” Clare asked, her eyes surveying the table.
I laughed, “Yes, but I don’t think she remembers how to cook for two people anymore. Plus I think she might have a crush on me.”
“Oh, she definitely does. I caught her giving you a once over on the porch when we arrived, and I saw her checking out your ass when we went upstairs a bit ago,” Clare quipped, completely amused.
“That’s one randy old lady, I’ll give her that,” I added, not exactly sure how I feel about a Grandma checking out my ass.
“Well, at least she has good taste...but if she gets handsy, I may have to bitch slap her.”
“Defending my honor, huh? That’s kinda hot. Well, minus the Granny part,” I added.
She gave me one last amused look before we began our meal. Ms. Thompson might be one of the best cooks I’d ever encountered. She had taken southern cooking to a whole new level, creating modern dishes with a down home feel. No wonder her Bed and Breakfast is one of the best in the country.
I heard Clare moan as she took her first bite of the pork loin smothered in a cranberry and peach chutney.
“Oh my God, we’re taking this woman back with us. Go find a bat. I’ll get the duct tape,” Clare declared, taking another bite.
I laughed. It really was good.
We dined on pork loin and ratatouille, roasted sweet potatoes and asparagus, and baskets of bread. It was divine.
Around our second glass of wine, the rain started. One thing I loved about Virginia was the rain. It could be sunny one minute, and pouring the next.
Right now the rain was coming down in sheets, beating against the roof and rattling the windows. The sun had long since passed and the deafening sound combined with the darkness outside made it feel like we are the only two people in the world.
“Tell me about your wife,” Clare requested, completely catching me off guard.
“Of all the things we can discuss on our first date, you want to talk about my ex-wife?”
“She was a part of your life and a part of you. I want to know everything about you.” She paused and gently reached her hand across the table for mine. Our fingers touched and became entwined together.
“I’m sorry. You don’t have to if you’re not ready.”
“No, Clare. It’s not that. It’s painful, yes. But not in the way you’re thinking. I’m worried that after I tell you about her, you’ll look at me differently.”
Like the cold-hearted bastard I am.
“Whatever it is, you can tell me. No bullshit, remember?” she reminded me, giving me an encouraging smile.
“What do you want to know?” I sighed, not wanting to have this conversation but knowing she needed to know me, even the ugly sides of me, if we were going to continue.
“Everything. Anything? Whatever you want to tell me.”
I want to tell her nothing, because I’m a coward, but I knew I couldn’t do that. So I decided to start at the beginning.
“I met Melanie when I was in med school. She was attending Harvard for her undergraduate work in economics and psychology. She was beautiful and cultured. She came from a wealthy family, but she wasn’t the least bit pretentious, and she had all these lofty notions that she was going to change the world. She wanted to visit third-world countries and would spend hours telling me about her dreams and aspirations. For a young man who had been told what to do for his entire life, she was fascinating. I asked her to marry me as soon as she graduated.”
I paused, not wanting to continue, afraid she would hate me for what I was about to say.
“My life was crazy during med school but it became insane during my residency. Being newly married and a newly practicing doctor was like mixing oil and vinegar. I was never home, and I quickly realized I didn’t want to be. When I was home for long periods of time I just mentally checked out. And she knew it. I didn’t love her, and I never had. I confused fascination for love, not knowing the difference. I think I was so enthralled by the idea of being loved that I took something I shouldn’t have, without thought for the consequences. Melanie had loved me from day one, and I couldn't give her a damn thing in return. What’s worse is I kept her, hoping I’d someday start to feel something, anything. But all I ever felt was guilt.”
Unable to look at Clare, I stared out the window while I made my confession. I watched the rain slam against the window, unable to look her in the eyes because I was so afraid her face would be filled with disgust. Would she leave now that she knew I was incapable of loving someone? I finally looked at her and found her looking at me with something entirely unexpected.
Compassion.
“Is it so horrible to want to be loved, Logan?” she asked.
“No. But chaining someone into a marriage just to have it? That’s unforgivable,” I insisted.
“When you married Melanie and said your vows, did you believe you were in love with her?”
“Yes,” I said without hesitation.
“You can’t blame yourself for this, Logan. Wanting to be loved so desperately is not a crime,” she assured me, holding my hand firmly in hers. Her hand felt so soft and delicate in my own.
“Is that why she cheated?”
I nodded, adding “I don’t blame her. I kept her in a loveless marriage, and I was never there.”
“Did you know him?” she inquired.
Clearly, she still hadn’t looked me up because this particular part was a media favorite.
“Yes. He was one of my best friends, Gabe. He’d been at Harvard the same time as Melanie and me, studying law. He moved to New York to pursue his dream of working in the projects. We always used to give him shit for going to Harvard on his Daddy’s dime to earn a law degree he planned on using for pro bono work. But, he was exactly like Melanie. He wanted to change the world. She volunteered to help in his office doing light administrative work a few hours a week. I hardly paid attention when she told me,” I admitted.
I shifted in my seat, uncomfortably.
“How long before you found out?” she asked.
“Six months. My wife had been sleeping with one of my best friends for six months and I didn’t even notice,” I confessed. I had been so involved in my own thoughts, and my own world, I had actually stopped paying attention to her. So much so that she carried on a six month affair and I had no clue.
“I’m sorry Logan, it must have been painful.”
It was, but not for the reasons she was thinking.
“Looking back now, I can see it. Melanie and Gabe are perfect for each other. They’re running that law firm together now. She provides counseling an
d he gives legal support. Colin told me they’re expecting their first child this fall. And honestly, I’m happy for them, for her. She deserves it, all of it.”
“You deserve it too,” she said softly, tracing my palm with her fingers.
“Thank you.”
“So...I saw Ms. Thompson set up a ton of desserts in the other room. If we don’t go over there soon I’m going to get cranky, and I’m not nearly as cute when I’m cranky,” Clare announced, lightening the mood with her addiction to sweets.
I couldn’t help but laugh, thankful we were done with the heavy conversation for the moment. I was also relieved she was still looking at me the same way. I didn’t deserve it, but I’d still take her anyway.
“Okay, let’s go!” I exclaimed, rising to follow a quickly moving Clare to the parlor. She was already eyeing the massive display of desserts and squealing with delight.
“This woman is insane! There’s enough dessert here to feed an army!” she cried, zeroing in on the chocolate covered strawberries and profiteroles before noticing the best part.
“Oh my God, she made Tiramisu! Did you tell her to do this?” she asked before turning to look at me.
I just grinned in answer.
“Of course you did.” She sauntered over to me, swaying her hips, before reaching out a hand to grab mine.
“Thank you. This has been the perfect date. You’re amazing”
Just then, a huge clap of thunder shook the house, followed by a flash. Clare screamed, closing the distance between us to rush into my arms, just as the power went out.
Well, so much for perfection.
Chapter Eight
~Clare~
“What the hell was that?” I screeched as I burrowed my body further into Logan’s firm chest.
“Uh, thunder?” he uttered.
“Well, duh. But holy shit, that was close. It couldn’t have been more than a mile away.”
One thing I noticed right away...okay, two things. The first thing, Logan smelled really good.
Like really, really good. I don’t know if it was cologne or a scent that was just uniquely Logan but I wanted to bury my face in his shirt and take a deep breath so I could have a memory of it permanently stored in my olfactory senses.
The second thing. It was dark. Like pits of hell dark. Having lived in the South my entire life, I had learned to endure strong storms. But they still freak me out, which is why I was currently curled up like a five-year old child in a grown man’s arms. Well, it probably wasn’t the only reason. My only saving grace was the fact that when the power went out in a suburban neighborhood, it was never completely dark. You still had neighbors that ran backup generators and headlights from cars passing by.
But the Thompson Plantation Bed and Breakfast?
It was pitch-black, make-you-wanna-scream-for-your-Mama dark.
“Are you all right, Clare? You’re shaking,” Logan asked, his voice full of concern.
“Sorry. That scared the bejesus out of me. I don’t like when the power goes out,” I confessed.
“I’m actually really enjoying the lack of power,” he said, squeezing me tighter.
“Oh man!” I suddenly wailed.
“What?” his voice alarmed and full of sudden concern.
“The desserts! I can’t see the desserts! I want my desserts!” I whined.
He chuckled. “That took all of thirty seconds!”
“Don’t make fun of me, I’m in agony here. There’s sugar over there, and I can’t see it. If Ms. Thompson doesn’t come with a candle soon, I’m just gonna wing it and dive in with my hands.”
He thought I was kidding, but I was totally serious. I never mess around when it comes to dessert.
Just as I was contemplating exactly how to get into the dessert without ruining my dress, Ms. Thompson nosily bumped into the room with a candle in hand.
“Well, that was exciting, wasn’t it? You two okay? Didn’t scare you too bad, did it?” she asked as she began lighting candles scattered about the room.
“No, we’re fine. Just a little startled. We were just admiring the dessert table when the power went out. You did an amazing job,” Logan commended her, causing our host to become embarrassed under his praise. As she lit the candles, everything started to come back into view, including the desserts.
“Well then, continue on. Don’t mind me. I’m going to look for a radio and see if I can get any updates on the weather,” Ms. Thompson said before marching out the room with determination.
I scurried up to the table, grabbed a plate and started taking a bit of everything and a lot of the tiramisu. It was such a thoughtful gesture to have her include my favorite dessert. And the jelly beans during our picnic…
And now I was thinking about the picnic again. Every time I looked at him, I remembered the way his hands felt moving over my body and how his mouth moved against mine. I had no idea what came over me, but if he hadn’t yelled stop, I’m not sure I would have. The heat and chemistry between us had awoken a part of me I thought was gone. Something raw and real. I didn’t know where our path together would lead, but tonight I felt like anything was possible.
Logan fixed his much smaller dessert plate and we both took a seat on the comfortable sofa in the parlor. He poured two cups of coffee from the carafe Ms. Thompson left on the coffee table, and I snuggled into the feather pillows, angling my body toward Logan as I dove into my plate piled high with desserts. I moaned in delight as the sugar and chocolate melted in my mouth. I felt contented and happy.
“So, what do you think she’s going to do with all those leftover desserts?” I feigned innocence.
He laughed, “Don’t worry, she’s sending all of it home with us. I made sure of it.”
“Yes!” I shouted but then said, “Geez, how much did you pay this woman?”
He just rolled his eyes so I continued to eat.
“You have chocolate, right there,” Logan said, leaning forward and motioning to my mouth. His eyes zeroed in on my lips, full of heated intensity.
“Oh.”
I opened my mouth, reaching out with my tongue to catch it, but he beat me to it, licking the chocolate from my lip, before kissing me long and slow.
He eased back; his eyes alight with fire and grinned, looking very smug.
“I think I got it.”
“You know, I think I could have taken care of that myself,” I snickered.
“But my way was much more fun. And besides, Maddie told me I could kiss you, so I plan on doing so. A lot,” he assured me.
“She did?” I asked, surprised.
“Yes. When I got to the house today, she gave me her permission to kiss you. I politely said thank you, and then chased her around the room while she squealed. Good times,” he grinned.
“I really have no idea why she’s feels so safe around you.”
“Hey!” he cried, dejected.
“No,” I giggled, understanding how that could have been misunderstood.
“I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean I don’t understand why it was so instantaneous. You walked into that exam room and she trusted you immediately. She’s never treated another person that way,” I explained.
“I felt it, too. With her. With you, too,” he paused before saying, “I always feel that need to care for my patients, but when I leaned down in that hospital bed and she curled up in my arms as I examined her, I don’t know...something inside of me clicked. I’ve never felt so fiercely protective over a patient before. If that’s even one tenth of what you feel as a parent, I don’t know how you do it. I suddenly couldn’t imagine the thought of her in pain. And then I saw you. Even in those vomit soaked clothes, you had me on my knees. When I mentioned the CT and you panicked? I saw that fear in your eyes and all I wanted to do was make it go away.”
I’ve never told him why I panicked in that hospital room.
“Ethan,” I explained, “He kept getting these horrible headaches. His doctor ordered a CT first. It came back nor
mal. Months went by and we thought everything was fine. But he kept getting headaches and I got more and more nervous. But Ethan swore it was fine because of that CT. Finally, I convinced him to go see someone else. His new doctor ordered an MRI, and that’s when they found the tumor which hadn’t shown on the CT,” I said in a low voice, still hating myself for not pushing harder. If I had been more adamant, sent him to a doctor sooner, would he still be here?
But then I would have never met Logan.
Sometimes life didn’t make any sense and you just had to stop thinking.
“It’s very rare for a CT to be wrong. You know that by now I’m sure?”
I nodded.
Silence filled the air as we finished our coffee. It wasn’t an awkward silence that was so typical on a first date, but the silence of two people who were comfortable enough to know that sometimes words didn’t need to be said.
I finally took a glance up at him from my coffee cup, noticing his eyes looked more gray than blue in the low light. The room smelled of burning candles and shadows flickered along the walls as the flames danced. Logan’s hair had fallen into his eyes a bit, and I absently brushed it back, letting the inky black strand slip through my fingers.
“We seriously suck at dinner conversation, don’t we?” I said, still enjoying the feel of my hands in his hair.
“Yes, awful,” he agreed. “We should definitely make out instead,” he added playfully.
“Horndog,” I teased.
Ms. Thompson strolled back into the parlor, candle in hand, muttering an apology for her interruption. She looked like she has bad news.
“Again, I’m sorry to interrupt, but I just heard on the radio that the main road out to the interstate is blocked by a downed tree. It may be morning before they can get it off the road. I think you two are stuck here for the time being.”
Oh my God, I was stuck in a Bed and Breakfast with Logan. I didn’t know whether I should jump for joy or pass out in fear.
Logan turned to me, worry clearly showing on his face.
“I’m so sorry, Clare. Is Maddie going to be all right? Should I figure out a way to get us home?”
