“How do you know he’s not just going to disappear if he’s only sent emails?”, Abby asks, sidestepping the change of conversation. She tips her chin up, wanting to know more.
“He hasn’t only been sending emails.” I wince, biting my bottom lip. Chills spread across my skin, remembering how it felt knowing Julian had been inside our house. “We think he broke into our house a few weeks back.”
“What?” She leans forward, her chest pressing against the edge of the wooden table. Her gold necklace dips, dancing across the glossy top. “You assured me you had an excellent security system. How in the hell did he get in?” Her anger has begun to boil over, her cheeks staining with red and her smooth lips thinning.
“It is a good system,” I reassure her. “I don’t know how he got in. He’s smart so I’m not surprised if he found a way to unlock it. We changed the code after it happened, and we made an appointment to have the new upgraded system installed this week.”
“Huh,” she says, still clearly stunned. She picks up a chip, a string of cheese hanging off the end. Popping it into her mouth, she chews. Her cheeks are still blushed with red, her anger subsiding.
I repeat the words I just said to Abby in my head. I wanted to believe the new system would make us feel safer in our own home. Ever since I’d opened up to Logan about the emails, he immediately jumped to wanting to upgrade our system. Julian had returned and we were more prepared to protect ourselves this time, not willing to take any chances.
In a way, Julian had taken advantage of my weaknesses. He sent those emails, boldly, knowing I would suffer in silence. He always had a knack for exposing my weaknesses and using them to his advantage. I’ve been married to Logan for nearly a year but had managed to carry a piece of Julian along with me. Fear had overridden my courage. The weakness that had been embedded in me after my relationship with Julian was all but gone now. Being with Logan has taught me more than I had bargained for. He taught me to trust, even when the truth may hurt.
I’m silent, suddenly unsure of where Abby and I were going to take our conversation. There were many things that needed to be said between us, yet none at all. My eyes move past Abby, watching a man sitting at the bar. His back is facing me, but I can see his reflection in the large mirror covering the back wall of the bar. He’s wearing a black sweatshirt, the hood pulled up over his head. My breath catches in my throat when his eyes meet mine. He removes his hood, allowing his brown mop of curly hair to fall down around his face.
A heavy breath escapes my chest. I lift my hand, pressing it against the bottom of my neck. My pulse beats against my fingertips.
“Were you home?”
Abby’s voice brings me back to her. She’s chewing on another bite of the Irish nachos. The basket nearly half empty.
“What?”
“I asked you if you were home when Julian broke in.”
“Oh.” I brush my hair away from my face, gripping the back of my neck and leaning my elbow on the table. “No, I wasn’t. I was at my meeting with Candace in Tacoma.”
“Good.” She nods, waving to the waiter for a refill of her drink. She raises her arm, snapping her fingers.
I study Abby, trying to understand her reactions. One second, she’s calm and cool, the next she’s hot and damn near boiling over in anger. Maybe the time and distance we were apart from each other put a distance in our friendship. Over the course of time, we’ve become two different people, changing with our experiences. Along with the time spent apart, Abby wasn’t the one who took the brunt of Julian’s abuse. Most of her experiences were ones I only told her about, after the fact. She isn’t as close to the situation as Logan and I are.
“Was Logan home?” she asks.
“No.”
She shakes her head, wiping her mouth with her napkin. “Well, I’m glad neither of you were home.”
“Yeah, thanks.” I give her a reassuring smile. “Look, Abby. I just want you to be careful.” I search the pub, glancing at the faces of the people surrounding us. “We’re not sure how far he’s willing to take this, and I want you to be safe.”
“I will be.” Her mouth forms a flat line, her red lips thinning.
“Abby...” I can tell she’s putting on a front, showing she’s stronger than I think. Not taking this as seriously as she should.
“Lena,” she sighs. “I can take care of myself. I have for the past several years, ever since I left for college. Don’t start worrying about me now. If Julian’s been around this long and you’re just now telling me, how dangerous can he be?”
A piece of me sits shocked. Shocked with Abby’s lack of concern for me, Logan, and even herself. My eyebrows dip in confusion. How could she not worry?
I decide to change the subject. “How’s the office coming along? Last I heard, you said they were delivering the signs.”
She grabs another chip, biting it in half. “It’s coming along.” She taps the back of my hand. “Sorry I haven’t invited you to come over and see it. I’d rather wait until it’s completely finished. Make it a grand opening of sorts. Well, more like a grand opening for Lena.”
“I’ll be there.” I grin, thankful to have moved on. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” I fish a small piece of ice from my glass with my straw, crunching on it until it dissolves against my tongue. “When are you thinking of having the real grand opening.”
She shrugs. “The plan is to open in about three weeks. That’s if the contractors can stick to the schedule and there are no hiccups.”
I nod, proud of how far Abby has come since moving to Seattle. She finishes the basket of chips on her own, leaving a few crumbs scattering the bottom of the basket. Despite how delicious they looked, my thoughts were too preoccupied to be focused on eating, knowing Julian was out there.
Abby tips back the last few drops of her Bloody Mary, signaling the waiter for another drink round.
I hold up my hand, picking my phone up from the table. “Actually, Abby. I should get going.”
“Oh come on.” She pouts. “This lunch was just starting to get fun. Now that we have all the bullshit chatter out of the way. Logan this, Julian that. Blah, blah, blah.”
“What?” I tilt my head back, surprised she would call our conversation ‘bullshit’. I can tell the alcohol has already started to take effect. Her violet eyes are two glass orbs, reflecting against the yellow industrial lights hanging above us. Her movements have become more animated over time. She waves her hands, then leans against the table, nudging it with her body.
“I didn’t mean it like that.” She rolls her eyes.
“Then how did you mean it, Abby? I don’t think you understand what I’m trying to tell you. Do you think this is a game?”
She scoffs, narrowing her eyes. They morph into two small slits. Her neck is flushed with pink as she stares at me across the table. “Of course I don’t think it’s a game, Lena. I’m fairly certain I know how big of an asshole your ex-boyfriend can be. I was there, remember?”
“I remember, Abby.” I stand from my seat, sliding my arms into my leather jacket.
“Look,” she says, reaching her arm out across the table. She can’t reach me from where I’m standing but I can see she’s hoping I won’t leave. “I’m just tired of always talking about you and Julian. And now you’ve forgiven Logan for having an affair.”
“He’s not having an affair, Abby. I told you. Someone is trying to set us up. Trying to ruin my marriage.”
She widens her eyes. “Whatever you say.”
“Seriously?” My jaw drops, the sting of my best friend’s words shooting straight through my chest. She doesn’t answer me, her vacant eyes staring right through me. This conversation has gone from apologies to warnings to outright anger. “I’m trying to warn you, Abby. I just want you to be safe. And me forgiving Logan for something I know he didn’t do is on me. It’s my marriage so why don’t you just stay out of it.” I grab my purse from the back of my chair and storm out of the pub.
My feet don’t take me very far, the constant weaving between tables slowing me down. I shove my hands against the large wooden door, stepping out onto the sidewalk. The cool fall air whips against my face. A hand reaches out, gripping my arm. I stop and spin around to find Abby behind me.
As if to protect myself from further blows from Abby, I cross my arms over my chest.
“I’m sorry, Lena,” she says.
I dart my eyes away from her, focusing on the constant flow of cars passing us on the street. It’s a busy afternoon, rush hour traffic.
“I shouldn’t have said what I said in there.” She places her hand on my arm, pulling me to face her.
Reluctantly, I finally look at her. Her eyes are lined with tears.
“I just wish you knew how important you are to me. You didn’t deserve what Julian did to you and you don’t deserve what Logan is doing to you. That’s all.”
I sigh. A part of me is relieved to know Abby cares. The other part wishes she would understand that my decisions were mine to make and that she would take my warning more seriously. “I appreciate your concern. But I know Logan and you have to respect my decision to stay with him.”
Her arms fall to her sides as she takes a step back. “Fine. I will.”
I step toward her, reaching for her hand. “Please listen to me, Abby. Julian’s back. That much I do know. I need you to be careful. You mean too much to me.”
Crossing her arms, she twists her mouth, looking down at the ground. “Okay.”
“Thank you.” I sigh. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
“Sure.” She gives me a reassuring smile.
I turn to walk down the street to where my car is parked along the curb. I focus on my steps, all the while feeling her eyes still on me. I’m halfway to my car when I glance over my shoulder, checking to see if she’s till there but she isn’t. She’s already gone.
Twenty-Three
Logan
“Excuse me, Chef. Table twenty wanted their swordfish without cayenne.”
I glance up from my cutting board, finding one of our servers Trevor standing on the opposite side. His expression is hesitant, knowing I hate having to remake entire dishes. It’s a waste of food and my time.
I groan, grabbing the plate he’s placed on top. I narrow my eyes at Trevor. “Did you say eighty-six the cayenne when you entered the order in?”
“Yes, Chef.” Trevor nods.
“That was my fault,” Natalie says, sidling up beside me. It’s as if she’s appeared out of nowhere.
She grabs the plate from my hand. “I’m sorry, Trevor. Tell them I’m making them a new one right now.”
Trevor nods then exits the kitchen.
I resume my cutting without taking another look at Natalie. For the past several days, it’s been difficult to work any shift with Natalie. She’d avoided me, much the same as I had avoided her.
There were some days, usually the ones where we spent an entire eight-hour shift together where I regretted not firing her for what she had done. It was awkward to say the least. The wounds from my argument with Lena were still fresh. I didn’t need to give her another reason to doubt me and the longer Natalie stuck around, the more likely I knew it could happen again. I had to be careful around her. Speak just enough to make work bearable, all the while not allowing things to get too personal.
“Logan?”
Natalie’s voice rings in my ear, filtering over the sounds of my knife meeting the wooden cutting board. I keep slicing, hoping her wanting to talk is work related.
She dips her head, growing closer to my face. “Logan?”
I still don’t answer her.
“Chef?”
“What?” I yell, dropping my knife.
The entire kitchen stops, their heads popping up to see why I’ve just yelled in the middle of the dinner rush.
I sigh, closing my eyes. Fuck.
I look around the kitchen, willing them to resume their work without speaking a word. Reading my face, they all pop their heads back down. Natalie’s eyes are spread wide, her mouth opened slightly.
“What is it, Natalie?” I pick my knife back up, grabbing another handful of basil.
“Um, I wanted to apologize for what happened with the cayenne at Trevor’s table. I misread the ticket.”
“It’s fine.” My muscles feel tightened, stretching across my back. I glance up at the clock seeing I only have two more hours before I can leave and go home to Lena. If I wasn’t home, I was constantly worried about her. Lena and I have stepped up our security game as far as communication goes. Tomorrow the security company was coming by to install cameras, an extra measure I knew we needed. Aside from the heightened surveillance, Lena and I agreed to text each other every two hours, just to be on the safe side. I wasn’t sure how effective this plan would be long term, but it was a solution we had for now.
When Lena had told me about the emails she had been receiving from Julian, my first instinct was to run. The same feeling of protectiveness took over. But I knew that had been the reason Lena hadn’t told me from the start. Deep in my soul, I knew we couldn’t keep running. Seattle had become our home. I couldn’t rip that away from Lena, or myself.
Lena’s confession about the emails also had me thinking about the pictures. Julian had attempted to paint me into an unfaithful husband, abusing my marriage. My question was why. If he hadn’t made an appearance yet, what was his master plan?
Sensing Natalie’s presence, I look up from my board. She’s now beside me, slicing a new piece of swordfish. I watch her as she carefully slices the flesh away from the skin. She’s talented, I’ll give her that. Not a piece of fish shredded, her knife gliding across like butter.
Her words from the night she had kissed me still picked at the back of my brain. I couldn’t explain it. As I watch Natalie season her filet, placing it onto a sheet pan, I try to study her. Willing her to give me a sign there’s more to her than just a young chef from California, starting out her career in Seattle.
The next two hours fly by. It was a fairly busy night and I was glad to see the last of the reservations finally starting to come in. Max had popped into the kitchen, relieving me from the line. Ever since he offered me the partner position, he’s been more willing to split the time between actual cooking and office work. Once I’m cleaned up, I leave the restaurant and head toward my car. Several feet in front of me, I spot Natalie.
Deciding that my need for answers outweighed my desire to talk to her, I jog, catching up to her.
“Natalie,” I say, falling into step with her.
She stops when she realizes it’s me, her eyes growing wide. Her hair is still tied back into a high ponytail, the end swaying with her movements. “Oh, Logan. Hi.”
“I’m sorry to stop you. I wanted to ask you something.”
“Sure.” She curls in on herself. I can tell she’s afraid to talk to me. It’s as if she’s a different person than the one I met. The one who had kissed me only several weeks ago. She’s shy and timid. “What is it?”
I slide my hands into my pockets. “I wanted to ask you about something you said the night you kissed me.”
Her eyebrows shoot across her forehead, the brown arches curving above her soft eyes. “Logan.” She shakes her head. “We don’t have to talk about it. Like I said, it was a mistake. I shouldn’t have done it.” She sidesteps around me, continuing her walk. She keeps her head low and her hands wrapped around the strap of her purse.
I follow her, stopping her again. “Wait, Natalie. Please.”
She shakes her head, shrugging her shoulders. “I don’t know what else you want me to say, Logan. I’ve kept to myself these past few weeks. I’ve kept my head down and done the work. I love working at Bistro, more than I thought I would, and I don’t want to lose my job. It’s not worth it. I think it’s best if we forget about the whole thing.”
“I get it, Natalie. You’re an excellent chef. You’ve proven yourself. That’s why I haven’t fi
red you. I know you want to forget the kiss, but I need to know why you keep saying you didn’t expect to love the job.”
Her eyebrows knit in confusion. “I don’t get what you mean.”
“When we first met, on the day we were doing inventory, you couldn’t stop talking about how you were looking forward to working here. You ran your whole resume off to me like every other chef does. Like a badge of honor. But that night, in the parking lot, you said you didn’t expect to love the job. For someone who was raving about working here, it doesn’t sound right for you to not expect to love it.”
Natalie moves her gaze, focusing on her feet. She keeps her hands wrapped around her purse, scratching at one of her fingernails. She looks nervous under the night sky. A car passes as she glances over her shoulder, twisting her mouth.
I hold my breath, waiting for an answer. She’s silent, words clearly resting on the tip of her tongue. When her eyes catch mine, I know my intuition is right. Fear is woven into her gaze. She opens her mouth then closes it several times before finally speaking.
“I think you’re reading too much into my words, Logan. That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?” The cool air brushes along my skin. Goose bumps scatter across the skin of my arms. I cross them across my chest, hoping Natalie will let me in, even just a fraction.
She sighs, rolling her eyes. “I don’t know what I meant by it. This was my first real job out of college. I didn’t want to screw it up. That’s all.”
I shake my head and unravel my arms. I still don’t believe her. There was hesitation in her voice. Unconvincing. “I don’t think that’s it, Natalie.”
“What do you want me to say, Logan?” she yells, stepping back, holding out her arms in surrender. “Just leave it alone, okay?”
I jerk my head back, stunned at her reaction. Her fear is magnified, moving across her body.
“I’m sorry.” I step forward, reaching my hand out. She steps back even farther, her chin quivering.
Mine: A Romantic Suspense Thriller (A Back to Me Series Book 2) Page 20
