Waiting for the One

by L. A. Fiore

  Founder’s Day. This is another day I simply don’t get. Like a smaller-scale Civil War reenactment, it confuses everyone, because the town wasn’t really founded, it was stumbled upon. This does not deter Chastity, and in fact she has taken the liberty of rewriting history to make the day more eventful. How, you wonder? Well, for one the costumes are not historically accurate. Most are far too fancy to be anything the early residents could have owned. And there’s a ball. Where they would have held a ball in the middle of nowhere, I can’t say, but Chastity thinks it’s good for the town that we all believe there was a ball.

  Let’s face it, hundreds of years later and we still can’t claim a thousand residents. When the town began, there would have only been a handful of people, most of them related to each other. I doubt they would have thought, “Oh, let’s have a ball.”

  So here I am wearing a period gown, probably more accurate for Victorian-era London, watching in the mirror as Josh twists my hair up and thinking of Frank. This is one festival that I shared annually with him. We sat in the background like Statler and Waldorf from The Muppets. With him gone, it just isn’t going to be the same. And like the smell of swordfish that never seems to fade away, I have got to make a decision on what to do with his money.

  My thoughts have detoured back to that article and my phone conversation with my mom far more often in the past few days than I would like. I wonder if Logan saw the article. Has the reality of seeing us in black and white finally knocked some sense into him? He can do better than me and that’s not me being pathetic or agreeing with my mother. It is just a simple truth.

  It is entirely possible that Josh is right. Logan finds the quiet life of Harrington appealing, for now, and I’m part of his life here. Logan has said it himself, the undercurrents of the art world are suffocating. But he’s an artist and, good or bad, there’s a part of him that loves that world or he wouldn’t still be part of it. And he is. Every other week he’s in Manhattan, he’s David. So it’s not too hard to believe that he will eventually return to the world that is so enamored of him, especially if his hideaway is overrun by the press, destroying that quiet life. And if he does go, he’ll be leaving some wreckage behind, namely my heart.

  And as I sit there, seeing my ridiculous reflection in the mirror, wondering if the man I’m in love with really feels the same or is only smitten with the idea of me, I realize the last place I want to be right now is at some stupid event that’s not even historically accurate.

  “Let’s blow off Founder’s Day and get drunk.”

  “Seriously?” Josh stops working on my hair. A poker player he is not, because he clearly likes the idea.

  “Yeah. You in, Gwen?”

  “Hell yeah. I couldn’t drink a beer in this corset.”

  So we do get drunk and it doesn’t take long, since we’re just pounding them back.

  “I’m hungry,” Gwen says.

  “Yeah, me too, and there is all that catered food at Town Hall,” Josh adds.

  “You want to crash the party?” I ask.

  “We’ll be like shadows, no one will know we’re there.” Josh holds an elbow out to each of us.

  Gwen and I don’t have to be asked twice. “Okay.”

  The ball portion of the night has begun by the time we arrive and the dance floor is packed with swaying couples. Logan is easy to spot, since he stands so much taller than the others in the room. He has his head lowered slightly as he talks to Broderick. He looks good—sexy is a better word. And because I’m drunk, I have fully convinced myself that he’ll be leaving me, breaking my heart in the process. In this moment, I wish I had laser beams for eyes and giggle at the visual of Logan disintegrating before me, turning into a smoldering pile of black ash. Mean and completely uncalled for, but oddly comforting. Josh disrupts me from my fantasy.

  “Look, a whole plate of shrimp.”

  “Grab it; I’ll get the cocktail sauce,” I say.

  Gwen comes up behind us carrying a tray loaded with lunchmeats. “I nicked this.”

  Slang coming from Gwen is so uncharacteristic that I can’t help laughing.

  “What?” she says.

  “You, what’s up with the slang lately?”

  “Sons of Anarchy.”

  “You’re watching it?”

  “Yep. You’re right, it’s awesome and I love Jax.”

  “Already called him. Wait, the slang, you trying to be an old lady?”

  “I could pull it off.”

  Taking in her pink cashmere sweater set, I bust out laughing. “I don’t think so.”

  She flips me off. On second thought . . .

  “We should get wine,” Josh says as he tries to balance the plate of shrimp and another of olives. We’re so busy raiding the food table that we don’t notice anyone’s approached until Tommy speaks up from behind us. Josh almost drops our goodies.

  Feeling a bit like an old lady myself, I channel Jax’s mom, Gemma, and get all up in Tommy’s face. “Didn’t anyone teach you not to sneak up on people?”

  “Didn’t anyone teach you not to steal?”

  “Steal? We’re not stealing, we’re eating,” I say in outrage.

  “That food is for everyone,” he insists.

  At that moment, I just snap. I poke Tommy in the chest with my finger.

  “Everyone, really? Where was everyone during the Swordfish Festival cleanup? And during the God of the Sea Festival where I drowned?”

  He looks sullen now, but my vision is less than perfect at the moment, so I don’t notice. What else I don’t notice is how loud I’m getting as I poke Tommy in the chest with each of my points.

  “I deserve this shrimp. Born to people who clearly shouldn’t have reproduced, I date my best friend and turn him gay, date another man who doesn’t know he’s gay, almost have dinner with a third man who’s more interested in his reflection than me, and land on a yeti who turns out to be a millionaire playboy.

  “I lost the man I thought of as a father, had my thirtieth birthday party minus any family, and now I’m being dissed in the gossip rags. I am only human and I can take no more, so, yes, I have consumed my body weight in wine and I plan on eating this whole goddamn plate of shrimp.”

  It’s then that I realize every eye in the room is on me, but I’m drunk enough that I just don’t care. “Does anyone have a problem with that?”

  Silence meets that question. I turn to Gwen and Josh, who are doubled over with laughter. “Shall we?” I look back over my shoulder at Tommy. “Grab a bottle of wine and join us.”

  Winking, I walk from the room with my head held high. “You are so going to hell,” Tommy says as he steers me down the steps of Town Hall ahead of our friends.

  “I’ve been living there for quite a while now.”

  He stops and Gwen and Josh continue to stagger forward. Instead of anger, I see love and understanding in his gaze. “Did that feel good?”

  I sigh. “You have no idea.”

  “Come on, I’m hungry,” Josh hollers. Tommy reaches for my hand again as we follow the others.

  While I’m working the following evening, many people have approached me to talk: people I haven’t chatted with in years. I guess everyone’s allowed a meltdown, even as big a one as I had. Maybe we all deserved the shrimp, after all. The door opens and Logan walks in. When he’s close enough, he asks, “Can we talk?”

  I should talk to him, but I’m feeling a bit cowardly. “I’m working.”

  “It won’t take long.”

  That doesn’t sound good. Suddenly my stomach is doing that weird thing it does when I’m watching a particularly suspenseful movie. “Okay. Tommy, I’m taking a break.”

  I follow Logan outside, and we walk beyond the parking lot to where it’s more private.

  “What was that last night?” he asks without preamble.

  “I was drunk.”

  “Don’t bullshit me, Saffron. You were drunk for a reason. What’s that reason?”

  “Frank and I l
oved Founder’s Day, so I wasn’t exactly dealing well.” It’s part of the truth.

  A softness enters his expression. “Understandable, but I think there’s more to it. Did you see the article about us?”

  The urge to lower my head is strong. Here it comes—his wake-up call that he isn’t where he wants to be or with the person he wants. “Yes.”

  “I can’t control the gossip. David has always been a popular subject for the paparazzi.”

  “I know, but how do you stand it?”

  “It’s not easy having your every move observed and commented on, your relationships held under a microscope to be picked apart by people who know nothing about you. It’s one of the reasons I have never allowed myself to get serious about anyone. Putting dates through that is unfair. I never meant to fall in love with you, Saffron. My intention in moving here was to get out of the rat race, to get my life back. Walking into Tucker’s and seeing you behind the bar, listening to you laugh and joke with your customers, you mesmerized me. When you started your game, seeming to understand that I needed space and yet still offering a hand, you had me. That article is wrong. You are far above me. I’m the one who should be counting my lucky stars that a woman like you—with your smile and the way your eyes twinkle with genuine interest and affection for those around you—would even look twice at a man like me. As much as I would like for it to be different, David will always be in the mix and that means the public will always want a piece of him.”

  He moves closer to take my hands into his. “Tell me you can live with that. Tell me I have a chance with you, even knowing that your life will be different if you agree.”

  My words won’t come. Every one of the fears I’ve been stewing over for weeks has been obliterated with one very well-done speech. I am an idiot. Lifting his hands, I press a kiss in his palm, a tear slipping from under my lid to drip in the place I just kissed.

  “Saffron?”

  “My real fear, the one that had me running away, was that you would realize you were making a mistake. I was waiting for you to come to your senses, and the thought of you walking away from me was too hard to deal with.”

  “I’m not walking.”

  “I want a life with you, and that includes everything that makes up you.”

  “Will you have dinner with me tomorrow night?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll come for you at seven.”

  “Okay.”

  He doesn’t kiss me, doesn’t pull me close, just lifts our joined hands and mirrors my act of kissing my palm. And then he walks away.

  Watching him go, I place a hand over my rapidly beating heart. I am an idiot, but a blissfully happy one.

  Exactly at seven the next evening, Logan knocks at the door. I open it, but before either of us speaks a word, Reaper comes barreling into the room. Seeing Logan, he attempts to stop and fails to, instead falling on his butt, sliding along the floor with all four paws out in front of him.

  “He’s adorable.” Logan shifts his eyes from Reaper to me. “He can come.”

  “Really?”

  Humor twinkles in his eyes. “Yes.”

  “Okay.” I grab the leash from the table and clip it onto Reaper’s collar. Moments later Logan settles Reaper on my lap in the car, closing the door before climbing in himself. When we arrive at the lighthouse, I’m a bit confused to see several familiar cars in the drive.

  Logan parks and shuts off the engine. “I invited a few people over. I hope that’s okay with you.”

  “Why did you?”

  “Because I’m asking you to take all of me and I want all of you. Your friends are part of you.”

  God, he’s amazing. As much as I would like to have him all to myself, I can’t deny that I like the idea of him getting to know my friends better. “Good answer.”

  We step inside and are greeted by the sound of voices, my friends’ and his brothers’, coming from down the hall. When we reach the kitchen, all eyes turn to us.

  “Finally. I’m getting hungry.” No surprise it’s Dante whining about food.

  “Saffron, come on over here and help me peel these shrimp, considering how much you like them,” Tommy calls, which sets off laughter.

  Logan comes up behind me, his hand at the small of my back, and he offers me a glass of wine. Reaching for his own, he leads me out back to where the grill is set up.

  “We’re having swordfish,” he says, cleaning the grill grates. He looks at me from over his shoulder and winks.

  “Funny.”

  “Did you like my tribute to the town?”

  “I did, but why a swordfish?”

  “The day you pelted me in the face with a swordfish funnel cake, and by the way—what the fuck—was when my admiration for you turned into something more.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  He takes a sip from his wine, eying me from over the rim. “Oh, I am.”

  “Why?”

  “Because that was the day you were jealous over my dalliance with Chastity.”

  I’ve just taken a sip of my own wine, and I almost choke on it. Once I’m able to breathe again, I ask, “Are you kidding me?”

  He says nothing, just stares at me.

  “Are you feeling all right, Logan?” I nod at the grill just behind him. “Are you sure there isn’t a gas leak?”

  A smile slowly spreads over his face. He reaches for my hand and guides me closer to the water. “Never better.”

  Under the moon, he wraps me in his arms and slowly sways with me to a tune only he can hear. Being up against his hard, warm body is like a fix to a junkie and I settle myself more snugly into his embrace.

  His lips are near my temple and I can feel his soft breath on my skin when he speaks. “You took a terrible festival and made it fun. You saved George from taking a bath by buying up half of his stock and making it so others would buy the rest and, in the process, made the day enjoyable. Even now people still talk about it as one of the best festivals ever. I fell in love with you that day.”

  I pull back, convinced I am going to have to smack him for teasing me again, but I see the truth in his eyes.

  “That sculpture is more for me than the town. Every time I pass it, I think of you.”

  I kiss him then. I couldn’t stop myself even if I wanted to. Logan doesn’t hesitate to wrap his hands around my face so he can take the kiss deeper. His lips are possessive as they touch, taste, and reclaim and, with the coaxing of his seductive mouth, he’s making me feel it all again—the profound emotion that only he is able to stir in me. How could I have ever doubted this? I’m lost in my raging need for him, but somehow he finds the strength to pull away.

  His lips brush lightly over mine. “I have missed you. But now I need to get the steaks and maybe climb into the freezer for a minute.”

  I fan myself before replying, “You and me both.”

  He winks before he disappears back into the house.

  Tilting my head back, I sigh. It’s beautiful tonight with the stars dotting the twilight sky and the soothing sound of the water lapping against the beach. But the real reason for my sigh is that I’m not waiting for the other shoe to drop. Finally. It’s not all going to be smooth sailing, but Logan and I are in it together and that is beautiful. Voices carry out into the night and my friends come outside, Logan in the rear with a huge tray of marinated steaks. He looks so handsome in the moment. More so because he looks so natural. All those magazines that see him as the millionaire playboy wouldn’t believe it’s the same person laughing with his brothers and Mitch while flipping steaks.

  Josh walks over to join me. “How are you doing?”

  “I am doing just fine.”

  “I was surprised and pleased when he called the other day and invited us for a barbecue.”

  “When did he call you?”

  “Two days ago.”

  “So before the ball and my lovely performance.” That makes me smile. “Let’s see if we can help with dinner.”

>   Broderick is just setting the table when we join him inside. “Can we help?”

  “Could you get the silverware? It’s on the counter in the kitchen.”

  “Sure thing. I’ll get it.” I’m sidetracked in the living room by a painting that I don’t recognize. As I approach, I recognize Tucker’s. In the picture, I’m building a Guinness and talking to George. My face is in profile and I’m laughing. The detail is so exquisite it’s hard to believe that it isn’t a photo. I don’t hear Logan until he’s standing right next to me.

  “When did you do this?”

  “While I was in Scotland.”

  My gaze shifts to him but he’s still fixed on the portrait. “Like I said, I missed you like hell.” He kisses my cheek. “Dinner’s ready.”

  After his brother’s strip steaks, baked potatoes, and grilled vegetables, Broderick whipped up a chocolate mousse cake that was so good Mitch asked for the recipe. I’m sitting in a chair near the fire that Logan has lit, with Reaper in my lap. The warmth from the fire and Reaper’s snuggly body, combined with the food and wine, sends me into a dozy state.

  “Would you like me to take you home?” Logan hunches down next to me.

  I don’t really want to go, but I know I’m not going to be awake much longer. “Okay.”

  We say our good-byes and before long I’m settled in Logan’s very comfortable car. We barely make it down the street before I fall asleep. Minutes later, Logan is brushing his fingers over my cheek. “You’re home, Saffron.”

  My eyes flutter open and I stifle a yawn just as he lifts me and Reaper into his arms and carries us to the door. He takes my keys and somehow manages to unlock the door while still carrying me. Lust stirs to life as Logan carries me to my room. It’s so powerful that when he lowers me onto the bed, I almost pull him down on top of me. Reaper defuses the sexually charged moment when he jumps from the bed and runs around before darting out of the bedroom.

  “Good night, Saffron.”

  “Thank you for tonight, it was perfect.”

  He starts from the room, but I call him back. “Stay, Logan, I miss sleeping next to you.”