28. Make Sacrifices For Me
A noise wakes me up,and with a gasp, I frantically look around to see where it’s coming from, my eyes settling on the phone next to the bedside table lamp.
Right. I’m in a hotel room.
I rub my eyes as the events from yesterday hit me like a brick. Logan and Josie. His silence when I begged him to give me a reason to stay.
With a sigh, I pick up the phone and bring it to my ear. “Hello?”
“Yes, hi. I’m sorry to bother you, Miss Bellevue, but a man is here for you.”
Logan.
The terrified look in his eyes comes back to me, and pulling the blanket closer to my chest, I swallow. “Tell him I won’t see him, please.”
“Oh, he didn’t ask me to call you. He just won’t leave, and he can’t stay here any longer. I’ve waited as long as possible, but if he doesn’t leave the property, I’ll have to call the police. I figured you’d want to know.”
Goddammit. “No, wait,” I say as I peel the blanket off and set my feet on the carpeted floor. “Don’t call the police. I’ll handle it.”
“Ma’am, are you sure?”
“Yes, quite.” I think I’m done with the police for a while. I stand and look around, locating my clothes on the armchair. “I’ll be right there.”
I hang up, and on the way, I stop in front of the mirror, but there’s little I can do with my hands alone to cover up the fact that I spent most of today crying.
I untie my hair, then ruffle it, and exasperated by the lack of results, I grab my key and walk down the flight of stairs.
When I enter the hall, the concierge points to the right. My eyes follow, and Logan is there, sitting with his back hunched and his elbows on his knees. He’s staring at the floor, but as I step forward, his chin lifts from his hands and he stands, visibly nervous.
“Hey.”
“Hi,” I say when I reach him. Though I’m still very much angry, I also feel too tired for it, and pain has taken over sometime during the night anyway. “Logan, you can’t stay here.”
“I just wanted to see you.”
“You can’t make me see you. Make me speak.” I shrug lightly. “Loitering in a hotel lobby for a woman who doesn’t want to talk to you isn’t...okay.”
His eyes study my face, then he nods, as if it just occurred to him that this might be inappropriate. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right. I thought...” He shakes his head. “I don’t know what I thought. I’ll go.”
I nod, surprised that’s all it took, and the moment of silence stretches. His blue-gray eyes, filled with hurt and unsaid words, are hard to look at.
“Okay. Bye.”
“Did you spend the whole day here?” I ask as he steps away.
“Uh, yeah.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry. It just made me feel better to be where you were. But I get it. It’s creepy, and I should respect your wishes.”
Yeah, all of that is true.
But he spent all day here, on this tiny plastic chair, not knowing if I’d even agree to see him. Not knowing if I’d listen to him, or talk. He tried. For me.
“Oh, you forgot this.” He holds out my flamingo scrunchie. He never did tell me why he took it. “You only have fifteen thousand. I figured you’d miss this one.”
I think of saying he can keep it, but he probably doesn’t want it anyway, and heart twisting, I accept it and hug it to my stomach. If this is the last time I see Logan, this will remind me of him.
“Okay. I’ll go now,” he says, but he doesn’t move. Instead, he rubs his jaw and presses his lips tightly for a moment. “Can I just say one thing?”
“Yes,” I blurt.
“I’m not in love with Josie,” he says, his voice steady. “Yesterday, when you asked, I hesitated, but it’s not because I’m not sure.” He pauses, and when I give him a nod, continues. “For the longest time, I was Logan, Josie’s boyfriend. And then I was Logan, dumped for his brother. Logan who isolated himself from his family because he couldn’t bear to be around her. Eventually, I found some balance in the everlasting unhappiness. But through it all, I was always Logan: in love with Josie. Unable to move on.”
My heart squeezes for him. With the shock I felt yesterday, I didn’t exactly stop to think about what happened between the three of them or how difficult it must be for him. Love or not, I don’t think you ever get over your brother marrying your ex.
“Then you showed up.”
My lips part, and his eyes soften when he notices.
“And since you came along, she never crossed my mind. Not in the way she used to. But I didn’t think much of it. I didn’t think about it at all—that’s the point. She was the cop after us, and my brother’s wife. But besides that, you consumed me. My whole mind.” He sighs, chewing on his bottom lip. “For the first time in five years, yesterday I knew the answer to your question. I wasn’t in love with her. I’m not. And I didn’t know how to process it right then and there.”
Tears fill my eyes.
I want to believe him so badly, and despite having this eerie feeling I’m headed straight for heartbreak, I think I do. But it doesn’t mean I can play fast and loose with my heart.
I have no idea if Josie talked to him. What if she didn’t? What if she does one month from now, when I’m even more used to his presence? When he’s even more important?
What if he’s saying all of this because he doesn’t know she wants him back?
“Logan, I...I think you have a lot of things to work through. And so do I, after...” Derek took a hammer on my confidence and trust. “Anyway, we should probably work on that before we—we consider anything else.”
“Oh.” His shoulders hunch, and I can distinctly see the moment the meaning of my words hits him. “Oh-kay, yes. Sure, I get it.”
He brings a hand to his face, rubbing his beard as his eyes bounce left and right over the floor, and tears sting at the back of my eyes, but for once, I refuse to cry. I know what it’ll do to him if I start sobbing, and the last thing I want is to hurt him. Actually, the last thing I want is to lose him, but I’m afraid that ship has sailed.
“I’m really sorry,” I insist. “I hope you know?—”
“I know.” His lips lift in a bitter smile. “And you’re right. I do have a lot to work through. I understand that you didn’t sign up for any of it.”
“But maybe at some point...” God, I don’t want this to be the last time I see him. What I want is to go back to the farm. Sleep against his chest. Wake up with his beard scratching my skin as he kisses me.
“Yeah. Maybe.” He takes a step back, and it feels like my heart rips with the new inches between us. Then he takes one forward, and his arms spread. “Should we...uh...”
With a nod, I hide my face in his shirt and wrap my arms around him. His smell is comforting like it’s always been, but I wonder if it will remind me of pain and heartbreak from now on.
“I’ll work on it, okay?” he whispers into my hair. “On being a better man for you. And then I’ll call you, and if you still want to see me, I’ll come to you, wherever you are.”
Don’t cry. Please, don’t cry until you’re alone in your room.
“Thank you,” he says as his hold tightens. “For everything.” He breathes hard against my hair, then lets me go, and it feels against any logic to untangle my arms from behind him, but I do.
He needs to talk to Josie and make sure he has no feelings for her. He needs to process his emotions, as unpleasant as they may be, before I can trust him with myself. After being hidden by men, lied to, and used, I can’t live my life thinking I’m his second choice.
Even though he’s never made me feel like one.
“Bye,” he says, and this time, he looks into my eyes for the briefest of moments. But it’s enough for me to see the light in them dim.
For me to see him hate himself just a little bit more.
* * *
I settle on the chair and wait for my laptop to turn on. The hotel room is small, but still better than a porch for a meeting with Chloe. Of course, I’d rather be on that porch, smoking weed with Logan. In his kitchen, making candy, or in his bed, tracing the shape of his muscles with my fingers.
God, I miss Lola and Paco so much.
I open the video conference room and watch myself in the left corner. My skin is almost gray, the purple and blue hues under my eyes testifying to hours of crying. No amount of makeup could have covered this, and anyway, I left most of it at Logan’s. At least Kyle promised to swing by and bring me my stuff later today.
Did Josie talk to Logan already? Are they back together, or did he reject her? Maybe I could ask Kyle.
“Hello?” Chloe’s face fills the screen, and with a happy wave, she says, “Hi, Primrose! How are you?”
“I’m good, Chloe, thank you. How are you?”
She’s joined by Jessica, whom I recognize as part of their HR department from previous interactions. “We’re having a sunny day in Mayfield, so we can’t complain.” Jessica sits, and pulling her dark hair into a ponytail, she juts her chin forward. “When will you be back?”
“In four days,” I say with a forced smile.
“Okay, Primrose, let me tell you,” She chuckles on my laptop screen. “This recipe is incredible. We asked one of our cooks to make it for us, and”—she bumps Jessica’s shoulder—“Tell her what I said.”
Jessica’s eyes widen. “‘No way is this vegan.’”
My smile wavers, but I slide it back on. “I’m so glad you like it.”
“It’s brilliant.”
Chloe nods. “This isn’t candy—it’s art.”
“Look—” Jessica holds a hand up, her eyes narrowing—“we’ve seen some crazy flavor combinations on your page, so when you said strawberry?”
“Yeah, we were skeptical at best.”
“Believe it or not,” Jessica says as she smacks a hand against the white table. “This is my new all-time favorite.”
My cheeks warm. It’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of, but of course, I feel none of the happiness I should be experiencing. “This is music to my ears.”
“We’ve already given it the green light, so we’ll get to work as soon as you start. We plan to launch it before the end of the year.”
“Wow, this is...incredible. I’m speechless.” Drying my sweaty hands against my thighs, I wiggle on the chair. It might just be my bad mood, but being in this tiny room makes me claustrophobic. I miss the fields, the fresh smell of grass and moss.
Only a handful of days ago, I missed home—the busy streets of Mayfield, my frenetic routine, the place where I always get smoothies when the city gets too warm in the summer. Now, the thought of going back only means getting farther away from Logan.
“It’s always been a dream of mine to work with Marisol. I’m so thankful for this opportunity.”
“We’re far more thrilled than you are, trust me,” Jessica says.
Chloe bobs her head, then turns to the camera. “Okay. Now, onto our only issue.”
As I swallow, my joy dampens. “Oh, uh...sure.”
“Not an issue,” Jessica scolds Chloe. “The sales marketing has reviewed your recipe and asked us to change a couple of ingredients.”
“Okay.” I don’t think I hide my shock well enough before I realize I need to look collected. I’m sure this is all part of the process. “Sure, let’s hear ’em.”
“We’d like to use refined sugar instead of brown sugar. We understand that the recipe will need adjustments, but...we’ve made some projections, and that’s the best way to ensure the highest revenue.”
I guess I can live with that. Many vegans close an eye on refined sugar anyway, and if they do, so can I.
“And gelatine instead of agar-agar.”
Gelatine?!“But that would...gelatine isn’t suitable for vegans.”
Chloe nods. “Yes, we understand that.”
I must really be stupid, because the first thought in my brain is that Logan will never get to eat my candy. He won’t be able to walk to the grocery store and buy a bag. Though the truth is, he probably wouldn’t anyway.
But this goes beyond Logan. “You know...you know my whole brand is about making candy for people who can’t typically eat it. And with gelatine, making it unsuitable for vegans, and white sugar, making it inaccessible for?—”
“We get it,” Jessica says, but her sweet smile feels awfully insincere now. “But we want to make this candy accessible to the masses, and we need to keep our costs low.”
I get that, but they’re talking about stripping my product of the one quality that makes it mine. I make candy for people who can’t have candy. That’s the one thing that I’ve never compromised on. Good god, I’ve been worrying about the recipe to submit when I should have been concerned about my whole brand being shoved aside.
“I’ll be honest,” I say as I fix them both with a cold look. “I’m a little surprised. I think I’ll need a moment to consider this and get back to you.”
“How about we send the contract over? I’m sure if you also look at the financial aspect, you’ll?—”
“The financial aspect doesn’t overly concern me,” I say softly. I’ve never been a very money-driven person, and I make a good living with my social media. “But please send the contract, and I’ll go through it.”
“All right. We hope you’ll consider?—”
“Thank you,” I say curtly. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
I snap the laptop shut, then breathe out.
Of course, this is how these two weeks would end. With me losing Logan and my opportunity with Marisol. I would have accepted anything—any freaking thing—but this.
A new recipe. More or less of whatever ingredient. But to strip my recipe of its value would be an insult to me and my audience.
It’s disrespectful they even suggested this.
Yes, my lack of the usual politeness might have something to do with what’s happening with Logan, but what I said stands. I will not change the heart of my recipes.
I slump back in bed and scroll mindlessly on my phone. I expected to miss this much more than I actually did while I was at Logan’s, and though it’s nice to connect with the world again, I quickly get bored of social media.
There’s nothing on there for me. Everything I want has already slipped through my fingers.
When there’s a frantic knock at my door, I jump up and bring a hand to my chest. “Jesus,” I mumble when the knocking continues. Yes, I’m coming.”
I walk to the door, then open it, Kyle’s crazed eyes meeting mine. “Prim, you have to come back—you have to help me.” He enters the room, pacing at the foot of the bed as he rubs both hands on his short brown hair. “I don’t know what to do, and—this is so fucked up, okay? All he left is a message, and then I had to take the pigs and bring them home. And he said there’s a check? This check?—”
“Kyle?” I call, my heartbeat quickening as I try to understand what he’s saying.
He shakes his head. “What am I supposed to do with it? Simon’s kid is sick, and he doesn’t answer his phone and?—”
“Kyle!” I insist as I grasp his arm. I have no idea what he’s talking about, but I can feel that something happened to Logan. And I know it’s my fault. “What happened?”
He grimaces, worried wrinkles appearing on his forehead. “They took him away—the police. He got arrested.”