23. Daphne
23
DAPHNE
I peer over my menu at Logan. He’s so handsome in his dark green sweater. I love how it deepens the Christmas tree green of his eyes. He’ll be home for Christmas this year, so maybe we can decorate a tree together. I haven’t done a tree the past couple of years because it’s just me, but if it will be the two of us, I’d like to do something. I have the decorations from my family growing up and Gran’s too. There’s a Christmas shop here on the Mall. Maybe we can find an ornament to remember this time. Or not. Maybe it’s stupid to plan for something that’s probably not going to happen. He’s going to go to Europe and will get involved in stuff and not come home for Christmas. He does this every year. But he’s never broken a promise to me. He hasn’t said he’d come home and then didn’t. He just doesn’t commit.
I refocus on the menu to avoid the rising sadness. “I’m getting a grilled ham and cheese. Want to split a basket of fries?”
Logan smiles. “Yeah, fries sound good. I’m getting the bacon cheeseburger. I’ll eat your pickle.”
I can’t help it. I snort-laugh because that sounded kinky, and there are times I have the sense of humor of a twelve-year-old boy.
He smirks, which tells me he’s about to make a suggestive comment back, but our server’s arrival stops him.
“Hi, I’m Steve. Can I get you something from the bar or an appetizer to start?” Steve is around our age, with dark blonde hair flopping in his bright blue eyes. He’s handsome.
I smile up at him. “Hi, Steve. I think we’re ready to order everything. I’d like an unsweetened iced tea and the grilled ham and cheese on rye. Can I get that with Swiss cheese, please?”
“For you, beautiful, absolutely.” Steve winks.
I feel myself flush. I’m not used to this kind of attention. He turns to Logan and asks what he’d like.
Logan orders his bacon cheeseburger, a basket of fries to share, and a Guinness.
After Steve walks away to place our order with the kitchen and get our drinks, I ask, “What’s up with ordering fries to quote, share with my girlfriend , end quote?” I even do air quotes to be extra obnoxious. Why should Logan have a monopoly on the trait?
“He was flirting with you. That’s not cool.”
What the hell? Logan’s never jealous.
I reach out and grab his hand where it rests on the table and lace our fingers together. “Who cares? I’m here with you, and there’s no one else I want to be with. You didn’t have to metaphorically pee on me to stake your claim.”
He unlaces our fingers but lifts my hand to his lips to press a kiss to my palm. “I’m going to sound like an asshole saying you’re mine, but you are. I don’t like other guys trying to pick you up. You don’t recognize it, but guys flirt with you all the time.”
I scoff. “No, they don’t! Guys never notice me.”
Steve comes up to the table with our drinks. “Guys totally notice you. I was flirting with you.” He gestures with his chin. “Those two guys at the bar are checking you out. Your boyfriend is the luckiest man in here tonight.”
I’m flabbergasted, but curious. “I’m obviously here with someone. Why bother flirting with me?”
Steve shrugs. “There’s always the chance he’s your brother, or the date doesn’t turn out well. I want to save my place in line. It’s a pretty successful strategy.”
I blink. I’m pretty sure that’s the skeeviest thing I’ve ever heard. “Oh.”
Steve walks away, and Logan flashes me an I told you so expression. He’s so annoying when he’s right.
“Are girls more attractive when they’re with a guy? No one usually pays attention to me.”
Logan looks at me like I’m daft. “Daphne, guys have always paid attention to you. You just don’t recognize it.”
I don’t believe him. “Name one,” I challenge him.
“Soccer Matt, Ben, Ferd, Baseball Matt, Liam. Shall I go on?” Logan leans back in the booth with his arms across his chest and a smirk on his face. He named four guys we knew in college off the top of his head. They were classmates of ours, and a couple were friends of his. Ferd was his roommate. His cousin, Liam? No way.
“None of those guys in college ever asked me out. They were not interested in me.”
I see red creep up Logan’s neck. “Well, I made it known you were off limits.”
What the ever-loving hell? My hands ball into fists on the table, and my jaw tightens so hard I think it might break. Thank goodness I don’t have any mystical powers because there would be lasers shooting through my eyes as well.
He knows he’s in trouble because the words spill out all at once as he rushes to explain. “None of them were good enough for you. They were all hit-it-and-quit-it types. You deserved someone who would date you and appreciate you. Obviously, if I could discourage them so easily, they weren’t worthy of you. You deserve to be fought for.” His eyebrows furrow. “None of the college guys asked you out. What about Liam? Has he asked you out?”
“Not seriously, and anyway, I’ve never said yes.” I don’t know why I’m reassuring him. He’s not off my shit list yet. I didn’t want to date any of those guys. They were each cute in their own way, but none of them gave me butterflies the way Logan always has. But it was for me to decide. It wasn’t Logan’s place to stop anything before it even started. If he knew what I deserved, then why didn’t he step up and be that man sooner?
His ability to read my mind is on point tonight because he responds as if I asked the question aloud.
“I was an idiot. I knew those guys weren’t worthy of you. I had opinions on what you deserved, and I didn’t think I fit the bill either. I wanted to sow a few wild oats, and I valued our friendship. I didn’t see how I could have it all—friendship, adventure, a physical relationship—with you.”
I flinch. Hearing that hurts.
Logan reaches out for my hand again, remorse in his expression. “Chalk it up to being young and dumb, not recognizing you were everything I wanted and needed. Obviously, we still need to figure out details, but I know, together, we can have everything I’ve always wanted. We can have it all.”
I smile, but it feels tight, and I pull my hand away from his, wrapping it around the cool tumbler of iced tea. The icy glass cools my anger and my hand.
I stare at Logan and say with an atypical directness for me, “You were an idiot, but so was I. There’s no reason I couldn’t have told you how I felt or approached guys if I was interested in them.” I stretch out my leg under the table to tap his foot with mine. “We are in the twenty-first century, not a Jane Austen novel. I can go for what I want. I don’t have to wait for a man to decide I’m worthy of his attention.”
I take another sip of my iced tea. If I’d known we were having this type of dinner conversation, I would have opted for the Long Island version. “I accept I was passive in our relationship when I could have approached you to see if you were interested in more, but I was afraid you wouldn’t and then I’d lose your friendship. Or, even worse, what if we tried, and it didn’t work out? I would have lost your friendship, had my heart broken, and been all alone. I’m not sure I was strong enough then to handle that.”
I grab his Guinness and take a sip because I need something stronger than iced tea. Placing the glass back on the table in front of him, I swallow and lick any foam that may be along my top lip. His gaze follows my tongue when it sweeps across my lip. I do it again to mess with him, causing him to take a sip as well, turning the glass so his lips land where mine recently were. Wow, that’s kind of hot.
“Here we go! Bacon cheeseburger.” Steve, the mood killer, places Logan’s burger on the table. “Grilled ham and Swiss on rye for the beautiful lady.” He winks at me as he lowers my plate in front of me. “And a basket of fries for the lovebirds to share.” With his tray now empty, he puts it under his arm and asks if there’s anything else we need. We order refills of our drinks. I’m sticking with my nonalcoholic choice. We can always have a nightcap back at the hotel.
Logan adds ketchup to his burger and grabs the pickle off my plate. I can’t stand pickles, so it’s nice to have a dining companion that will get rid of mine for me. I take a bite of my sandwich and barely suppress a groan. It’s so good.
Both of us have our mouths full when Steve brings our drinks, so we nod our thanks.
Swallowing his bite of burger, Logan conversationally says, “You know, we could always skip the tour and go back to the hotel.”
It’s a tempting idea because our remaining time together is limited, but I want to do more than make out with my boyfriend, Logan, all the time. I want to spend time with my friend Logan too. I know what to expect from friend Logan. He can’t disappoint me. Boyfriend Logan could break my heart, and I’m not sure it can survive another blow.
I shake my head. “We already bought our tickets taking spots someone else could have had, and I want to do the tour. I want to see how they do it. When we’d take tours when I was younger, I’d drive my parents crazy, asking them what their favorite parts were and taking notes on how I’d do it better. I used to write out scripts for tours I’d want to do. One video that got ruined when the basement flooded was me dressed as a tour guide for Halloween and giving a tour of the neighborhood as I trick-or-treated. I was pointing out trees that still had leaves, mentioning which houses put up the best holiday decorations, who had friendly dogs, silly stuff like that.”
“You know our hotel is haunted, right?” Logan smiles. “Maybe we’ll see one tonight.”
I’m working my way through the basket of fries now that I’ve finished my sandwich, and I wave my fry as I answer. “I knew that! Rumor is this restaurant is haunted too. There are quite a few ghosts here on the Washington Street Mall. I have a couple of books about Cape May hauntings. Did you know Ghost Hunters did an episode at the Southern Mansion? Maybe we can stay there the next time we visit.”
“Would you want to give ghost tours?” Logan asks. “I love ghost stories for the historic insights they give. It’s a way for the average person to be known when they didn’t live a life deemed exciting enough for a history textbook.”
I shake my head. “Nah, I’m afraid I’d bring my work home with me.”
His bark of laughter makes me grin. Steve arrives to clear our plates and ask if we’d like anything else, leaving our check when we assure him we’re done. Logan puts cash to cover the check and Steve’s tip in the bill holder, and with a smirk, shows me the check. Steve wrote You’re a lucky man, dude. Have a great night. Standing, Logan puts out a hand to help me rise from the booth.
Holding hands, we exit the restaurant, waving to Steve as we leave.
“We have about half an hour before the tour. Want to window shop on our way to the loading spot?” Logan is swinging our arms while we walk. It’s so carefree, and I love it.
“Yeah, sounds good,” I reply. “We have to get fudge, so we need to pop in there on the way back to the room.”
We stretch the five-minute walk to the trolley pick-up point with window shopping. We decide that after the tour, we’ll check out the selection of mystery jigsaw puzzles in the toy shop. Logan’s parents enjoy assembling jigsaw puzzles together and reading mysteries. Combining them in one activity sounds like a great possible Christmas gift.
The trolley is allowing passengers on when we arrive. We climb aboard and take seats toward the back. The tour guide is very knowledgeable and shares a few spooky tales of hauntings throughout town. I wish the tour was longer. I loved the experience of riding on the trolley through the streets of this beautiful historic town, listening to stories and being snuggled next to Logan. If he comes home, maybe we’ll come back and take more tours. There are several of them closer to Christmas. Or maybe I’ll just take them by myself. Or not.
On our visit to the toy shop, we decide on a Titanic murder mystery jigsaw puzzle for his parents for Christmas. At his suggestion, I cross the Mall to the fudge shop while he waits in line to pay.
“I want chocolate chip and chocolate peanut butter. How about you?” I ask Logan when he joins me, perusing the variety of fudge behind the glass.
“I like plain vanilla. What about Snickers?”
We end up with two pounds of fudge in a variety of flavors. It freezes, so there may be some left when Logan comes home. Or maybe not if I eat my feelings. We get a free box of saltwater taffy, too. There will be some of that for Logan, since I don’t like all the flavors.
Wandering back to the hotel hand in hand, we admire the beautiful houses we pass. Many are bed and breakfasts, but a few are private homes. I can’t imagine what it would be like to live in one of these houses and raise a family. It’s such a vacation destination. It must be weird to be here when the town is quiet.
“I love these Victorians,” I say. “I wonder what it’s like to live in one.”
He considers it. “They are beautiful, but they’re so jammed together, and you have to deal with the summer traffic. I’d rather live in one closer to home. There are beautiful ones along Shore Road that would be stunning with a bit of work. They have yards too. If your heart isn’t set on a Victorian, there are colonial homes in Port, not that they come up for sale often, but we have time. We can be patient.”
I cock my head to the side. “Why would we be house hunting? We have a house.” We’ve reached the hotel and are climbing the stairs to our room. Logan lets go of my hand to remove our room key from his front pocket and unlocks the door. I walk in ahead of him and turn on a few lights.
“It’s not that big of a house. We’ll outgrow it when we have kids.” Logan peers at me like this should be obvious.
When did kids enter the picture? He leaves the day after tomorrow, and we haven’t done any baby-making activities yet, so there’s no possibility of kids anytime soon.
“You want kids, don’t you?” The uncertainty on Logan’s face and in his voice isn’t something I’m used to.
Shrugging, I reply, “I’ve never really thought about it.”
“Really?” He sounds surprised.
“Really. Why plan for a future that probably won’t happen? You know the saying—make plans and God laughs. I’ve learned that lesson well. If I ever get married, I’ll think about it then.”
“If you ever get married?” He’s pacing in front of the windows. “What do you think we’re doing?”
Is this a trick question? “We’ve been together for a week, and you leave the day after tomorrow for a month and a half. We aren’t getting married. We’re barely dating.”
A flash of hurt crosses his face. What is that about?
“I assumed this was a temporary thing while you were here,” I say. “When you came home, we’d see where we were and maybe do it again?”
Right? We’re going to be apart, so how would we keep this going?
“Are you putting a time limit on our relationship?” I’m not used to hearing anger in Logan’s voice. Especially directed at me.
“What? No! I’m just trying to be realistic. You’re gone ten months out of the year, Logan! How am I supposed to make that work?”
“Daphne, why is it realistic to think we’ll not be together forever?”
His question brings me up short. “Nothing lasts forever. My parents didn’t last forever.”
“Oh, Daph.” Logan reaches out and pushes a strand of hair behind my ear and caresses my cheek. Closing my eyes, I press my cheek against his palm, savoring the warmth and wanting to imprint it on my brain to remember when he’s gone. “They’re the textbook definition of forever. They died together. Didn’t live a day apart since they wed.”
I blink back the hot tears that have suddenly gathered in my eyes and pull away. “Okay, nothing lasts forever for me . I don’t get forever. Everyone leaves me, and I get left behind.”
“You know that’s not true, Daphne. Your parents died in a tragic accident. They didn’t choose to leave you. Your grandmother was old and sick. It wasn’t her choice.” Logan tries to embrace me.
I give a harsh laugh and pull away from him. “So, it’s only you that chooses to leave me? You talk about forever, but all you ever do is leave.”
“I’m not leaving you. I’m going to work. I always come back to you. And you aren’t left behind. You choose not to go! I’ve asked you countless times to join me, and you always say no.”
“I have to work too! I need the health insurance my job provides. I need to pay taxes on the house and pay my bills. My savings would only cover me for six months.”
“So come with me for six months! We’ll figure it out.”
I sit on the bed, exhausted. Today was like a dream come true, and now it’s turned into a nightmare.
Logan sits next to me on the bed. I rest my head on his shoulder, and he wraps his arm around me. I don’t want to waste our time together fighting. I want to enjoy this time and have memories to cherish all the days I’m alone.
“I’m always going to come back to you, Daphne,” Logan repeats.
He believes that, but my parents expected to come back home that night too. Every time he leaves, there’s a chance he’s not coming home to me. It doesn’t matter if he chooses to leave me or if something takes him from me, I’ll be alone again.
I don’t want to fight anymore. I want to go to bed, to feel his arms around me and ignore the fact that in less than forty-eight hours, I’ll say goodbye to him.
“Okay,” I say to end this. “Can you hold me, please?” I raise my head to place a kiss on his jaw.
“I want nothing more, sunshine,” Logan says, placing a gentle kiss on my temple. We help each other undress and hold each other under the covers. Even after everything we’ve said tonight, there’s so much left unsaid between us. The ghosts aren’t the only things haunting this room tonight. Logan falls asleep first, and I let the rhythmic sound of his breathing and the soothing beat of his heart under my head pillowed on his chest lull me to sleep.