24. Logan
24
LOGAN
I’m rarely a big fan of Monday mornings, but this one inspires a special kind of loathing. I leave today, and I dread going. I’m in our bedroom, putting the last of my clothes in my bag.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to ask Liam to take me to the airport or hire a car?”
I need to be at the international airport in Philly in four hours for my late afternoon flight to Madrid. I’ll arrive in Spain early tomorrow morning. I regret not adjusting my schedule so that I had more time here with Daphne. I didn’t expect it to be so hard to leave her. Truth be told, I didn’t expect to be leaving her behind. I thought she would join me. I should’ve known she wouldn’t drop everything and run away with me. Usually, I appreciate her steadiness, but now it’s just something else keeping us apart.
“Hush. I want to spend every moment possible with you before you leave. I’m taking you to the airport. That’s why I took today off,” she scolds me.
We woke in each other’s arms Sunday morning and ignored our heated words from the night before. We need to talk about our future, and I need to know that we’re on the same page, but I don’t want to ruin the little time we have left by upsetting Daphne again. I didn’t realize how deeply the deaths of her parents and grandmother had affected her. I knew she was sad, and I knew she missed them, of course, but I didn’t realize how abandoned she felt.
I don’t know how to reassure her. I can’t stay. I need to work. If she wanted to be together, she could come with me.
“Is that the mail truck?” I ask, trying to get Daphne out of the bedroom. Wow, never thought I’d think that thought.
“I’ll go check,” she says, starting down the hallway. I put the necklace I purchased at the gift shop at Sunset Beach under Daph’s pillow. I daydream about her finding it there at bedtime. I’ve left a few of my shirts behind, unsaid messages that I’m coming back, that even when I’m gone, I want her wrapped up in me. The shirts mark her as mine when she thinks there is no us. Especially then.
I snagged the tank top she wore to bed last night. I’m not going to wear it. A man wearing a woman’s shirt is nowhere near as sexy as a woman wearing a man’s shirt. Plus, my abs are too ripped to pull off the Winnie-the-Pooh style effectively. I’d need more of a belly to give the proper vibe. Anyway, the shirt is for cuddling purposes. I also packed a little bottle full of Daphne’s shampoo, so I can sniff it when I’m missing her. That’s not weird. Okay, it is weird, but it won’t get me strange attention from the TSA agents like a pair of her panties would. Of course, I’m sure they’ve seen it all. Panties in my luggage probably wouldn’t earn me any raised eyebrows.
I come up behind Daphne where she’s standing at the counter going through the mail, wrap my arms around her waist, and rest my chin on her shoulder, nuzzling behind her ear and chuckling when she shivers. That’s one spot I can always elicit a response from with proper attention.
“Anything interesting?” I ask, seeing the mail pile.
“You got an envelope, but other than that, it’s junk,” she replies, passing me an envelope over her shoulder. I don’t recognize the New York City return address, so it can’t be anything too important. I put it on the counter and resume nuzzling Daphne.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” she asks. She turns in my embrace so we’re facing each other.
I press a soft kiss to her lips. All I want to do is spend our remaining time together kissing and holding her, but we must show restraint. I don’t need to be going through security with a prominent hard-on. If we continue this way, that will be the situation.
I pull back from our kiss. “I’ll open it later. I’m sure it’s nothing important.” My stomach growls. “What do you want to do for lunch? We can stop somewhere to eat on the way to the airport, or we can make sandwiches and hang out here a bit longer.”
Our best plan is to head out because the longer we stay here, the more difficult it will be for me to leave when it’s time. This little house has become my home this past week. Yeah, I’ve lived here before, but it’s been the place I stayed between jobs. It’s not been my home until now.
My home is wherever Daphne is.
Daphne presses her lips together. “We’ve got leftovers, but”—she heaves a tremendous sigh and looks away from me—“let’s just go.” She must know what I do—we can’t start saying goodbye until we leave, and the longer we stay, the harder it will be.
“Let’s eat on the way. If we stay here, there’s a chance I’ll seduce you and tie you to the bed,” she jokes.
It’s on the tip of the tongue to tell her if she seduces me, I’d stay forever, but I don’t want her to think I’m leaving because we haven’t had sex yet. I’m not an asshole like that. Instead, I laugh, knowing she’s messing around.
“Honey, I’m up—literally and figuratively—for tying each other to the bed, and I’m willing to be the first one tied up because I’m a giver like that.”
Okay, Logan, stop thinking about bondage because it’s going to be a hellacious flight if you can’t lower the tray table because your cock is hard and in the way.
While Daphne dresses, I double-check my bags to ensure I have my passport and other documents in order. I snag the envelope that came in today’s mail and slip it in the pocket of my carry-on. I’ll read it eventually. I need to check a bag for my clothing and camera accessories like tripods, flashes, and lenses, but the important things like my camera bodies, the most expensive lenses, a flash, memory cards, and my laptop go in my carry-on bags. I don’t let them out of my sight. It’s much easier to buy new underwear than replace thousands of dollars worth of gear. Everything is in order like I expected it to be. I’ve packed my belongings so often it’s more or less muscle memory at this point.
Gorgeous in her jeans and purple sweater, Daph emerges from our bedroom. “Ready to go?”
No, I’m not.
“Yeah, I have everything. Let’s go,” I say instead as I grab my bags, glancing around the living room at the couch where we’ve spent the past week cuddling, and follow Daphne out the front door, making sure the lock has engaged. The next time I come home, the pots of brightly colored mums we bought for the porch will be dead and gone. I miss them already.
I’m missing pots of flowers. It’s ridiculous. I’ve seen the tulip fields of the Netherlands, visited beautiful gardens of grand homes, explored tropical rain forests, and I’m lamenting pots of chrysanthemums.
Climbing in the driver’s seat of Daphne’s Escape after putting my bags in the back, I ask about lunch. “Want to stop for burgers at the place on 42?”
There’s a 1950s-themed restaurant on a road we can take to the airport. Most of the time we’d take the Atlantic City Expressway since it’s faster, but I’m not in a hurry to get to the airport, and this way we can stop for lunch.
“Sure, sounds good. I haven’t been there in forever.” My girl puts a brave smile on her face. “It’s a shame we won’t have time for the arcade. I guess that means we’ll have to go back.”
She’s doing her absolute best to be cheery and make it easy for me to leave. She knows if I know she’s upset, it will gut me. However, the forced cheeriness is twisting a knife in my stomach all the same. Leaving has never been this difficult before. I always miss Daphne when I go, but my eagerness to be off on my next adventure usually tips the scales in favor of leaving. That’s not the case this time. For the first time, I feel apathetic over my departure, and if I was being honest with myself, I’d admit what I’m really feeling is dread.
We pull into the restaurant parking lot. It’s been years since we’ve eaten here, and I hope it’s as good as I remember. Well, years since I’ve eaten here. For all I know, Daphne comes here all the time. Without me.
I recognize the hypocrisy of moping over things Daphne has done in our places without me while I’ve been off traveling the world. It doesn’t help ease the ache though.
“It doesn’t seem like anything has changed,” I say, holding the door for her. This place is cool. It resembles an old 1950s diner like from Happy Days , with mini jukeboxes at each booth. The female servers wear pedal pushers or poodle skirts, and the male servers wear cuffed jeans and white T-shirts, channeling The Fonz. The burgers and fries are incredible, and they have a soda fountain where you can order all kinds of exotically flavored sodas, ice cream floats, and milkshakes. There’s an arcade attached full of video games and boardwalk games like Skee-Ball. Sometimes in college, we’d come with rolls of quarters and spend the entire afternoon playing games and goofing off, giving our stash of tickets to a kid so they could cash them in for prizes. Those were wonderful days.
“Hey, hon, you can sit wherever you want. I’ll bring over menus,” the waitress calls out to Daphne as we enter.
“Thanks,” Daph responds. “Booth by the window?”
Nodding, I follow her to the booth, unable to resist resting my hand on Daph’s lower back as we walk over. I don’t want to pass up any opportunity to touch her. She must feel the same way because instead of sitting across from each other like we usually do, she grabs my hand and pulls me to sit beside her. I wrap my arm around her shoulders as our waitress comes over with menus and two glasses of water.
“She waited on us last time, didn’t she?” It is obvious Daphne is on the same wavelength as I am.
“I think so. I remember the eyeglasses.” I read over the menu even though I already know what I’m getting. “What sounds good to you?”
“Other than you?” With a cheeky grin, Daphne leans in to kiss me. “I’m thinking about the double cheeseburger. Want to split an order of cheese fries?”
That sounds good. I nod my agreement when our waitress, Marcia, approaches our table.
“Ready to order?” Marcia asks, pad in hand.
“I love your glasses!” Daphne enthuses, smiling up at her.
“Thanks, hon!” They are cute, pink cat-eye shaped with rhinestones in the corner. Very kitschy, but it fits the vibe of the place.
“I’ll go first.” Daphne places her order. After I give my order and Marcia walks away, Daph taps our menus on the table and puts them back in the holder.
Stretching my arm along the back of the booth, Daphne snuggles into my side, placing her hand on my thigh. I press a kiss to her temple and sigh. We haven’t spoken much since we got in the car, and there’s so much to say. I think we’re afraid of getting emotional and making our parting even more difficult, so we’re choosing to remain silent instead. I’m fearful that if I express any reluctance or doubt about leaving, Daphne will ask me to stay, and I’ll be in the position of having to tell her no.
Not that she has any problem telling me no when I ask her to come with me. Okay, that sounded bitter. I understand why she says no. I don’t like it, but I understand it. I’m not wasting our limited time together on bitterness. That’s what my flight to Madrid is for.
Technically, I could cancel this trip and stay here. I’m a freelancer, and I’m not under contract with anyone. However, I know the events I’m attending create the shots that sell well. My plan is to shop my photos around to some publications and websites I’ve worked with before and also use some images to bolster my stock photo catalog.
I need to spend my downtime on this trip to investigate more of the business side of things and how I can create a passive income with shots I’ve already taken, so I’m able to adjust my travel schedule. I can’t travel ten months of the year and maintain a relationship. If I show I’m willing to sacrifice, then maybe Daphne will be comfortable joining me. She’s right. I blindsided her, showing up out of nowhere and asking her to drop everything and run away with me. My life would be easier if she had. But I hadn’t realized then how deep her issues go.
“It will be okay, Logan.” Daphne squeezes my thigh. “We’re best friends. I know you. You must go because you have things planned. It’s okay. But we need to figure things out. If we’re dating, I don’t want to spend long stretches of time apart beyond this.”
I’m aware she doesn’t have paranormal gifts, but, in this moment, I swear she’s a mind reader.
She sighs. “We both need to compromise. I need to figure out how to do that. It’s difficult for me.”
I take a deep breath. “I’m aware we have a lot to work out but didn’t address this week. We’ll spend the next weeks figuring out a game plan that works for both of us. It’ll be okay.” That last part is more to reassure me than her.
“Here we go!” Marcia announces, placing our burgers and a basket of fries before us. “Ketchup and napkins are there.” She juts her chin toward the caddy near the window. “Do you need anything else at the moment?”
“We’re good,” I say, smiling at her.
Daphne hands me the ketchup and a few extra napkins so I can doctor my burger. There’s that happy groan again when Daph takes her first bite of burger. I need to get a recording of it so I can make it a ringtone on my phone. Or play it on a continuous loop while I imagine how wonderful it will be to finally be with Daphne completely, body and soul.
Lunch was delicious, as expected, and much sooner than I’d like, we’re back in the car, headed to the airport. It’s crazy how one week has changed my life and my plans for it. I don’t know what I expected. That I’d come home, make her mine, and then take off again without it breaking my heart if I had to leave her behind?
God, I’m an idiot.
“I think this is the fastest I’ve gotten to this airport,” I say, pulling up in front of the terminal for my airline. The traffic gods can suck it.
Putting the car in park and turning off the engine, I turn to Daphne. She’s so beautiful with the loving smile she gives as she reaches for her door handle. I’m tempted to hit the lock so we remain trapped in here and I can’t leave. But I don’t. I check for traffic and then exit to meet Daphne at the back with the open hatch.
I take her in my arms. “Daph, this is going to be hard, and I know we’re going to miss each other. You’re worried about me. I’m worried about you. This is going to suck. But it’s six weeks. It’s not forever.”
I’m saying this just as much, if not more, for me as I am for her. It’s not working. Six weeks feels like forever.
She takes a deep breath, but she’s not fooling me. She’s putting on a brave face to make this easier on me.
“You’re going to these amazing places and will take incredible pictures, pictures so wonderful there are going to be people clamoring to buy them and license them. You’re going to tell me all about what you see and experience when we FaceTime like we always do. It’s going to be okay.”
Her arms wrap around my torso, and she buries her head against my chest as my arms encircle her. I don’t want to let go, but after a few moments, I do. This will be okay. Releasing Daphne and stepping back, I tuck a strand of her dark brown hair behind her ear and caress her cheek.
“Sunshine, you are incredible. I’m so lucky you’re my girl.”
Resting her palm on my cheek, she smiles. “You are so lucky, but so am I. Now you’re going to have to go check in and get through security before they bug us to move the car. I don’t want our goodbye to be under the disapproving view of airport security.”
Handing the keys to Daphne, I grab my suitcase, carry-on, and backpack from the back of the Escape and close the lift gate. With my baggage taken care of, I can give my girl the embrace she deserves. She lifts her lips to meet mine, wrapping her arms around my neck, and tunnels her fingers in my hair. Deepening our kiss, I stroke my tongue against hers and try to convey the love and desire I feel for her. I could do this forever, but I’m mindful of our limited time and the impending presence of airport security telling us to move along. Reluctantly, I pull back and gaze deeply into the face that owns my heart.
“I’m going to miss you, Daphne Foster, and you better be ready for me when I get home. Six weeks. Rest up.”
Giggling, Daphne rests her hand on my heart and gives it a pat.
“You worry about yourself, Logan Morris. You better stay in shape these next six weeks. No getting all flabby with all the delicious food you’re going to have. I have plans for you when you get home. I’ll miss you too. We’ll be okay.”
With a grin and a flirtatious wiggle of her brows, she steps out of my arms and waits for a car to pass so she can get behind the wheel. I stand on the curb and motion for her to lower the window.
“Drive safely, Daphne. Six weeks. Forty-two days. Get ready.”
“Get inside, Logan. The sooner you leave, the sooner you’ll be home.”
She blows me a kiss, and like a goof, I catch it and pretend to tuck it in my pocket. With a last wave, she pulls away from the curb and into the stream of traffic. I watch her go until I can’t see her any longer. I want to tell her to come back. But what for? If she came back, I don’t know if I’d tell her I love her, beg her to come with me, or something else, but I regret we left so much unsaid in our short time together.
With a frustrated sigh, I turn to enter the terminal and reluctantly start my journey.