Chapter Five
I LEANED BACK ON THE blanket and closed my eyes, feeling more settled. I was proud of myself for having a semi-normal conversation with Logan Summers. At least I hadn’t asked him to be my fling. Although I’d had to stop myself from gawking at him in his running shorts and tight athletic T-shirt. Wowzers, was he in fantastic shape.
But it was more than that. There was just something so familiar about him I couldn’t put my finger on. Maybe that was why I had been brave enough to ask him if he wanted to eat dinner with me. It was probably idiotic, given our brief but strange history. But it just felt right.
When I’d gotten home the night before and binged some of the incredible cookies Eden had helped me make, and which I hoped I could recreate on my own, I got to thinking about my mom and why she really wanted me to come to Aspen Lake. Part of me cursed her for it. But then a memory of a song hit me: “Take It to the Limit.”
That song held a lot of meaning for Mom and me. I was so inspired that I recorded a new podcast episode last night, edited it, and uploaded it. I’d been awake until the wee hours of the morning, but it was worth the lost sleep. That song and my mom’s accompanying advice had made me realize I wasn’t living my best life. I’d known that for a long time but was too afraid to do anything about it. Mom had known too. Even as sick as she was, she’d always known. So, she’d done what she always did for me and gave me a nudge in the right direction. Or maybe in this case a big push. It was a push I’d needed .
So, I decided last night I was going to take life to the limit, even if that meant talking to my insanely attractive neighbor. I was going to fulfill my summer bucket list to the best of my ability and learn why Mom thought Aspen Lake was so magical. I thought I would start by spending a few hours by the lake listening to some of Mom’s and my favorite songs while enjoying the evening sun and the gentle lapping of the water.
And now there I was, on the shore, “Dream On” playing on one of Mom’s old mixtapes. She thought mixtapes were the best way to listen to music because you had to work for it. None of those instant downloads for her.
And for a minute, I thought I was dreaming when I heard Logan say, “Is your dinner invitation still open?”
I sat up, and my eyes flew open to see Logan standing there wearing some form-fitting jeans and what looked like an old college sweatshirt, holding a high-tech telescope with a large tripod and shuffling his feet. The sun had set and only a shred of light appeared over the horizon.
“Uh, yeah,” I said, shocked. “Of course. Sure.” How many ways could I say yes?
“Great,” he said, relieved. “I was just thinking that your telescope didn’t look all that powerful.”
“Oh, I just ordered it online. I wasn’t sure what to get.”
“I have a good friend who’s an astronomer, and he recommended this one.”
“That’s fun. Is there an observatory around here?”
Logan adjusted the tripod and set it on the beach. “No. He’s from Seattle. That’s where I moved from. My wife and I lived there.” His voice hitched when he said wife . Poor man.
“Eden mentioned you lost your wife last year. I’m so sorry.”
He grimaced.
“I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“It’s not your fault. My sister means well. I think she believes I should talk about Erica more and be more sociable.”
“Did Eden make you accept my invite?” I surmised, not able to come up with another reason for his reappearance. I wasn’t exactly buying the telescope angle. In fact, I’d kind of gotten the feeling the night before that Eden believed I should be sociable with Logan too.
Logan chuckled. “She might have had something to do with it.”
“That’s what I thought.” I smiled, even though part of me was hoping he’d come back because he wanted to spend time with me.
“That sounded terrible. It’s not that I didn’t want to come back out here. It’s just I’m ...,” he trailed off, running a hand through his thick, gorgeous ash blond hair.
“You’re grieving.” I filled in the blank.
“Yes,” he said, relieved, like he was happy to get that off his chest. “And given all our strange interactions so far, I feel like I can say this to you. I’m not looking for ...” He cleared his throat, apparently not able to say it out loud.
I helped him out again. “You’re not looking for a fling.”
“Exactly. Or any kind of romantic entanglement right now.”
Romantic entanglement sounded good to me. It had been a long time since I’d been tangled up with anyone, and did I ever miss it. But despite how beautiful the doctor was, I certainly wasn’t looking to impede on a grieving widower’s time of mourning. Or to throw myself at him. Although maybe technically I already had. But that had been a horrible case of nerves talking.
“So, what are you looking for?”
He thought for a moment, consternation evident in the rising and falling of his shoulders and the way he stared out at the dark lake that reflected the night sky. He finally settled on, “Happiness, or at the very least, solace.”
I pulled my legs up and wrapped my arms around them, searching for the right thing to say. Mom would know. With that thought, her words came to me. “My mom used to say, ‘The only way to get through grief is to do it out loud.’ ”
Logan tilted his head. “I’m not following.”
“I think what she meant was, don’t keep it in. Talk or yell about it. Have dinner with your crazy new neighbor and tell her all about your wife. I don’t know. Just don’t keep it inside. Share it with the people around you and let them carry some of the grief with you. ”
Logan smiled. “Is that how you’re coping with the loss of your mom?”
“I’m not much of a yeller, but I am a word vomiter. I find it helps unless you come on to your ER doctor and then he ends up being your neighbor. Now, I’ll have to grieve that embarrassment.” I cringed. Oh, I’d already told Claire all about it, trying to let some of the hot shame go. She’d laughed uncontrollably, which had made me giggle, so it kind of helped. But no doubt it would haunt me for years to come.
“We’ll pretend that never happened,” Logan said, presumably trying to console me.
“Yeah, I wish it were that easy. I might need some shock therapy.” I grinned.
“I know where we can get some electrodes,” he teased.
“Look at you. You have a sense of humor.”
“I did, once upon a time,” he sighed.
I patted a spot next to me on the blanket. “Well, let’s help you find it again.”
He pressed his lips together and mulled over the invitation.
“I wasn’t coming on to you. You don’t have to sit right next to me on the blanket. There’s plenty of room.”
“Yeah, of course,” he said, like he still wasn’t sure about my motivations.
To be honest, I wasn’t even sure what I was doing. This wasn’t like me. It was like Mom had taken over and her words were coming out of my mouth. Not that I didn’t want to help Logan. But I wasn’t sure I was qualified, and I seemed like an unlikely candidate considering our fateful meet so-not-cute. As ugly as it gets, in fact. Yet there was something about him. Like I was supposed to know him. Maybe he was the lifelong friend I was supposed to make this summer. I could be friends with an insanely attractive doctor, right? Why not?
After all, I was supposed to help someone every day. Maybe Logan was part of that. Or maybe I was just delusional. That was probably it.
Logan tentatively crept over and lowered himself ever so slowly onto the blanket, as far away from me as he could get. He kept his eyes on me the entire time, like he was afraid I might pounce.
I had to stifle my giggle. I’d never had a man be so afraid of me. Not that I hadn’t given this particular man reasons to be cautious around me. But he had nothing to fear. I wouldn’t make a move on him again, on purpose or accidentally.
“Are you hungry?” I asked, pulling the picnic basket toward me.
“Famished, actually.”
“Then you came to the right spot.” I purposely didn’t smile at him, feeling like it might appear flirty. This was a no-flirtation zone. Logan had set the boundaries, and I would adhere to them with precision. I unpacked the food, starting with the peach cobbler. “Are you an eat-your-dessert-first kind of person?”
“No. Actually, I try not to eat dessert.”
“What? Are you serious? And you’re related to Eden, the queen of desserts?”
“When you see the damage sugar can do to a person’s health, it’s not as tempting.”
“Well, I’m glad I’m not a doctor, then.” And glad we wouldn’t be having a fling. I wasn’t sure I could be with someone who didn’t like dessert.
“Erica would say the same thing sometimes while shoving her face full of chocolate.”
“Erica is your wife?” I asked delicately. I thought I remembered Eden mentioning her name, but I wanted to tread carefully.
“Yes,” he said reverently.
“She sounds like my kind of woman.” I handed him the delectable-looking turkey-and-cranberry sandwich on multigrain bread. “Is this more to your liking, Dr. Summers?”
“This is actually one of my favorite sandwiches.”
“Then it’s all yours.” I took the ham and Swiss on a croissant for myself. I also unpacked the cut-up fruits and veggies I’d ordered.
Logan held up the sandwich. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” My mom’s voice kicked in again, and I said, “So, tell me how you met Erica.”
Logan’s brow raised, but he didn’t seem upset by the question. “Oddly enough, one of my ex-girlfriends introduced us.”
“Really?” I grabbed a grape and popped it in my mouth.
Logan unwrapped his sandwich. “Charlee and I dated in med school, and we parted on good terms. We both knew we were better off as friends. But she thought Erica and I would be good together. She wasn’t wrong.”
“Wow. You must have been a good boyfriend. I’m not sure I would’ve ever wanted one of my friends to date one of my exes. Not because they were bad guys, but I wouldn’t want to see them so happy with another woman.” I smiled.
“Well, Charlee was interesting. I think she cared more about beating my test scores than she did about me. Which was a great motivator for me.”
“Did she beat you?”
“Occasionally,” he reluctantly admitted.
“Where did you go to med school?” I asked.
“Stanford.”
“Whoa. So, you’re smart.”
He shrugged, but he couldn’t hide the way the corners of his lips ticked up.
“Did Erica go to Stanford?”
He nodded.
Suddenly, I was feeling a little inadequate. I graduated from a community college with an associate’s degree in communications. I’d started working for the radio station during my senior year in high school. Honestly, I’d always thought my mom was my greatest teacher in life and in music. Not to say I didn’t get good grades, but I was more focused on taking care of Mom. She’d gotten sick when I was in junior high; she’d had a couple of bouts of remission, but they never lasted.
“Was it love at first sight?” I asked.
“I don’t believe in love at first sight—”
“That’s sad,” I interrupted him.
“Why?” he questioned.
“I don’t know. It just seems like you might miss out on something with that attitude.”
“Have you fallen in love at first sight?” He didn’t hide his skepticism.
“No, but I believe it’s possible.” I mean, one look at Robert Pattinson when I was thirteen had me thinking I was in love with him. But I never got to test that theory out in real life.
“Why?” He took a bite of his sandwich and slowly chewed.
“Because love is magical.”
He gave me that look again, the one that said he thought I might be crazy, while he swallowed. “Erica and I took a more pragmatic approach to love.”
“If that works for you, that’s great.” If I hadn’t already known Logan wouldn’t be my summer fling, his thoughts on love had just cemented it. It wasn’t that I believed love was all sunshine and unicorns. I knew there were some aspects of love that you had to look at practically. But I wanted someone who was willing, if needed, to look past all the reasons it might not work and still be so crazy about me that we’d find a way together. Mom would say that if we let it, love can make the impossible possible. And she hadn’t been talking solely about romantic love.
“It was great. There were no games, no guessing, no misunderstandings.”
“Never. Not even one?”
“No.”
“You never argued. Not even about where to eat?” I couldn’t believe that. It wasn’t like I thought couples should argue, per se, but making up could be a lot of fun. And never disagreeing sounded kind of boring.
“We had a system to choose where we ate out. If it was an odd day, I got to pick, and she picked on even days.”
I sat there, so confused. Half the time, I didn’t even know what I was in the mood for. Case in point: I’d bought three meals and dessert that night. What if it was my day to choose and I couldn’t, or what if my partner picked something I detested? Or what if I had PMS and was grumpy and maybe I said some things I didn’t really mean? It had happened before. I wasn’t proud of it, but hormones are no joke.
“You never disagreed?” I just couldn’t believe it.
“No. Not really. Our biggest disagreement, if you could call it that, was we didn’t necessarily like the same types of house decor, but I wanted her to be happy, so I always let her choose.”
This was too much for me to take in. I was so glad Logan hadn’t agreed to have a fling with me. There was no competing with the relationship he had with his wife. No wonder he was grieving so hard.
“Erica sounds perfect.”
“She was about as perfect as they come,” he said wistfully.
Back in my teen years, when I’d been super self-conscious about my body and had wanted to look like the models and actresses in magazines and on TV, Mom used to say, “Never try to compete against perfection, because even though it doesn’t exist, you’ll still lose.”
I’d taken that lesson to heart, which was why I would never, ever try to compete with the likes of Erica. I would for sure lose—from the sound of it, any woman would. And this summer was about winning. I wasn’t sure what I was going to win, but I knew Mom wanted this summer to be a gift. So, I was going to make the most of it and claim my prize in the end. A prize I knew now more than ever didn’t include my sexy neighbor.