28. Paris
Paris
Seattle, Washington
I’ve been in Seattle for three months and I’ve settled into a routine.
Every once in a while, I go out for drinks after work with some of my colleagues, but mostly I go to work and come home.
I’ve even been asked out on a few dates but have politely declined.
I just can’t bring myself to open up my heart to anyone else.
I love Seattle. The food, the people, the atmosphere, and I absolutely love my job.
The only thing I miss from my old life in Oakland is him.
His laugh, the way he made my body feel when inside of me, and the fire that consumes me with just one look he throws my way.
The connection we’ve shared is a once in a lifetime experience.
But when my mind strays to him, I try to remember this is my new life and I need to embrace it.
I’ve had very little contact with Logan since moving.
Other than a few texts here and there, it’s been basically radio silence.
While I know I love him, the fear of telling him how I feel kept me from saying those three little words because while I had been ready to move forward with him, he isn’t.
Something holds him back, and if he isn’t ready to let go of it, I refuse to stop my life for him to catch up with me.
I believe if things are supposed to happen between us it will when the time is right.
And if it doesn’t, I can say he’s the one who gave me back a piece of myself Nikita stole. I’ll always love him for that.
Either way, moving to Seattle and establishing a new life far away from Oakland and the terrible memories of Nikita has been the best thing I’ve ever done for myself. Nobody judges me or pities me because no one knows anything I’ve been forced to do.
It’s true freedom.
Work has been very eventful today. I’m tired.
I’ve been on my feet most of the day because the owner of BH Cyber Securities will be in the office this week for his yearly walkthrough.
Everyone has been running around like a chicken with their heads cut off.
I’m definitely looking forward to a night in front of the tv, and the leftovers I ordered last night from what has become my favorite restaurant.
I barely have time to reach for my towel before the jarring ring of my doorbell pierces the air. I groan as I reach for the white fluffy bath robe hanging on the hook on the back of the door.
Except for the occasional neighbor from down the hall dropping off my mail, mistakenly placed in their box, I don’t ever have visitors.
As I hurry from my bedroom, down the long hallway, and into the living area, the doorbell rings again, its insistent chime echoing through the apartment.
“I’m coming!”
My cozy one bedroom, one and a half bath apartment is located in a safe, but not extravagant neighborhood. With the first month’s rent and utilities paid for by BH Cyber Securities, I’ve been able to save up and add some personal touches to the place to make it my own.
The living room is warm, with creamy beige walls and dark hardwood floors.
The furnishings have been kept to a minimum, a simple cream-colored couch and a small armchair facing each other, with a glass coffee table between them.
I’ve added some yellow throw pillows, and candle centerpiece to the coffee table to make the space more lived in and less show house.
Off to the left of the living area is a compact kitchen with bright yellow walls and windows that brighten up the space.
The kitchen has dark hardwood floors, matching the living room, simple countertops, and standard appliances—all ready for upgrades in the future—plus a small pantry and white cabinets with plenty of storage.
The place isn’t excessive, but practical, and it’s all mine.
When I reach the door and open it, I’m fully expecting to see one of my neighbors returning some of my mail.
But the moment my brain registers the person in front of me everything else fades to the background.
A mix of excitement and relief courses through me as my heart beats wildly against my chest.
“Logan?”
With a thud, his heavy black duffel bag hits the ground.
When he takes a step forward, I jump into his arms, my legs wrapping around his waist, feeling the warmth of his body against mine.
His deep laughter, a sound like warm honey and rumbling thunder, echoes through my entire body, as I grip him tighter, terrified this is all a dream.
“You miss me?”
Overwhelmed with his words, they hit me straight in my gut and a sob I can’t hold back rips through me. With my head in the crook of his neck, I inhale his scent making sure to imprint it on my soul just in case I’m going crazy or he’s here to say goodbye to me forever.
“Shh, baby. It’s alright.”
His words, though soft, do little to calm the frantic beating of my heart. All I can think about is the man I love is here in Seattle hundreds of miles from Oakland.
“You’re here,” The words are barely audible above my own tears. “I can’t believe you’re really here.”
“I am, sweetheart. But let’s go inside before the neighbors get an eye full when I slip inside you.”
I can’t help but laugh as I reluctantly slide down his body. He grabs his duffel bag from the floor and follows me inside. I close the door behind him.
So, he’s here to stay for a while at least.
I take his duffel bag, the weight of it heavy in my hand, and walk toward my bedroom. His heavy footfalls echo behind me off the polished hardwood floors.
“This place is nice.”
I chuckle. “It is, but not as nice as that million-dollar condo of yours.”
“It doesn’t matter the price of the place, Paris. This place looks like a home, mine looked more like a showroom. Impersonal. I like this a lot better.”
I look over my shoulder and smile as we enter my bedroom. “I’m glad you like it. I’ve been trying to make it my own, since it came furnished.”
My bedroom has dark hardwood floors too and is spacious enough for just a queen-sized bed, dresser, and a small chaise that sits in front of double windows.
The light beige walls are accented with crisp white crown molding, creating a bright and airy feel.
Attached to my bedroom is a simple full bath with a standalone shower, modest bathtub, and simple white tiled floors. Not extravagant, but perfect for me.
“I can’t believe you’re here.”
After placing the duffel bag inside my walk-in closet, I face him, but the intensity in his eyes freezes me in place.
“I wanted to surprise you, so I hopped on my bike.”
“You drove your motorcycle?” He nods, a wide grin splitting his face as a chuckle rumbles inside his chest. “From Oakland?”
“I did.” He walks up to me, his touch gentle as his knuckles graze my cheek, then trace the line of my jaw. “I’ll drive to the ends of the Earth to see you, Paris”
What the hell does a girl say to that? The man I love rode a motorcycle over eight hundred miles to surprise me.
“I love you, Paris.”
My breath hitches, another sob rising in my throat as his face blurs. His thumb traces my lips, then he grips my chin between his two fingers.
“I’m sorry it took a while for me to say it, but it’s true.
I just needed to let go of a few things before I could move forward.
I’ve taken all this time to do the work to make sure I’m in the right mindset to be the person you need me to be.
So, I’ve come to lay my soul bare and then you can decide if you want me in your life. ”
He gently pulls me toward my bed and we both sit together on the edge. He intertwines our fingers. My heart is pounding inside my chest so hard. I’m nervous to hear what he has to say.
“So, to know who I am, I guess you need to know who I used to be,” he says, sighing. “I’ve always had this voice in my head pushing me to do things.”
“What kind of things?”
“Unthinkable things. I need you to remember, I’m not the good guy, sweetheart. But I’ll do everything I need to do to keep you in my life. You remember asking me once what my tattoos meant?”
“Yeah.”
I remember that day like every other day I’ve spent with him. I’m sure both tattoos have very significant meanings to him and I’m glad he’s opening up now.
“Well, they make sure I never forget the two versions of who I am. The dark and the light. The killer and the lover. Over the years I’ve been able to tame it mainly by fighting.”
“So, that’s why you were at the underground fights? To help?”
“Yes. When I met Blake, she changed my world.”
The pain in his eyes shifts and a small smile crosses his face. A dead woman shouldn’t make me jealous, but it’s hard not to be when his thoughts of her changes his entire attitude.
“How long were you together?”
“Not long.” He sighs. “She was diagnosed with cancer. But that time with her before and after she was sick was magical. She taught me a lot about living, a lot about dying, and a lot about myself. She gave me a lot of peace I didn’t have until you, that is.”
“The tulips?”
It dawns on me the tulips tattooed on his body represent her, the best part of him—the lover.
“That was her favorite flower, and when I got it, it represented her. But it evolved from just representing her. It represents what is good about me. A reminder that despite the darkness, there’s something else there, too.”
“And the ravens?”
He looks in my eyes. “The lives I’ve taken.”
He looks like he’s waiting for a reaction out of me, but I don’t have any.
Things have changed since I was with Nikita.
I don’t look at things as black and white anymore.
I’ve tried to kill a man, that doesn’t make me an evil person.
Even though I don’t know the circumstances behind the deaths of these people, Logan isn’t anything like Nikita. And everyone has a dark side, even me.
“Can you tell me about her?”
He sighs, planting his forearms on his thighs.
“She made me laugh, cry, was quick with her tongue. She always believed we had one shot at life. And while we’re here, we have to live life to the fullest. It’s something she repeated over and over after she got sick.
And when she died, I just stopped living because if someone so good, if someone who represented the best of us didn’t get to live, why should I?
I thought if she wasn’t here, why should I be happy without her. ”
“You know if she loved you, she wouldn’t want that for you, Logan. She would want you to be happy even if she isn’t here with you.”
He releases a breath. “I understand that now. And for a long time, I didn’t believe I could be happy without her.
I pushed you away not because I didn’t love you, Paris.
Not because I didn’t think you could make me happy.
I wanted to give you the chance to experience life free from everything and everybody.
You deserved that and more. I wasn’t going stand in the way of that. ”
“And what do you want now, Logan?”
“I want you,” he says without hesitation. I believe him but that’s not the answer I’m looking for. He wants me, and I want him, we’ve established that, but that’s not going to make this relationship work by itself.
“But what do you really want?”
He looks at me for a moment like he doesn’t understand my question. Of course I want him to want me, but above anything else I want him to be happy. If I’m what makes him happy, then I’m all in. If I’m not, even though it will hurt more than anything, I want him to find happiness with someone else.
“I want to be happy, Paris. You are my happiness.”