Chapter 23
Logan
Logan slumped onto his couch ten minutes later and put his head in his hands.
Seeing Bellini was killing him.
She was still the same, yet deeply different.
He’d laughed when he’d heard about her dumping lettuce over the head of that ridiculous woman.
Bellini was artistic, accepting of others, insightful with endless empathy, and yet, she had a temper.
It usually came out only when she thought someone was being treated unfairly or unkindly.
He’d seen this happen when they were in school, too, when a kid was being bullied.
Bellini had her own thriving writing career, and yet, she’d come home to run the bar for at least ten hours a day for her mother. She wasn’t perfect—she didn’t try to be. She was simply, always, herself. There was no “show” with Bellini.
When they were together, she loved to talk and hold his hand and discuss all subjects under the sun.
Bellini made him feel loved. She made him feel important, special, wanted.
She made him feel like he could be someone of worth.
She listened to him. She complimented him and made him feel like a man. She was always on his side.
He had always thought they would be married.
When he’d announced in second grade for show-and-share that they were going to get married, he’d meant it.
That their friends and her cousins had raised their hands quickly to volunteer to be the “ring bear” and the “best friend” and the “good maid” and the “flower boy” was still funny to him.
He’d thought by this time they’d have a bunch of kids running around.
He’d thought they’d live in the country, on his mother’s peaceful land, but away from his father.
He’d be an architect, she’d write children’s books, and they’d be super busy raising kids and making love by the lake on their property, or in the meadow, or upstairs in their bedroom.
Dreams didn’t come true. He knew that.
At least for him they didn’t. He tried not to be bitter; he did. It was hard, though. He did not think he would marry. He did not think he would have children. It would not be fair to any woman to marry her when he knew he wanted to be with Bellini.
He went to his windows and glared out at the darkened Swan Mountains. There was no answer for him there—none. He stopped, positive he heard bells ringing and the first lines of the song “Jingle Bells.” Maybe someone outside?
For some reason, at that moment, he longed to be on his mother’s land.
He wanted to ride a horse, or get on a snowmobile, or hike.
He loved that land. It was endlessly beautiful, like Bellini.
His mother had loved Bellini. When he’d told her what he’d said during show-and-share, she’d smiled at him—she had not laughed—and said, “I think you and Bellini would make a lovely couple.”
Logan did not want to go to bed alone, so he slept on the couch.
It wasn’t any better.