Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Logan
My fifteen days are up, my arm has rehabbed, I’ve learned how to keep my wrist locked, and I am firmly in love with Georgie, which I plan to tell her the second we see each other again.
I’m kissing Georgie goodbye outside of Meant to Bean, where a car is waiting for me. Ava’s quince starts in a few hours—after my flight is set to leave.
“I’ll miss you,” I tell her.
“Me too,” she says with a frown, her arms locked around my neck. “I’m excited for you, though. You’re going to be amazing.”
“Thank you.” I press my lips to her forehead. “Do you promise you’ll call Jane about the coffee-cart pitch?”
“If you insist,” she says.
“I do. Meant to Bean has no idea how lucky they are to have you,” I say. She sniffs, but she doesn’t protest.
We’ve come a long way since I got back to Mullet Ridge, but there are still things we haven’t talked about and need to.
Logistics, locations, things any relationship has to establish to thrive.
We’ve lived on Cloud Nine for the last two weeks, though, and I refuse to bring us down to earth before I leave.
We stand in a hug for so long right next to the Little Free Library, I think we’re growing roots.
Holding her is my happy place. Yesterday in the flotation tank, all I could think of was how when Georgie’s in my arms, the boundary between us seems to blur, and I almost can’t tell where I stop and she begins.
There’s a oneness to being in love that I never imagined, a completeness I didn’t know was possible after already being a part of a we my entire life.
I know you’re not supposed to say that about your significant other.
We’re all supposed to be whole and complete on our own, and we shouldn’t put that on another person, blah blah blah.
I’m sure it’s all right, but it’s not the whole story.
Maybe I’m not “complete” with her, but I feel more me in every way.
I’m closer to the person I want to be when I’m with her.
Which feels a lot like being more complete.
Semantics aside, when the car arrives and I have to let Georgie go, I feel like I’m being pried in half.
“I’ll text you when I’m at the airport,” I say. “Say hi to Alma and Ava for me. And send me a picture of you in the dress for the quince. I wish I could be there.”
She nods, teary-eyed and sniffing. “Call me the second you land.”
“I will. I’ll be back, Georgie. I promise.”
“I know.” Her hands are clasped in front of her mouth. “I’ll be waiting.”
I pull the door closed, give the driver the location, and then I’m gone.
***
“Why does Doug need me there tomorrow morning?” I moan to Liesel as the car drives through a main road in Augusta.
The regional airport I’ve been flying in and out of is on the far side of the city, so I’ve passed these buildings and shops a handful of times now without ever really looking.
I stare out the window as I talk to my sister.
“Your arm’s healthy, and you have a media thing. Photo ops wait for no one.”
“But I’m not even on the roster this weekend.”
“And yet, Doug wants you at the facility at nine. Welcome to Major League life. It’s not yours until the season’s over, baby bro.”
Liesel’s a couple of minutes older than I am, and her big-sister energy can be both the best and worst. “It may not be mine at all if I don’t perform in the postseason,” I grumble.
Liesel normally builds me up when I talk like this, but now she snorts. “Wishful thinking, Lolo. Your yips have been nipped.”
“Ew.”
“I know. That sounded nasty.”
I whine over her word choice—nasty. “Nasty Georgie” has been fully and officially rolled into Georgie’s personality, and even though she’s incapable of actually being rude, she’s more comfortable being playful now.
Teasing me doesn’t make her squirm. Sticking her tongue out doesn’t break her out in a cold sweat.
She can’t talk smack to save her life, and I love that about her. I love everything about her.
“So you’re missing the party, huh? I’m sorry,” Liesel says. “It sounds hard.”
“It’s worse than hard. I hate this, Lee.”
We pull up to a light, and outside on the corner is a shoe store.
Right in the window is a display of Converse. Of course. There’s a pair of high-tops in a pale pink color that instantly reminds me of Georgie. I put my hand to my pocket, feeling my wallet, with the Meant to Bean patch carefully tucked away.
Liesel has gone silent, but I hear clicking in the background. “Hey, did you realize there’s a red-eye out of Augusta that leaves at three AM?”
“No, why?”
“Doug said you need to be in Chicago at nine AM tomorrow, not tonight, right?”
“Yeah?”
“Logan, it’s a three-hour flight. There’s a red-eye that leaves at three. Do the math.”
“But it doesn’t matter, because my flight leaves at six—I am such an idiot,” I say, slapping my head. “I don’t have to take that flight! I can take the red-eye and still get there!”
“Literally what I said,” Liesel says, but I can hear the smile in her voice. “Love you, bro. Say hi to Georgie for me.”
“I will! Love you, Lee. Thank you.”
I hang up and then lean forward to talk to the driver.
“Hey, man, did you see that Converse store back there? We’re going to have a few more stops.”