31. Daphne
31
DAPHNE
I wonder who had twenty-five days in the family betting pool of how long Logan and I could stand to be apart? I kept up the mantra of X more weeks. We can do this. And I believe it. But I don’t want to wait another three weeks to be with Logan again. I’m flying to Paris. My trip is a surprise to Logan. Liam and Will promised not to tell him. They only know of my plan because, well, I work for Will, and Liam drove me to the Newark airport yesterday afternoon.
When I requested my time off, I spoke to Mike about wanting to cut back my hours in the new year. I explained how I was doing video tours and wanted more time to devote to that. It turns out he had seen the two tours I’d done so far, thanks to Logan sharing the links. Our discussion turned to the minor in marketing I’d earned in college and how videos showing the outlet centers could be excellent marketing tools. We brainstormed with Will and came up with the idea of doing video tours of the area around the outlets and coordinating with local attractions for joint marketing. We’re going to test-drive it using the local centers, but if they’re successful, it may be something we take nationwide. I don’t know how Logan is going to react when I tell him. Hopefully, he’s understanding that I don’t want to just tag along on his adventures. I want to have adventures of my own. He can come with me if he wants.
I worked half a day on Friday so I could make my nonstop flight to Paris. If I flew out of Philly, I’d have layovers, and I wouldn’t arrive in Paris until Saturday afternoon after flying over twelve hours. By flying from Newark, I arrive shortly after seven in the morning local time and my flight is merely seven hours. I owe Liam big-time.
This week, Logan has been in Paris attending markets that opened early. Later this afternoon, his plan is to travel to Strasbourg, a city a couple of hours east of Paris when traveling by train. My plan is to text him when I land and figure out how to get where he is. If he’s already left for Strasbourg, then I’ll take the train to meet him. I just crossed the Atlantic Ocean, so a two-hour train ride isn’t a big deal, especially when we’re at least in the same country again!
I heed the announcement to return my tray to the upright position. We must be landing soon. I can’t believe I’m doing this. It’s the most spontaneous thing I’ve ever done. Okay, it wasn’t truly spontaneous. I had to renew my passport and order plane tickets—those things required planning. But this is spontaneity, Daphne Foster style. Normally, I would’ve planned for months, with multiple to-do lists and lists of pros and cons, and, in the end, I would’ve talked myself out of doing it.
I’m proud of myself. To anyone else, it may not seem like a big deal, but to me, it’s a sign I’ve grown, a sign I’m being brave. I’ve spent years staying home, sticking to a routine, and not trying new things because it was more comfortable sticking with the familiar. Taking this trip to France to surprise Logan is something sixteen-year-old Daphne would have done when she became an adult. I’ve missed her, and I’m glad she showed up, finally.
“Fingers crossed, Logan likes the renewed version of me I’m becoming,” I whisper to myself as we start our descent. My seatmate probably thinks I’m praying. They’re not wrong. Part of me worries Logan won’t like new me because he’s always known cautious, predictable me, and he accepts me that way. I’ve had enough therapy over the years to know the most important thing is that I love the person I am. Anyone else loving me is a bonus. Intellectually knowing that is one thing. Accepting it in my heart is another. I’m praying my faith in Logan’s love isn’t misplaced.
I feel the jolt of the landing gear contacting the tarmac and the deceleration of the plane. Someone further back in the cabin applauds. There’s always someone who does that. Maybe it’s a plant. The pilot welcomes us to Paris and gives the local time and weather while we taxi toward the gate. I unlock my phone to open the text thread and thumb a message to Logan.
Me: Good morning! Guess where I am?
Logan: At home in our bed?
Me: Bzzzzzzz! Wrong answer. Would you like a picture clue?
Logan: Okay, make sure you’re in the picture. I miss your face.
I take a picture out the window to show the jets at the gates next to mine and send it. I’m visible in the reflection on the glass.
Me: Any guesses?
Logan: You’re on a plane????? Where are you going???
Me: I’m already there.
Logan: Sunshine, put me out of my misery. Where are you?
Me: I don’t know the exact gate, but I believe they call it the Charles de Gaulle Airport? Oops, time to get off the plane. I’ll FaceTime you once I’m through customs or whatever. I didn’t check a bag, so hopefully it won’t be too long. See you soon!
I grab my bag from the overhead bin and exit my row to join the slow line of passengers disembarking the plane. I follow the flow of the crowd and let it lead me to where I need to go.
Wow. The massiveness of this space is overwhelming. My eyes jump from the high ceiling to the shops that rival the fanciest of shopping malls. There are people everywhere—babies crying, couples reuniting, business people on their phones making deals. This is so much bigger than I thought it would be. The jostling of the crowd makes me feel like a pebble being carried downstream by a strong current.
My ears are buffeted by conversations in so many languages I don’t understand, but the cries of joy when people reunite with their loved ones are universally understood. I smile as I enter the arrival hall where I can meet Logan—if he’s in town—and I watch a husband give his wife an enormous bouquet of pale pink roses to welcome her home. I can smell their fragrance from here. Their little boy gives his mother a smaller bouquet of daisies. So sweet. I want to be greeted at the airport by Logan and our children one day. Roses are optional, but hugs are not.
I pull out my phone to message him.
Me: I’m through everything and in the arrival hall for my terminal. Where do I need to go to meet up with you?
Logan: Turn around.
I read his message and feel myself doing the confused puppy head tilt he teases me about. I glance up and turn around as directed and find the man I love standing ten feet away. I feel tears gather, at odds with the huge smile spreading across my face. I’m not sure who moved to the other or if we met in the middle, but the next thing I know, I’m enfolded in Logan’s embrace, and we’re kissing passionately. I’ve missed this man so much. It’s only been three and a half weeks, but it feels like forever.
I almost forget we’re in a very public place. Thankfully, I remember in time to stop myself from wrapping my leg around his hips. Public displays of affection are one thing, public displays of fornication are better saved for Amsterdam. With great reluctance, I pull back from our kiss.
“How did you get here so fast?” I ask. My research says it takes at least half an hour to reach the airport on the outskirts of Paris, and it’s early in the morning. “Were you already dressed and ready to go?”
Logan grabs my rolling carry-on bag with one hand, takes my hand in the other, and leads me toward a shuttle. “That’s a funny story.” I think he’s blushing. Why is he blushing? “I’m staying at a hotel a few minutes away.”
“Why?” I ask. “Isn’t it inconvenient to be so far from the city center of Paris? You’re wasting a lot of time going back and forth every day.”
“If I was traveling back to the city center, it would suck, but if I was catching a flight this afternoon, it’s convenient.”
Jet lag must be really kicking my ass or I’m extremely dense because I’m not following our conversation.
“I thought you were taking a train to Strasbourg. Are you going somewhere else instead?”
We take our seats aboard the shuttle. I don’t know where we’re going, but I trust Logan knows what to do.
A horrible thought enters my mind. “Oh no! Am I ruining your plans? I’m sorry!” I feel the sting of tears, and this time, they aren’t tears of joy.
“No! You aren’t ruining anything, Daph. This is wonderful!” Logan releases my hand so he can wrap his around my shoulder and pull me close for a kiss. This time, we’re mindful of our surroundings and keep our kiss to a more PG standard. “I was flying back home to you this afternoon. I was cutting my trip short and coming home.”
Wait. What? He was coming home? If I had taken a later flight, I could have arrived after he left, and we’d still be on different continents. My face must telegraph my thoughts because he’s quick to reassure me.
“Hey, sunshine. It’s okay. We’re here together now. I’ll change my ticket to fly home with you.” He presses a kiss on my forehead. “We’re good. When is your flight home scheduled for?”
With a murmured, “Here we are,” Logan stands and grasps my hand again to lead me off the shuttle and into another terminal of the airport.
“Where are we?” I follow Logan as we take a covered walkway from the terminal. I don’t know if we’re going to a parking lot or the train station.
“We’re going back to the hotel. It’s a couple minutes’ walk.” He glances back at me.
Wiggling my brows, I try a seductive smile. With my luck, it probably appears like I smelled a fart.
“I want to go to bed, but I’m not tired.”
I guess my smile was better than I thought because Logan’s gaze flares with a sudden heat. His grip on my hand tightens, and he walks with purpose.
I almost need to jog to keep up with the rapid pace he sets, but I’m not complaining. I’m eager to get to our room too. I’m beyond ready to take our relationship to the next level of intimacy.
Yet, I’m nervous too. I’ve never been with a man before, but this is Logan. Beyond being my boyfriend, he’s my best friend. He’ll take care of me and do everything humanly possible to make this a wonderful experience for both of us.
I don’t have time to admire the lobby of the modern hotel we enter. Logan leads me to the waiting elevator and hits the button for the third floor. The moment the doors close, he presses me against the side wall of the car and kisses me deeply, his tongue stroking mine in a way that has me pressing my thighs together to relieve the pressure building there. It feels like mere seconds when we arrive at our floor. The doors open, and Logan takes my hand as we exit the elevator.
“Come on, this way,” he says, letting go of my hand to slip his arm around my waist. The smooth move propels me to the left so we can walk briskly to a door two-thirds of the way along the hall. Stopping at the door to room 307, Logan waves the card to unlock it and ushers me in.
Straight ahead is a king-size bed with rumpled white sheets. I imagine being in that bed with Logan. The room is small—the bed goes wall-to-wall at the far end of the room, and a TV hangs above it. We essentially walk through the bathroom when we enter the bedroom.
Giving me a grimace tinged with embarrassment, Logan glances around the room as if seeing it for the first time.
“I’m sorry. I was here for the night before flying home. I wasn’t expecting you to be here.”
I walk further into the room, not that there’s very far to go, and sit on the bed. “It’s fine. It has a bed and a bathroom. You need little more than that.”
He stands but doesn’t cross the room to join me on the bed. Why? I pat the mattress—an invitation.
“No way, Daph. I’m not sure I can resist temptation, and I don’t want our first time together to be here.”
“Logan!” I cry. “I want to be with you. I don’t care about the room aesthetics.”
Finally, he strides across the room and kneels in front of me. He rests his hands on my jeans-clad knees. “Daphne, I care. I want the first time we make love to be special. I don’t want it to be in an airport hotel.”
“Are you saying I flew all the way to Paris and I’m not getting boinked?!” I say it in a joking manner, but I’m serious. I missed him, and I’m tired of waiting. I want him. I’ve been dreaming of being with him for weeks. Does he not want to have sex with me? Has our time apart changed his mind?
Oh no, have I read this situation all wrong? He said he loves me, but he doesn’t know I heard him because I didn’t tell him I loved him. Is that why he changed his mind? Maybe he wants to go back to being friends? Was there a time limit I wasn’t aware of?
“Oh, you’re getting boinked today, Daphne,” he reassures me, “but not here.” He squeezes my knee. “How about this? You take a shower.”
I raise my eyebrows in the universally known gesture for wanna join?
He chuckles. “Alone. There are limits to my restraint, Daph.”
“It’s more efficient and environmentally conscious if we shower together, you know,” I mention, teasing him.
“Hush, you. I already took my shower, and I know you want to wash the travel cooties off you. I’m running downstairs to grab stuff from the breakfast buffet while you take your shower. No funny business.” His earnest gaze meets mine. “Please, Daph. I want to do this right.”
Oh, my heart. I couldn’t deny this man anything. Leaning forward, I place a quick kiss on his lips because I must. I can’t resist him.
“Okay, we will do it your way.” I pause. “This time.” I try out a stern expression to show I’m serious, but I’m uncertain if I pulled it off. “But don’t think I’m going to always give in.” I squeeze his hands where they rest on my knees. “Now go fetch me food, kind sir. I need to keep my strength up.”
After lifting my hand to his lips to place a lingering kiss on the back of it, he stands and gives me a courtly bow. “Yes, milady. Dost thou have any special requests?”
He is such a goof. I tell him to get whatever he thinks is good and watch him walk out the door. I’m sure he’s going to dawdle so that I have time to shower and get dressed, but he’s right. I want to wash the travel cooties off me. I strip and turn on the shower, adjusting the temperature to something less than scalding. I quickly soap up and rinse off. Using the same soap Logan did feels intimate. Considering what I hope we do tonight, it feels silly to think about the intimacy of using the same bar of soap, but I can’t help it. I use the shampoo the hotel supplies because I didn’t want to go digging in my bag for the travel-size bottle of my usual shampoo. It smells nice. I feel fancy using French toiletries. I laugh at the sheltered life I’ve led. By the time Logan returns with a tray holding muffins, bottled water, yogurt, berries, and granola, I’m dressed and running a towel over my hair.
Setting the tray on the small desktop, Logan smiles at me. “Feel better?”
“I do. I’m ready to go on an adventure!” I hug him. I’m in France. With Logan. I can barely believe it! “What are we doing first? I want to do everything!”
“Well, first we’re eating breakfast, but while we’re doing that, we can figure out what we’re going to do next. We can stay in Paris. Or we can take the train to Strasbourg and do the Christmas Market there.” He pulls the top off his cinnamon strudel muffin and sets it on my plate. He really loves me; muffin tops are my favorite. “Strasbourg is really neat. It’s in the Alsace region of France. There’s a long history of French and German culture. Remember, we studied the Cathédrale Notre Dame de Strasbourg in class?”
I can’t hold back my happy moan while chewing the bite of muffin. The sweet and spicy flavors are exploding on my tongue.
Logan’s eyes darken with my moan. He wants me.
So why is he reluctant to sleep with me? Is it really just that this room isn’t that romantic, or is there more to it? Doing my best to push any negative thoughts away, I do an excited Tigger bounce in my chair at the thought of finally seeing in person something I’ve daydreamed about exploring. That I get to experience it with Logan is a dream come true. We would have lunch after our history and architecture class and talk about the places we wanted to visit, but I never dreamed it would happen for me at all, let alone with Logan by my side as my boyfriend.
I swallow the muffin bite and take a sip of water. “I remember. Let’s go to Strasbourg for at least a couple of days. I scheduled my flight home for next Saturday. I’m supposed to be back in the office a week from Monday. Will you be able to change your flight?”
With an overconfident grin splitting his face, he replies, “Sunshine, just wait and see what I can do.”
I can’t wait. That’s part of my frustration! However, I’ll channel my inner grown-up, try to be patient, and let Logan plan things how he wishes them to be. This time.