Chapter 8
Istill haven’t broken the gaze between us when the same old man who interrupted our meal exclaims:
“One more!”
Logan looks at the man, then back at me, as if asking for permission. I blink a few times, still dazed by everything that just went through my head, and then give him a nonchalant nod and mouth, “Go ahead.”
Before I know it, he begins playing again, this time with Adele’s Set Fire to the Rain. While it’s not my favourite, it is another song that’s dear to me, and I’m beginning to wonder if Logan has done more sleuthing on me than I first thought.
After all, if I kept up with what he’s been doing all these years, wouldn’t it stand to reason that he’d do the same?
But that’s not what I should be thinking about. What I should be thinking about is the way his music is making me feel.
I don’t dare put any words to the way my insides are turning to jelly. Because this is new. Well—new is one way to put it. I did feel this pull, this full-body tingle, a few other times when we were younger. One time, I’d run to his house, absolutely destroyed about the fact my dad would miss graduation. He’d held me so tight, and I’d felt it then. What I’m feeling now.
And there was graduation night.
But I can’t entertain this. Logan was my best friend. That was it. Right? And he could become my best friend again if circumstances are right. I know it sounds cliché to say, but I don’t have many friends, so the last thing I want is to lose him.
And even if I were to explore what I’m feeling … I don’t know if I’d be ready to relocate to San Francisco to pursue anything more. I can’t ask Logan to move to Montreal. His career is over there. Maybe I could move someday, but certainly not right now, especially while I’m still confused.
But those aren’t the only reasons I can’t entertain this thought.
I think of my dad and Jasper and feel my heart sink. For some reason, I wasn’t good enough for Jasper. And even my own dad, who’s supposed to be there for me when shit hits the fan … even he won’t talk to his own daughter.
It’s not like the rest of my life with him was different. He was always travelling for work and gone for extended periods of time—months, even. The longest I remember him being gone was four months, but two to three months wasn’t uncommon. Then he’d come back for two weeks, and I’d finally get to see him until he left again for another two months at least.
When we were living it, I at least consoled myself with the fact that he was doing this to provide for us. He did it because the job demanded it. And I believed that for a long time. But I still remember the pang of horror I felt when Mom told me the truth about his work trips.
I’d been at Mom’s tiny new apartment soon after Dad had left her, sipping some tea with her at the dingy dinner table she’d gotten off Craigslist. This was a few months after the worst of the pain had ebbed through her, and I did my best to spend as much time as I could with her so she didn’t have to be alone. At that point, she’d still been a bit raw about the topic of Dad.
Which is exactly why I should have avoided that topic, but somehow, there I was, talking about him.
“I still don’t understand why Dad didn’t complain to the company when they sent him away for so long.” I’d sighed in between two sips of tea. Right away, Mom’s face had shifted. I couldn’t tell if the look on her face was anger, pity, or both. “What?”
“You’ve got it the other way around, honey.” She’d huffed and looked out the window, a fire lit in her eyes. “You know the usual shifts they did here. 14-14, 7-7, 4-3, or 30-14 at worst. Do you really think they would have forced your father to leave for ninety whole days at a time and only take two weeks off in between?”
Dread had crawled through me like a viper. “What do you mean?”
She’d rolled her eyes and scoffed. “It was always him. He loves you, and I’m pretty sure he loved me, too.” Her eyes had gone watery. “But I know he never felt at ease in this kind of life. This sedentary family life. It restricted him from the ability to go wherever he wanted to, because I never wanted to uproot your life every year. It’s like we trapped him or choked him. So, of course, he insisted they keep him away longer so he could help out. The company was just glad they could get more man-hours out of him, and he was happy in that role. Now he’s exactly where he always wanted to be.”
I’m reliving the same horrible, sinking feeling as I think back to that moment of realization while Adele’s haunting piano notes still ring in my ear. The overstuffed restaurant booth is about to swallow me whole.
I can’t do this with Logan. Because I can’t stand being not good enough for someone so important to me. Not again.
But I can behave. I’ve done it before. Before Jasper, there was this cute college professor I couldn’t stop thinking about with the dimples of a Greek god. Completely inappropriate. And that’s why I never pursued him.
So I can do this. I can do friends.
My thoughts get interrupted by another round of clapping, and I realize Logan has wrapped up the song. He gives a small wave to the restaurant patrons and staff before he heads back towards me.
“Sorry about that,” he says as he slides into his side of the booth. He immediately takes a sip of his beer. “I always play for the gang when I come here, so I guess they have expectations now. Even when I’m with someone.” He looks at me sheepishly.
I try to forget how mesmerized his piano skills just made me feel and take a big gulp of my drink. It’s just Logan. Of course he’s good at the piano. He was always the best at everything.
But I can see from the way he’s looking at me that he knows something’s wrong. And it doesn’t take him a long time to speak up. “You sure you’re okay?”
I take a deep breath, trying to make it appear normal. “Yeah, yeah! I’m just hungry. And I enjoyed your little show there.” And then, because I’ve just got to ask and I can’t help myself: “How did you know about All of Me?” Realizing how that sounded out loud, I immediately add, “The song, I mean. Not, like all of ‘me’ me.” I gesture to my body to drive the point home, then internally cringe at the way I’m acting. Shut up, Avery.
Logan goes red again and starts chewing the inside of his cheek. Even after all this time apart, he still has the same little quirks and habits. It’s the same thing as when you notice a father and son side-by-side who move in an eerily similar pattern and have nearly identical mannerisms.
“Yeah, I was wondering if I was going to get away with that,” he replies, just as Judith comes swooping in with what looks like the most delicious shrimp pesto pasta I’ve ever laid eyes on.
“Holy …” I take it all in, staring at the plate with hunger. But then I remember not to get distracted and look back at Logan, who has the same plate set in front of him. “And nope, you’re not getting away with it. Even food won’t distract me from the obvious fact that you somehow know my favourite song.”
He chuckles and grabs his fork to dig in. “It’s funny. You still stare at food the exact same way you used to.”
I point at him with my fork, feigning annoyance. “Don’t you change the subject, sir!”
“Okay, okay.” He takes a bite and slowly chews before continuing. He’s doing it on purpose; he obviously finds this hilarious. “So, when I got the idea to take you here, I went digging a bit on Instagram and saw you mention this was your favourite song.”
“Yeah. I did. In a post from, like, three years ago.” I shoot him a coy smile.
“Yup. I know.” He shrugs and grabs another bite. “But I was determined to figure it out.”
I try not to let myself feel warm and fuzzy at the fact that he likely spent close to an hour, if not more, trying to find my favourite song just so he could perform it in front of me later. There’s so much to appreciate about this man. To distract myself, I finally grab a bite of the scrumptious-looking meal right in front of me.
My eyes go wide. “Oh. My. God.” I look down at my bowl, then back at Logan. “This has got to be the best shrimp dish I’ve ever eaten in my life.”
“Didn’t I tell you?” He smiles with pride. “Pretty much everything here is good, but this one tops it. And the worst thing is, tourists miss out. This place isn’t by the water, and it doesn’t look like much from the outside, and from what the staff here has told me, tourists who do come hardly ever try the pasta. They go for the steaks and ribs.”
We keep chatting as we’re each enjoying this amazing meal at the same time. The conversation comes easy, like breathing, and for this vignette of a moment, I feel how I felt when Logan played piano earlier.
Weightless. At peace. Like everything is going to be okay.
Before I know it, we’ve both finished our meal, Judith has whisked our plates away, and we’ve each got a check in front of us. But Logan frowns, then grabs Judith’s wrist before she can leave.
“What’s up, honey?” she asks, not at all jolted by Logan grabbing her. He really must be a regular.
“Can we actually get just one check, please?” I try to interject, but he raises his hand to interrupt me. “Don’t even try. I invited you, so obviously I’m paying. Also, you don’t need any more anxiety about extra bills to pay, so this is happening, and don’t you dare try to fight me on this one.”
I stay quiet and squeeze my lips together. He’s got a point. I’m all for equality and splitting the bill. But I’m not the type of person who’ll throw a hissy fit if you try to pay the bill for me, either.
I just hate how much this makes it seem even more like a date.
Because it’s clearly not a date.
“Thank you,” I reply. Then I squint my eyes at him. “But I’ll get you back. Somehow. When I land my next contract or something.”
“Yeah, yeah. We’ll see.”
We finish up and get ready to leave. But I’m not ready for the evening to end. Evidently, neither is Logan, because as soon as we’re both in his car he shoots me an intriguing look. “Wanna see something cool?”
I can’t help but notice how close our faces are in this car. The air feels taut, like someone’s holding an elastic around our two bodies and it’s about to snap and pull us closer. I blink several times and try to get my breath in order. “Depends what it is, because it sounds like you’re planning to take me to your murder spot near the woods or something.”
He laughs, and his laughter infects me. “Nah, I’d never show you my murder spot. I wouldn’t want you stealing it and getting us both caught with your sloppy amateur work.”
My hand shoots to my chest as I feign indignation. “I’m nothing if not a pure professional! How dare you question my skills?”
“So I’m guessing it’s a yes, then?” He raises his eyebrows, beckoning me to take him up on the invitation.
I don’t know if I should. On the one hand, friends show friends cool secret things all the time. And I know for certain that I do want Logan as a friend again. Because now that I feel what it’s like to have him back in my life, I don’t ever want to go back.
On the other hand, I don’t like this slippery slope. I’m afraid I’ll do something I regret or give him the wrong idea. “Actually, do you mind if we drive back to the resort for tonight?” I can see his disappointment immediately. “It’s not that I’m not curious about your murder spot,” I say, trying to keep it light. “I’m just really tired. And I want to be able to wake up and be productive tomorrow. You know?”
He gives me a few quick nods. “Yeah, of course.” He starts the car in silence.
“Maybe you can take me there for our next outing,” I say to encourage him. Even though I don’t want to give him the wrong idea, I also don’t want him to think I don’t want to spend time with him.
“That’s an idea,” he says, but his mood has obviously changed. Shoot. A weight presses against my chest. I hope he’s not too hurt.
The drive back is relatively quiet, but I do my best to keep it light. By the time we’re back at my cabin, the air feels like static. It’s a good thing I said no because I’m finding it hard to keep my hands to myself.
“Good night, then,” he says as I leave his car.
“Good night, Logan.” I give him the best smile I can muster despite the weight in my chest. “And thank you. I had a great time. And I’m pretty sure I’m going to wake up more inspired tomorrow morning.”
“That’s the goal, isn’t it?” He gives me a quick goodbye with his hand. “I’ll see you soon, then. Sleep well, Avery.”
I watch him drive away and wrap my arms around myself, aware of the sudden chill of the evening air. I’m making the right choice. I can make a friend, get inspired, finish this project, and then focus on working on myself to get over this damn existential crisis.
Easy peasy.