“It’s been a pleasure. Especially that part when I made you scream in the shop.”
The teasing grin on his face made my temperature rise, and I gave him a gentle kick under the table. “That was not my favourite part of the day!”
“What was?”
Lying beside you. Holding hands.
I wasn’t ready to say that out loud either. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be ready for that. How could I explain that my favourite part of the day didn’t exist. There wasn’t one moment, not really. It was all one long moment of epic that had given me the answers to the questions I’d had. The Logan I’d created in my mind was a real person, not one I’d fabricated. Of course, this didn’t help my feelings for him. It made them stronger, and I had a decision to make. Should I tell him? I had the handy help of booze to blame if it all went wrong…
But I wasn’t drunk enough to pull it off. And I didn’t want to be drunk. If I was drunk, he probably would be too, and after all this time, if I was going to make a confession, I wanted it to mean something. I wanted it to be real.
“I liked the part when Mrs Kay asked if we were married, and I momentarily thought she was serious.”
Logan laughed. “You should have seen your face! But yeah, that was funny.”
“I’m not sure I understand the concept of getting married so young,” I said, thoughtfully. “I think that was what surprised me the most – that she would think anyone would be tied down at our age.”
Logan raised his eyebrows. “Tied down? I didn’t think you’d see marriage that way.”
“I don’t. But young marriage is… brave, I guess.”
“Wow. You’re not who I thought you were. Didn’t you used to spend hours of your time watching the older boys at school and hoping to bag one of them?”
“Yes!” I laughed. I’d already confessed as much, there was no point in being embarrassed. “But I never said I wanted to marry them.”
“Please,” Logan said. “Don’t tell me you’re not a romantic. You’re a girl!”
I didn’t mind him pulling the “girl” card on me. His assessment wasn’t totally wrong. I listened to swoony music and imagined my wedding day occasionally, but the older I got, the more… maybe not cynical, but certainly careful, I’d become.
“I’m sort of a cautious romantic. Yes, I grew up reading and watching fairy tales, so of course, I believe in the happy ending. I want the happy ending. But love is a weird thing. You fall in love with another person, and you basically hand over your heart and spend the rest of the time praying they don’t damage it. It takes a hell of a lot of trust to hand that over. If, or when, something goes wrong, you can’t repair that damage. Sure, the scars fade over time but they don’t leave. They stay, as an ugly reminder that you trusted the wrong person. And each one makes you more afraid to fall in love again, because how many times can you get it wrong before the scars don’t heal? Before you become too scared to try again?”
Logan blew out a breath. “I wasn’t expecting to get this deep.”
I raised my glass again. “It’s the alcohol. It makes me think.”
He nodded. “I get what you’re saying and I agree. I’m just surprised you feel that way. I thought you’d be a ‘love conquers all’ and ‘you should never give up on finding love’ kind of person.”
“I am, to an extent. But the whole concept does blow my mind and terrify me too. Giving someone so much of yourself is scary. I think it’s worth it, but it’s hard to let go and just… be okay with the fear.”
Another thing I’d come to realise as Logan and I grew closer was that having someone in my life I could have fun with was more important than everything else my family expected of me when it came to settling down. I viewed those things as optional extras; lovely to have but not absolutely necessary to live a fulfilled life.
Logan stared at me, his eyes soft as they met mine and this time I didn’t look away. “Who hurt you, Marnie?”
His tone was gentle, and it washed over me, calming me enough to consider answering the question. I knew what he was asking; he wanted to know which of my very few boyfriends had made me hold back, but the truth was so much deeper.
“Me,” I said, eventually, my voice shaking. Logan’s eyebrows pulled together, and I licked my lips to moisten them since they’d suddenly become dry as I realised how honest I’d been, and where my words were taking me. A place that certainly isn’t cautious.
“What do you mean?”
When he reached for my hand, every place our flesh touched burned, but it brought a fresh wave of fear and I pulled back. Because the guy in front of me was a friend. He was concerned for me like a friend. And even if it was more, there was so much at stake. Too much to lose if it all went wrong. I’d gotten close to him like I’d wanted, but in some ways, that had made things a hell of a lot scarier than when I’d been looking at him through rose-tinted glasses. Now the glasses were off, everything was still rose-coloured, and I had nothing to protect me. No doubts that I was wrong about him.
I shook my head. “It’s nothing. Can you give me a minute?”
Without waiting for a reply, I stood up and speed-walked across the pub, inexplicable tears filling my eyes as I pushed through the doors and out onto the street. The rain continued to fall, matching my tears, and I wiped them away, trying to get a hold of myself as cars whizzed past me, kicking up the water from the gutter and getting me wetter.
What just happened? A perfectly reasonable conversation had turned into me making a melodramatic exit. Way to ruin a great day by being a total and utter girl.
I couldn’t help it, though. Being so close to Logan yet not quite having the nerve to try to get closer triggered my emotions, my memories. The sheer length of time I’d known him and wanted him overwhelmed me.