“Cole does most of the talking. I sit there and answer one or two questions and try not to look like I want to leave,” Logan says with a cute boyish smile. I stomp out the butterflies the sight makes me feel.
“And how's that going?” I ask to distract myself from how well he fills out his sweater.
“Getting better. Cole's been coaching me through it. He tells which reporter is going to ask what and how much I need to give them. He's good at reading a room.”
“He seems like a good captain.”
“Best I've ever played for.”
The waiter appears, and Logan orders a beer, and we both order food. The pappardelle for me, branzino for him, and then the waiter disappears.
Logan picks up his water glass, and takes a drink, his eyes locked on mine as he does. “You look beautiful,” he says as he sets the glass down, his eyes roaming over me.
My pulse kicks. “Thank you.”
His mouth curved with the faintest hint of a smile. “Last time I told you that, you ignored my text. Made me think there'ssomeone in your life who wouldn't take kindly to another man complimenting his lady.”
My stomach flips, but I keep my face neutral. “There's no one. What about you?”
“No one.”
My brows raise a fraction. “Logan Shaw, alternate captain of the New York Renegades, single? I find that hard to believe,” I tease.
He leans back in his chair, no trace of humor in his expression. “I haven’t been in a serious relationship since we broke up.”
What? He hasn’t had a girlfriend for a decade? My heart is pounding so hard I can feel it in my ears. Has he been carrying me around with him the same way I've been carrying him? Has he been measuring every woman against what we had, the way I've measured every man?
The thought is so big and frightening that I have to put it down before it swallows me whole. It's probably not about me at all. He's a professional athlete with a demanding schedule and an overbearing family.
There are a hundred reasons a man stays single that have nothing to do with a girl he dated in high school, but that doesn’t stop the bitterness over how we broke up I’ve buried deep to slip out. “Not surprised there. I'm sure Cat chases them all away.”
Logan’s jaw tightens. I’ve pissed him off. “My mother doesn't dictate my love life.”
Has he forgotten that Cat practically chased me out of his life? “Oh yeah?”
“I was young, Jasmine. I made a stupid mistake. I was eighteen, and I listened to my parents when I should have listened to myself. But I'm not eighteen anymore. I'm a grown man, and I make my own decisions.”
My heart is hammering against my ribs. What is he saying? Is he saying what I think he's saying?
The waiter arrives with our food and sets the plates down.
Logan picks up his fork and looks at my plate. “The pappardelle here is good?”
I stare at him. He just told me he hasn't had a serious relationship in ten years, and now he's asking about pasta. He can't say something like that and then switch to the menu like we're discussing the weather.
I want to reach across the table and grab him by the collar of his sweater and say, “What do you mean you haven't been in a serious relationship, Logan? What does that mean? Is it because of me? Is it because of what we had? Tell me the truth right now.”
But I don't. I'm scared of the answer either way. If it's about me, then we're standing at the edge of something I'm not ready for. If it's not about me, then I've spent ten years thinking I mattered more than I did.
Stop overthinking.
We were best friends before we were anything else. He's probably just talking to me the way you talk to an old friend about things you've moved past.
I take a deep breath before speaking. “It's incredible. Clara and I came here for her birthday last year, and I almost ordered a second plate.”
“Clara?” Logan asks.
“Yeah, she’s my friend at work,” I say.
