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“It was,” I agreed. “I’m glad we decided to do this.”
“I’m just glad you said yes,” Logan laughed again. “I really didn’t think you would.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because a part of you still hates me,” Logan said bluntly. It was almost too easy to be honest with each other.
“Hate isn’t the right word,” I said.
“What word would you use?” Logan asked. His eyes were fixed on mine and I knew he really wanted to know the answer. He was being sincere. It terrified me.
“Let’s order our food before we get into the heavy stuff,” I suggested, trying to keep my tone light hearted. Logan’s face told me he knew I was avoiding the question, but he was kind enough to let me.
We ordered a glass of wine each and nibbled on some breadsticks while we waited for our food. Our conversation stayed in the shallow end as he discussed my family and his. He told me about his parents moving out of state and I told him that Audra had another baby who was now almost four. He talked and I listened, I talked and he listened. We fell into an easy, unassuming rhythm that put me at ease.
It wasn’t until our plates were cleared and the dessert ordered that things once again turned serious.
“Piper,” Logan said. “I want you to know that, despite everything, I still care about you. You may not believe this, but I never stopped thinking about you. Not once.”
I watched his eyes as he spoke and I knew he meant every word he said. My fear escalated as I thought of the secret I was keeping from him. Over the years, I told myself it was better that Logan never knew. I reassured myself over and over again that it was for the best. But, sitting there with him, enjoying a plate of cannoli, listening to him tell me how much he still cared for me… my resolve began to weaken. For the first time, I considered telling him everything.
“Can I ask you that question again?” Logan asked. His words pulled me out of my head. I blinked a couple times and frowned. “About hating me?”
I laughed weakly and said, “I really don’t hate you, Logan. Not even close.”
“Then, how do you feel about me now?”
“Well,” I said, speaking slowly. “When you left, I was mad. And hurt. It felt like our entire relationship was just marking time for you. Like you were using me as a distraction until your real life came along.”
“That wasn’t…”
“Let me finish,” I said quickly. “But, when I moved to New York I was able to get some distance from this town and from the memories I had of you. I knew then that I never hated you. There were times when I wished I did, but I couldn’t. You can’t hate someone when you spent so much time loving them. I think what I felt was just resentment. I resented you for getting out first, for leaving before I could. I resented you for not asking me to go with you, for not waiting to go with me.”
“What would you have said?” Logan asked softly. “If I asked you to go?”
“I don’t know.” I shook my head and thought hard about my answer. “I think, back then, there wasn’t anything I wouldn’t have done for you.”
At my words, Logan’s eyes closed for a fraction of a second. When they opened, I could see the pain he’d been hiding rise to the surface. Without thinking, I reached across the table and held his hand. He stroked my palm with his thumb.
We sat in silence, holding hands and staring at each other, for what felt like hours. I knew he was remembering the same things I was: all those nights together in my room or his, in my car or his. Just the slightest touch made those desires flood back to the surface for us both. As he watched me, I saw that familiar glint in his eyes. He wanted me just as badly as I wanted him.
This easy date was about to turn into some night.
Seventeen
Logan
“Thank you for walking me home,” Piper said with a shy smile. We were standing at the edge of her driveway, both of us shuffling our feet awkwardly.
“Piper,” I said breathlessly.
“Please,” Piper said quickly. “We can’t, okay? We can’t go there.”
“Why not?” I asked, taking a step toward her. “I know you felt it, too. At the restaurant. You felt that spark between us. I know you did.”
“Of course, I did,” Piper said emphatically. “But that doesn’t change anything.”
“Doesn’t it?” I asked. “Because for me, it changes everything.”
