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“I can’t do anything about your brother’s threats yet. I appreciate you making me aware of his phone call. I’m making notes in your file about this. If something like this happens again, please call me right away,” he requests. “Since Dunbar didn’t make anyspecificthreats, we can’t prove he has intent to harm you. His attorney will chalk it up to being upset and speaking in anger.”
That is what I’ve been worried about. If there’s nothing to be done, I’m not sure I should have called. After a week of building up courage to make this call, I feel defeated that the mental energy and bravery I’ve spent doesn’t matter after all. At least I’d learned about visitation rights in case it ever comes to that again.
My client meetings have been lighter than usual this week, and I ditch the rest of the workday to go home. Logan unexpectedly greets me in the foyer.
“Guess what?”
I’m not sure what he’s up to, but if he’s trying to be funny or flirty, I’m not in the mood. The call with Chase left a cloud hanging over me.
“I have a job interview tomorrow!”
“Oh, my gosh. That’s amazing news.” I reach out and pull him in for a quick hug—a platonic hug. I can’t help but notice Logan pulls away just as quickly as I release him.
Logan commented yesterday on how his job search and application submissions are grinding him down. He only hears from about 30% of the companies, which makes no sense to me. I looked over his resume for him last week and helped him tweak some minor wording, but there’s no red flags and he beautifully explained his employment gap. Neither of us understand how he hasn’t found a new job, but Rainey and I aren’t complaining because that means Logan and Maggie will continue living with us.
“Where?”
“It’s a pretty small company just inside of Newport, but the position is identical to what I was doing in California.”
I’m genuinely happy for him. His entire demeanor has brightened since he moved out of the apartment, but I find him listless and not always present. A job outside the house may be a step toward getting him outside of his own head.
“Is there anything I can do to help you prepare?”
“Maybe help me figure out what to wear? The clothes I’ve worn to my last few interviews haven’t landed me the job.”
“I don’t think clothes land you a job, but I’m more than happy to make suggestions after dinner? Where’s Rainey?”
“In the backyard playing with Maggie.”
The weather today feels too warm for the middle of November. The girls’ faces are full of glee as they draw with chalk on the patio. Hope lays next to Maggie sunning herself. I think the girls may have created a secret code because Rainey’s pulling at her ear while laughing at Maggie.
I’m home early enough to help Logan with dinner for a change. When I make it back downstairs, after changing into my publicly unacceptable but most comfy loungewear, Logan’s on the phone in the living room with his back to me.
“I’m not sure, but I’ll ask her.” His speaking stops while he listens to the person on the other line. “Aunt Claire, I promise I’ll tell you if anything changes, but we areroommates.Just roommates.” He doesn’t know I’m right behind him, and I sneak back up the stairs only to walk back down with obnoxiously loud steps.
“I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later.” He turns and looks at me. “Yes, I’ll let you know. I love you, too.”
He tosses his phone on the coffee table, grabs the TV remote, and flips through the channels before deciding against watching TV and returning the remote to where he found it. I make my way to the kitchen and open random cabinet doors to see what I can make for dinner.
“What are you doing?”
“I thought I would cook since I’m home early.”
He stands and walks to meet me at the fridge. “You don’t have to. I’ll cook. I’ve been watching these YouTube videos, and I found a recipe I can make without causing us bodily harm.”
Remembering Logan over the smoking stove in his apartment kitchen still makes me laugh hard. Out loud.
“You don’t think that’s possible?”
“N-no,” I wheeze through laughter. “I mean, yes. I just remember the look on your face when you pulled the garlic,” another fit of laughter escapes, “garlic bread from the oven at your old place.” He looks at me, unamused for a second but unable to maintain the hold on his stern face. A grin escapes and spreads across his entire face. He joins in my laughter and our voices mix to create a beautiful duet.
“Back to dinner . . . are you good with trying my recipe? I’d be glad to have you as my sous-chef again.”
I raise an eyebrow at him because we both know what happened the last time I helped Logan in the kitchen. I’m not sure if he’s genuinely inviting me to help cook or flirting with me. I like the second option.
“I can help. What are we making?”
“It’s a curry recipe. Do you like curry?”
