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In one weekend, she had been swept up into forgetting the past. Into believing that she and Logan could have some semblance of a normal friendship. Dakota kept her eyes closed. She did not want to see him or hear his voice. The reminder of her loss was too great. Instead, she willed herself to relax and prayed that sleep would come to aid her escape. Moments later, it did.
* * *
How in the world had things gone from great to catastrophe in mere minutes?
One comment had caused a tidal wave to rise up and wipe out all his progress. He had somehow upset her, and could have kicked himself for the misstep. Damn.
She shut down faster than a roller coaster when it rained. How would he ever bridge the gap between them when one reference to their past wreaked this kind of havoc? It just did not make sense. Something was wrong, and Logan was now more convinced than ever that there was more to it than just his piece in the puzzle. Until they sat down and came to terms with the past, nothing he tried would work. He would never earn her trust, or win her heart.
Logan cast a glance at Dakota. It was obvious by her breathing that she was no longer faking, but really asleep. He needed to find another way to occupy his time. The last thing he wanted was for her to wake up and find him staring at her like a lost puppy. He got up quietly, and walked over to ease the pleated shade down to block the sunlight across her face. Afterward, he went in the back to watch a movie. Logan reclined in his chair, placed Bose headphones on and did his best to tune out the thoughts racing through his head.
* * *
Norma Jean had a family dinner every Sunday. Over the last year, the guest list had grown exponentially. In addition to her son and his wife, Adrian’s best friend, Justin Lambert, and his wife, Sabrina, would attend, as would Milán’s best friend, Tiffany Mangum, along with her husband, Ivan, and their son, Gavin. Since Logan had returned, he had made a few dinners, too. They had become her extended family, and permanent fixtures in the Anderson household. She loved every minute of it. Tonight she had decided to go Italian. She made homemade lasagna, a hearty salad, garlic bread and Dutch apple pie for dessert. Cooking was her favorite pastime, next to fixing people up. Norma Jean had been in the kitchen almost all afternoon. She was in her element.
“I’m going to need some help putting this extra leaf in the table,” her husband, Heathcliffe, said from the doorway.
“Okay, honey. Give me a minute.” She wiped her hands on her apron and went into the dining room.
“I hope this is the last thing on my honey-do list for a while—there’s a Lethal Weapon marathon on television.”
Norma Jean steadied her side, and her husband pulled his end. She helped him ease the table extender in place, and then they both pushed their sides back into place.
“Cliff, what does that have to do with anything?”
“I don’t want to miss the first one.”
“We have TiVo. Just record it.”
“I am, but I want to watch it now.”
She shook her head. “You are an exasperating man.”
Heathcliffe walked over and pulled her into his arms. He kissed her soundly. “That’s because you love me. If you didn’t, I wouldn’t get on your nerves half as much.”
Norma Jean chuckled, but her smile was huge. “That’s true. I was a goner the moment you asked to carry my lunch tray.” She sighed aloud at the memory.
“That’s not all I asked for,” he reminded her. “I believe I asked for a kiss on the cheek.”
“Yeah, but I wasn’t giving you that. You’d better be lucky I had lunch with you. Imagine asking me for a kiss like I was some vixen.”
“Well, you weren’t then, but you are now.” He winked and then left the room.
Norma Jean blushed and shook her head. “The things I have to put up with.” She returned to her kitchen, but there was a bounce in her step.
Two hours later, Adrian and Milán showed up.
“Mom?”
“In the den, honey.”
They took the containers they had brought with them into the kitchen and then returned to find his parents.
“What are you two doing?” Adrian asked when he spotted his parents on the couch watching television.
“Your father was all excited about the Lethal Weapon marathon.”
“Dad, why didn’t you just record it?”
“He did, but he wants to watch it now, anyway. Not like he hasn’t seen it a hundred times since 1987.”
“I love that movie,” Milán said after she had kissed both of them. She sat down next to Norma Jean. “You know, Adrian has the whole set on DVD, if you don’t want to bother with commercials.”
“And ruin my snack runs?”
