Page 18 of Landing Her Eagle
She shakes her head. Not a good sign. Crap.
She’s still shaking her head, her shoulders slumped. “Logan, it’s late. I don’t want to talk about this now. I need to get to bed so I’m not a zombie at work tomorrow. Can we discuss it when I get home tomorrow night? It’s been a long day, and I’m beat.”
I’d rather discuss it now so we can hash it out and move on, but Daphne’s tired. She’s had a lot sprung on her today. If I push to talk now, she’ll dig in her heels, and I won’t like the results. Where I’m a face-things-head-on-and-fix-it-all-now type of person, Daphne needs time to process everything and decide on her own. Could I say and do the right things to get her to do what I want eventually? Yeah, probably. But I will not manipulate her. That’s an asshole thing to do. This is long-haul stuff, not just a right-now solution.
I pull her toward me and wrap my arms around her waist. I rest my chin on the crown of her head. After a moment, I feel her arms circle around my waist, and she rests her cheek against my chest.
She presses a kiss over my heart and gazes up at me. “I don’t want to fight with you.”
I give her a gentle squeeze. “Oh, Daph. We aren’t fighting. We’re figuring out. Let’s go to bed, and we’ll talk about it tomorrow.”
She smiles and stretches up to kiss me. Our lips cling to each other, but we don’t deepen the kiss.
She pulls back first and gives me a soft smile. “Okay, you’re right. We’ll talk about it tomorrow. Good night.” With a quick peck, she pulls from my arms and goes to her bedroom.
And closes the door.
I guess I’m sleeping in the other bedroom? Yeah, this was not how I was expecting this night to go. I turn off the TV and the lights in the living room and kitchen, grabbing my pillow and blanket as I go. I’ll need them on my lonely bed tonight.
15
DAPHNE
What are we doing?Why am I in here alone? I turn and open my door in time to hear the click of Logan’s door closing. Okay, I guess I’m in here by myself. Nothing new with that. I’m always alone. I’m always going to be alone. I ease my door closed again. The creak of the bed when Logan sits on it sounds so loud in the quiet house. We share a wall, with our headboards inches apart. It feels like a million miles separating us, not just a few two-by-fours and drywall. I climb into bed and make sure I set the alarm on my phone. Normally, I’d play an audiobook or one of my favorite music playlists as I drift off to sleep, but Logan will hear what I play, and I don’t want to keep him awake. No reason for us both to be awake all night.
I stare up at the ceiling. What a day. So much has happened. Never in a million years when I set off this morning to visit the remaining lighthouses did I expect to see Logan and have him tell me he wants to be with me. Or to spend the night cuddling and kissing him. Or for him to ask me to pick up and go to Europe. It hasn’t even been eight hours since we met at the Cape May Lighthouse. How has my life changed so much in such a short time span?
Of course, isn’t that the way it happens with me? My life gets upended in a moment, and then I have to deal with it. At least this time it isn’t a loss. This is a good thing. Right?
Yes, this is a wonderful thing. He says he cares about me and wants to be together. He’s here for a week, and then he’s gone again until December. We’ll be apart more than we are together. Is the plan that we’ll be friends with benefits when we’re on the same continent and only friends when we’re apart? Is this one week together the start of something long-term or just an experiment? If I only get him for a week, I’ll take it, but I need to protect myself. No being swept away. No sex. NoI love you. My world won’t be destroyed when he leaves me. This time I’m going to be prepared. I couldn’t prepare for a drunk driver leaving me an orphan, but I can prepare for Logan to break my heart. It will hurt, but it’ll be worth it to experience being the one he wants, even for a few days.
I roll to my side and punch my pillow to get it right. I settle my head and sigh.
I whisper, “Goodnight, Logan.”
Logan’s voice drifts through the drywall. “Goodnight, Daph. Sleep well, sweetheart.”
His words thrill me even when whispered through a wall, and I smile into my pillow, pressing my hand flat against the headboard as if I can reach him that way.
This needs to be okay. I’m not sure I can handle it if it’s not.
* * *
Fumbling to shut off my alarm before it wakes Logan next door, I’m shocked I fell asleep. I thought for sure sleep would elude me. I toss back the covers and head to the connected bathroom. I take the time to shave my legs and other areas now that there’s a chance someone is going to see them. I don’t go full-on Chewbacca—not that there’s anything wrong with that—but I don’t shave every single day. My stomach growls, but I take my time getting ready. I’m not worried about setting fashion trends, but for the first time, I dread facing Logan.
Okay, time to be brave. I grab my purse and phone. The delicious scents of breakfast cooking greet me as I open my bedroom door. I wasn’t expecting Logan to be up this early, but I guess it makes sense he’s awake. His body clock most likely hasn’t adjusted to East Coast time yet. It would be early afternoon in Europe now, and he’d be up and working unless he had a night shoot the prior evening.
I follow the scents of bacon and coffee into the kitchen. The coffee is for him. I’m a tea drinker, but I hope there’s bacon for me. I take a moment to appreciate the sight of a sleep-rumpled Logan standing at my stove in his T-shirt and flannel pants. He’s barefoot. It’s crazy, but the casualness of him being barefoot and the domesticity of him cooking for me makes my tummy flutter. And not from hunger. Well, not hunger for food.
“Hey, sunshine. I was about to knock on your door.” Logan leans in to give me a sweet kiss as I sidle up next to him at the stove, where he’s scrambling eggs with ham and shredded cheese. “I don’t think I’ve seen you in yellow before. You’re so pretty. Like a cheery ray of sunshine.”
I put four slices of bread in the toaster to accessorize our eggs and bacon. “I love this color, but it’s not the best color for me to wear. I saw it in the store on sale and thoughtscrew itand bought it, anyway.” I shrug. “It makes me happy, and I decided that’s good enough.”
“Well, to me, you’re beautiful no matter what you wear. All I want is for you to be happy, so say screw it all you want. I’m quite the fan of screwing, actually.” An exaggerated, lascivious wink accompanies that statement.
I plate the toast and walk to the breakfast bar, shaking my head and blushing. “You’re ridiculous, you know that, right?” I set the toast on the counter and rummage in the fridge for the grape jelly Logan likes on his toast. I grab another butter knife from the drawer. We need separate knives for the butter and the jelly—we aren’t barbarians. The rest of the silverware is already at our seats. He carries the plates holding our bacon and eggs to the counter and slides into the seat next to mine. My tea is just how I like it and the perfect temperature. I take a bite of the expertly cooked bacon and moan.
I rest my head against his bicep and sigh. “I could get used to this. I usually heat up a couple of waffles or get a toasted bagel from Wawa if I have to stop for gas. This is quite the treat.”
