I’ve missed. Every possibility.
Bryn: I’m not even sure where to start, Mr. Smolder. But that is the most smoldering shot ever.
Logan: Yeah, right. I just woke up, my hair is a mess, and there is a cat on my head.
Bryn: Exactly. Your hair is sticking up in twenty-five directions, you’re wearing a cat, and you have Clark Kent glasses. Shut the front door.
Logan: The glasses are simply because I’m more farsighted than any thirty-two-year-old should be.
Bryn: The glasses are sexy. That’s all. Plain and simple.
Logan: So it wasn’t just the wine last night that had you sending me all those texts?
Bryn: Hush. I can hold my wine, thank you very much. It was not the wine talking then or now. You are endearing. Especially in those glasses.
My heart speeds up, slamming against my chest. Dangerously. But deliciously too. It’s like another light goes on, illuminating even more. I want all this light she’s bringing to me. This spark. This possibility.
Logan: Honestly, when I saw your first message this morning, I thought you were serious. That I was a liar. And I was scrambling to figure out what I could have lied about. Because I don’t want to be that guy. And I hate lies.
Bryn: Me too.
Logan: I know people say this, but I mean it. Honesty is the most important thing to me. I didn’t have it with Stacey. And I want to practice it. (Hence why I said what I said to you at Dr. Insomnia’s.)
Bryn: I’m with you, Logan. So, let me start by saying this—your face makes me happy. Your glasses are sexy and make you look real. And you are the easiest guy to talk to because nothing feels like a line. You sort of move fluidly between being smolderingly sexy and painfully blunt. And it’s wonderful.
Logan: Painfully blunt doesn’t sound wonderful.
Bryn: It is. I assure you, I like blunt. It’s such a welcome change.
Logan: Was your ex manipulative?
Bryn: He was . . . delightful and not delightful at the same time. Delightful and wonderful when I got to know him. But once we were together, he was wildly jealous.
Logan: In what way?
Bryn: He hated my job. He hated that I loved it. That it took me away from him. He didn’t like anything that took me away from him. He was one of those people who wants to consume you. And when my mother died and I didn’t have as much time for him, that’s when he had the affair.
Logan: Holy shit. Are you serious?
Bryn: I wish I weren’t. Actually, that’s not true. I’m glad I’m not with him. I’m thrilled. I’m so happy without him. But it hurt like hell to grieve that loss at the same time as a broken heart.
Logan: A double whammy. That’s terrible.
Bryn: It was. Death, and the death of a relationship.
Logan: You deserve so much better.
Bryn: Thank you. Do you wish things were different?
Logan: I feel the same as you. I’m happy now, but I also know what it cost to get here. The doubt, the anger, the unhappiness. I was angry for a long time, like a storm cloud followed me around. I channeled it in ridiculous ways, like playing paintball aggressively. Like trying to beat the team of the guy who cheated with my ex. It was silly.
Bryn: It actually sounds kind of healthy. Maybe it was productive in its own way?
Logan: Maybe . . . or maybe it was how I dealt with the whole “was it my fault” question that plagued me.
Bryn: That’s the worst part of being cheated on. Those dark days when you wonder what you did wrong.
Logan: And the answer is nothing. It’s not your fault, and you didn’t do anything to deserve it. But you can’t get there till you go through it.
Bryn: Teagan said that to me when I lost my mom—you can’t get to the other side until you go through it. I think it applies just the same. She’s been through some hard stuff in life.
Logan: I believe that too. You don’t want the bad stuff, but it’s life. It happens, and you just have to learn from it. Learn what you want in life and learn what you don’t.
Bryn: What do you want?
A few months ago, I might not have known the answer. As I study her question, the answer is as bright and clear as my world this morning.
Logan: Honesty. Trust. Great sex. And laughter.
I pause as I stare at the last message before I hit