Page 4 of Mine

“I know.” He pouts. He walks over to me and places his hands on both sides of my head. His fingers thread through my hair. “It’s my turn to take inventory this week and Max wants me to teach the new sous chef how we do it for when I’m not there.” Logan extends his arm, gently placing his fingertips on my elbow. “Sorry, Len.”

“It’s okay.” I shrug, unable to look Logan in the eye. I don’t want him to see the disappointment in mine.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m proud of where Logan is in his career. Back in Providence, he worked as a server at a prominent upscale restaurant, Bar Americano. The circumstances in which I had first seen Logan were ones I wish didn’t exist. Bar Americano was my ex-boyfriend, Julian’s, favorite restaurant. He used to tell me it showed others how high our status was in society. It reminded people that we were better than them. In hindsight, Julian’s incessant need to go to Bar Americano, at least once a week, was what led me to find Logan in the first place. Since moving out to Washington, Logan has done everything in his power to follow his dream of becoming a chef. Now that he has finally become head chef at one of Seattle’s best restaurants, he’s actively trying to prove to the owner how capable he is of working the restaurant without Max there. It’s Logan’s dream to run a restaurant of his own one day and I haveno desireto hold him back from his dreams, even if mine haven’t been so easily obtained. Logan being tasked with showing the new sous chef how to take inventory is just another step to earning Max’s trust in Logan.

“I know I’m busy today but maybe I can come home for lunch. You aren’t swamped with clients, are you?” Logan’s already standing on the other side of the kitchen, reaching for his keys sitting on the counter.

I pause, swallowing the thin film of coffee coating my mouth. “Um, no. I have one design to finish up for a hair salon in Tennessee then I have a meeting with a new client at three this afternoon. I told her I would meet her at the coffee shop in town.”

“Sounds like we have a date then.” Logan gives me that same smile that stole my heart from the day we met. The way the right side of his mouth curled slightly higher than the left. The way the dimple in his left cheek deepened even further. His smile used to make my thighs tense and my skin ignite. Over the past year, Logan and I have been able to keep the momentum going in our marriage. But then there are days like today where I feel stuck. Stuck in a life haunted by the memories of the life I had before this one.

“It’s a date.” I give Logan a reassuring smile. He’s still grinning at me, the dimple still indenting his left cheek. Sometimes I wish Logan didn’t have to go to work and I didn’t have my meetings with clients. Sometimes I envision a life where both of us could lock ourselves away, tangling ourselves beneath the safety of our bedsheets and each other’s arms. Some days I missed Logan’s love, most days I craved it.

Less than a year ago, when Logan and I first settled in Washington, I needed to find a way to make money.

In the beginning of mine and Julian’s relationship, he was kind and admired the fact that I loved art as much as he did. But over time, the supportive Julian I had fallen in love with began to change. He slowly started to become controlling and condescending. I had a passion for graphic design, but Julian believed it was a lesser form of art. It quickly drove a wedge in our relationship and over time I started to resent him for it.

I didn’t want my art to be in museums. I wanted my art to be displayed for others. I wanted it to mean something to someone, personally.

Because of Julian’s manipulation, I decided to take back my passion for art, to take back what was originally mine. I knew I always wanted to turn my love for graphic design into a business and now that Julian was out of my life, I could finally take it back. Therefore, L Moore Designs was born. Before I had left Providence, the drive to start my own design business began to grow and once we made it to Washington, I began offering design services for small businesses across the country.

Even though I’ve built my business from the ground up, there are days where the passion is lost on me. Some days my work feels automatic and sterile. The deep-rooted feeling reminds me of when I was sixteen and forced to help my dad file lawsuit documents in his office. Routine and boring.

It seems as if the same feeling has multiplied with every passing day. My demons simply haven’t vanished because I’m no longer in their presence.

An echo, more like a memory, of the pain I’ve experienced is forever ingrained in me. In fact, I think back on the last year of my life. Somehow, I had gone from the woman who was excited about the prospect of what her future held to hiding from my past, hoping it wouldn’t catch up with me, finding a way to kill me.

The day after finding the note inside Logan’s apartment, we drove as fast and far as we could. Abruptly leaving the place I had called home has left a permanent scar that will forever weigh down on me. Guilt has become a constant force in my life. I’d left my family without a word. I’d left Abby without a word. As the days pass, I miss them more than I did the day before. There were many difficult choices Logan and I had to make in our attempt to escape and not a day goes by where I don’t remember them. I’ve also tried to come to terms with my decision to leave Providence. Was it the right one? Has it really changed our false sense of security? Probably not.

As time moves on and it seems as if life passes me by the line between right and wrong becomes even more blurred than the day before.

Despite the constant state of fear I’ve been living under, there is one person in my life, holding me together. Logan. If there’s one thing I don’t regret about this past year, it’s marrying him.

My life changed the day we left Providence. It also changed because it led me to marry Logan. We were halfway across the country, driving through the northern portion of Missouri when we had seen a billboard for a wedding chapel. I’d found the billboard odd and out of place. I’d always assumed quick ceremony wedding chapels were only found in Las Vegas. The kind where you walk in as the other couple walks out and the officiate is an Elvis impersonator. The tall flashing sign looked out of place in the middle of rural Missouri but when Logan and I caught ourselves eyeing the billboard as we passed it, we turned to one another and smiled. Logan’s mouth spread into a wide grin as he took the exit to the small chapel off the highway.

I never regretted the moment I said those two words. “I do.” Luckily, our Justice of the Peace wasn’t an Elvis impersonator and we didn’t have to stand in line, waiting for our turn to be married. It may not have been how I’d pictured marrying the man I love but looking back on it now, I wouldn’t have married Logan any other way.

But sometimes life isn’t always what it seems. Although Logan is an incredibly supportive husband, I’ve perfected the skill of keeping my demons to myself.

Logan’s eyes shine against the orange morning sun pouring through the window and he’s looking at me like I’ve just lifted a heavy weight from his shoulders by agreeing to have lunch with him. He misses the old Lena and I know it. Every day he tries to pull me out of my deep-rooted funk, his hand constantly outstretched, waiting for me to grab on.

He’s now standing at the end of the kitchen, ready to leave. I cross the room and meet him. His hand immediately slides against my waist, pulling me close. He doesn’t speak. He simply holds me.

“I’m sorry I’m so out of it this morning.” I sigh and look up at him, my arms wrapped around his waist.

“You can talk to me about it if you like.” His voice is low, cautious. He knows he’s tiptoeing across a topic that can easily add to the fractures already buried in my mind. He places his lips to my forehead and it’s the warmest feeling I’ve ever felt.

I slide my tongue across my teeth, considering his offer. How can I tell my husband that my ex-boyfriend still haunts my thoughts and lives in my dreams? I don’t like to talk about Julian. Especially to Logan.Especially to Logan.Over the past year, we promised one another to never speak of him again. We refused to let him enter our lives again, to intervene in our relationship. Recently, no matter how much time has passed, I still think of him. It also seems like the more time that has passed, the more I feel like Julian is still present in my life.

But having lived through what Julian did to Logan, how could I possibly bring myself to confess how he still haunts my thoughts and lives in my dreams? How do I tell him that I’m worried the note was only the beginning?

“It’s okay.” I shake my head and unravel myself from around his body, resigning to keep my secrets to myself. Logan doesn’t need to worry about me. “It’s nothing.”

“Right.” His mouth presses into a thin line and his chest falls. It’s as if the relief I gave him only moments ago has completely disappeared. His chest puffs out as he takes a deep breath. He knows I’m lying but doesn’t fight me on it. “I’ll text you when I’m on my way home.”

After placing a kiss on my cheek, Logan tells me he loves me then leaves the kitchen and heads for the front door. I listen as Logan punches in the code to our security system. When we moved into the house, it was already set up with a basic alarm system, one that monitored all the doors and windows to our house. It came with an app that told you when the system was armed and disabled.

After he’s gone, I turn back to the window and the sad, worn-out shed sitting in my back yard.

---