Yes, I knew I was pretty. I was self-confident enough to admit it, but I spent the majority of my adult life with one man, and when you're with the right man, after a while, every other man disappeared. Yes, I noticed them, in that I knew they existed, but no one could hold a candle to what I saw in Ethan.
I knew he felt the same. I’d see his eyes melt when I entered a room. I watch them flame in heat when we shared a bed, and felt them warm when he said “I love you”.
When Logan looked at me, did he see me in a similar way? Did he find me sexy?
Could I do sexy anymore? Wow, I was lame. Twenty-eight and I was asking myself if I could still be sexy. I used to be able to drive Ethan insane with a single arched brow.
"Shit, Leah is right. I do need to get out,” I said to no one, again.
Whatever it was, whatever I used to have that made Ethan go crazy...I needed that back.
Even if I didn’t use it. Even if it was just for me. I felt like I’d lost a part of me, the part that made me feel like a woman, and I needed it back to feel whole again.
~Logan~
"Did you grow up here?" I asked Clare, trying to keep my mind and my eyes occupied.
We had been in Maddie’s room for a few minutes now, moving furniture and pulling out the supplies that she had bought. Maddie’s room was exactly like the girl who lived in it - adorable. The walls were cotton candy pink with ballerina posters and family photos scattered everywhere. The quilt on her small bed was a life sized ballerina with an actual tulle tutu peeking out from the fabric. There were pointe shoes hanging next to the dresser and stuffed animals piled high in the corner next to a giant pink bean bag. It was a little girl’s paradise, and somehow I knew that Clare had spent hours picking out every detail in this room, making sure it was special and unique for Maddie.
Clare set Maddie up downstairs with a movie and a snack and told her the ballet barre would be even better if it was a surprise. Maddie had happily agreed, settling into the family room with a bowl of popcorn and some entertainment. Clare had changed into a pair of tight fitting yoga pants and a long sleeved V-necked shirt. Every time she bent down to pick up another toy, I had to look the other way to keep myself from sneaking glances down her shirt, or checking out her ass. She had a really nice ass.
I said I was trying. I didn’t say it was always successful. I am a guy after all.
"Yeah, my parents still live in the same house I grew up in a few miles away. I like this area of Richmond. It’s far enough away that we still have that small town vibe, but close enough that I can take Maddie downtown for the circus or a Broadway show when they come to town," she said, moving about the room with a familiar grace.
"How about you?" she asked. “I know you didn’t grow up here. But I don't know much beyond the last name. I mean, I know who you are. Leah told me that much, but I don't keep up much with gossip."
Ever since the divorce and the newspapers splashed my name everywhere, there were very few people who didn’t know my scandalous history. My father was known for his pristine reputation, and I’d sullied it. The papers had a field day.
"No, it's a relief. It makes introductions quite awkward when the person you’re meeting thinks they know more about you than you do yourself."
"Well then, why don't you tell me?" she suggested, with sincerity in her eyes.
Dear lord, what could I tell her that wouldn't scare her away?
Basics. I’d go with that.
"Well, I'm from the East Coast, New York mainly. Although I have lived in several other places while I was in boarding school. My father, well, gossip or no, I’m sure you know who my father is." Everyone knew who my father was. I hated talking about him. I hated talking about my family in general.
"I went to Yale for my undergraduate, then Harvard for medical school. I moved back to New York, where I finished my residency and began my career there. I, uh, got divorced and moved here about three years ago.”
That was the edited version of the story.
Continuing to measure the walls, I marked off where I needed to drill, and noticed a silence sweeping through the room. With my back turned, I could only imagine what she was thinking. I finished my markings and turned, looking up, and wondered what I said to make her so quiet. Had I scared her off already? Should I care this much if I did?
"Wow, that was a lovely resume you just told me, but how about we just cut the shit and get to some good stuff? I want to know the real you," she said smiling, offering up the challenge.
Shit, I'm in so much trouble
~Clare~
“Well. It's not like you've given me much in return,” he fired back, with a devilish grin.
He seemed astonished at first by my bold words. He wasn't the only one. I was still wondering what the hell had possessed me to demand he tell me more. He had just made me so angry. When he had been so relieved, saying that most people knew him before even meeting him, I thought maybe I would get the real Logan, something genuine. But all I got were generic resume facts about his life that anyone could find on Google. I felt a connection in that moment when he admitted something about the pressure of his life. I thought he had too, but then he had gone back to being the polished man he’d probably been raised to be. So out came my bold words and here we were.
“So, what do you have planned exactly? What do you want to know?” he asked, looking over his shoulder as he continued to work on the wall. Oh thank God he was doing this. It didn’t look too difficult, but I was pretty sure I would have already made several holes in the sheetrock.
I don’t know why but I wanted to know him, what was underneath that formal exterior. Seeing him again had solidified the connection I felt in that exam room and I knew he felt it too. But, he was pushing against it, and I didn’t know why. There was something in his past that kept him distant and I wanted to know what he was hiding under that well-formed exterior.
A plan emerged in my mind.
“Hold on, I'll be right back.” Smiling, I walked past him and headed for the kitchen. I couldn’t help but giggle when I saw his look of confusion as I walked past and exited the room.
When I returned, I held up two plastic bags in triumph.
“Jelly beans? You do know we're adults right?” he mocked.
“You may be, but I’m still deciding. Besides, one is never too old for candy. And these aren't just any jelly beans, these are Jelly Bellys. They're like candy crack.”
“Okay, so you've brought in a ton of sugar, and I’m supposed to bare my soul to you now?” he asked, amusement lighting up his face.