Page 9 of Paging Dr. Summers
But it was more than that. There was just something so familiar about him I couldn’t put my finger on. Maybe that was why I had been brave enough to ask him if he wanted to eat dinner with me. It was probably idiotic, given our brief but strange history. But it just felt right.
When I’d gotten home the night before and binged some of the incredible cookies Eden had helped me make, and which I hoped I could recreate on my own, I got to thinking about my mom and why she really wanted me to come to Aspen Lake. Part of me cursed her for it. But then a memory of a song hit me: “Take It to the Limit.”
That song held a lot of meaning for Mom and me. I was so inspired that I recorded a new podcast episode last night, edited it, and uploaded it. I’d been awake until the wee hours of the morning, but it was worth the lost sleep. That song and my mom’s accompanying advice had made me realize I wasn’t living my best life. I’d known that for a long time but was too afraid to do anything about it. Mom had known too. Even as sick as she was, she’d always known. So, she’d done what she always did for me and gave me a nudge in the right direction. Or maybe in this case a big push. It was a push I’d needed.
So, I decided last night I was going to take life to the limit, even if that meant talking to my insanely attractive neighbor. I was going to fulfill my summer bucket list to the best of my ability and learn why Mom thought Aspen Lake was so magical. I thought I would start by spending a few hours by the lake listening to some of Mom’s and my favorite songs while enjoying the evening sun and the gentle lapping of the water.
And now there I was, on the shore, “Dream On” playing on one of Mom’s old mixtapes. She thought mixtapes were the best way to listen to music because you had to work for it. None of those instant downloads for her.
And for a minute, I thought I was dreaming when I heard Logan say, “Is your dinner invitation still open?”
I sat up, and my eyes flew open to see Logan standing there wearing some form-fitting jeans and what looked like an old college sweatshirt, holding a high-tech telescope with a large tripod and shuffling his feet. The sun had set and only a shred of light appeared over the horizon.
“Uh, yeah,” I said, shocked. “Of course. Sure.” How many ways could I say yes?
“Great,” he said, relieved. “I was just thinking that your telescope didn’t look all that powerful.”
“Oh, I just ordered it online. I wasn’t sure what to get.”
“I have a good friend who’s an astronomer, and he recommended this one.”
“That’s fun. Is there an observatory around here?”
Logan adjusted the tripod and set it on the beach. “No. He’s from Seattle. That’s where I moved from. Mywifeand I lived there.” His voice hitched when he saidwife. Poor man.
“Eden mentioned you lost your wife last year. I’m so sorry.”
He grimaced.
“I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“It’s not your fault. My sister means well. I think she believes I should talk about Erica more and be more sociable.”
“Did Eden make you accept my invite?” I surmised, not able to come up with another reason for his reappearance. I wasn’t exactlybuying the telescope angle. In fact, I’d kind of gotten the feeling the night before that Eden believed I should besociablewith Logan too.
Logan chuckled. “She might have had something to do with it.”
“That’s what I thought.” I smiled, even though part of me was hoping he’d come back because he wanted to spend time with me.
“That sounded terrible. It’s not that I didn’t want to come back out here. It’s just I’m ...,” he trailed off, running a hand through his thick, gorgeous ash blond hair.
“You’re grieving.” I filled in the blank.
“Yes,” he said, relieved, like he was happy to get that off his chest. “And given all our strange interactions so far, I feel like I can say this to you. I’m not looking for ...” He cleared his throat, apparently not able to say it out loud.
I helped him out again. “You’re not looking for a fling.”
“Exactly. Or any kind of romantic entanglement right now.”
Romantic entanglement sounded good to me. It had been a long time since I’d been tangled up with anyone, and did I ever miss it. But despite how beautiful the doctor was, I certainly wasn’t looking to impede on a grieving widower’s time of mourning. Or to throw myself at him. Although maybe technically I already had. But that had been a horrible case of nerves talking.
“So, what are you looking for?”
He thought for a moment, consternation evident in the rising and falling of his shoulders and the way he stared out at the dark lake that reflected the night sky. He finally settled on, “Happiness, or at the very least, solace.”
I pulled my legs up and wrapped my arms around them, searching for the right thing to say. Mom would know. With that thought, her words came to me. “My mom used to say,‘The only way to get through grief is to do it out loud.’”
Logan tilted his head. “I’m not following.”
