They took five more steps. She counted the sound of their shoes on the damp ground. “Will.”
He cleared his throat. “He is my best friend. Has been since we were in our early twenties. But he isn’t good with this kind of thing.”
It was true. It was so true, and she felt disloyal agreeing with him. So she didn’t. “He just hasn’t had practice with it, but he tries.”
“He doesn’t know how to handle an unhappy ending,” Logan said. “Just letting you know. He’s one of those people that needs things to be a certain amount of okay, and if they aren’t, he can’t deal.”
“He’s my husband,” she said. “Not my friend. No offense. And nothing tragic has happened yet.”
“I know.” He paused for a second. “If you need anything, you know you can ask. You were there for me when Becca… You’ve been there.”
She let that settle over her like the mist. She didn’t want to be having this conversation. He was right. Will was an optimist, and she felt like she needed that. Most of the time. But she also felt like she’d been drowning in a sea of worst-case scenarios with no one to take her hand. That wasn’t fair. She hadn’t asked Will to. She didn’t know how to ask. That was her problem. That she didn’t know how to ask for what she needed because she didn’t have any idea what she needed, and how was that Will’s fault?
“Thank you. If I need anything, I’ll let you know.”
She expected him to go back to the house, but he didn’t. He just walked with her. There was a strange sort of restlessness that she felt. An urge to move closer, and to move further away all at the same time.
But she just kept walking in a straight line, and Logan walked along with her.
By the time the walk was over, she felt less alone than she had before.
TWELVE
Now
He didn’t wait for her to knock. He was the one who knocked.
She jerked the door open with her blanket wrapped tightly around her shoulders to preserve her modesty—and halfway over her head to conceal her bed head—and there he was, holding two coffee cups and a paper bag.
“It’s early,” she said.
“Yes, and we have a stop to make that I think you’re going to like, so let’s get a move on.”
“You said I could come wake you up.”
“But then you didn’t. And it’s time to go.”
“You said there was no time!” she protested.
“Yes, I lied.” He smiled.
“Feh,” she groused, shutting the door in his face and going back into the room. Most everything was packed away, and she had shorts and a tank top picked out for today and her most basic skin essentials out on the bathroom counter.
There was presumably no time to shower. Anyway, the idea of lingering beneath the hot water, naked, while he was just outside the door was a no for her.
She put her bra on, changed her underwear, stuffed her pj’s into her bag and then dressed the rest of the way, putting on some moisturizer and SPF, and putting her hair in the fastest of messy buns. Then she collected her bag and opened the door. She led with her outstretched hand.
“Coffee,” she demanded.
“Here you go.” He handed her the cup.
“What’s in the bag?”
“Breakfast burritos.”
“Yum.”
He turned and started walking toward the car.
