I Love You, I Hate You: Part 2

“So, how was your date?” Sarah asks early the next morning. She sits on the couch beside me, a bowl of oatmeal in hand.

Molly’s watching Vamperina, her newest obsession on Disney+ since we moved here. She plays with her doll, humming the show’s theme song. I wish she would sing or even whisper something. She hasn’t said a word since meeting Logan and I’m dying to hear my daughter’s voice again.

“Not even worth talking about.” I take a sip of my coffee. Before Molly was born, I never drank the stuff. I was also vegan ninety-eight percent of the time. Now, I’m a stupid picky meat eater who prefers vegetables that consumes coffee and tea by the gallon.

Sarah winces. “That bad?”

“The worst part was when Travis kissed me; it was like kissing my brother. It was awkward and there was absolutely no spark. When his hand slid up my thigh I thought I was going to puke in his mouth.” I lay my head in her lap and hold a throw pillow to my chest. “What is wrong with me?”

Sarah sets her bowl of oatmeal on the end table and runs her fingers through my hair. “Nothing. You are perfect. When the right guy comes around, you’ll feel that fire again.”

“Maybe I’m broken.” I hold the pillow tighter. Unshed tears sting my eyes, but I refuse to cry. I spent too many nights crying over Logan the last four years. “The only time I’ve feel anything towards a man is when I’m with Logan. That feeling, the pull to be near him, the fire with his touch, it was all there at the wedding and it’s there every time I see him. Why can’t I find that with someone else?”

Sarah doesn’t say anything, just twists strands of hair into tiny braids. When a second episode of Vamperina starts, she says, “He was here last night, waiting for you to get home.”

I roll onto my back and look up at her. “Who?”

“Logan.” She drops the locks she was working on and grabs her bowl again. “He brought his guitar and legit sang Molly to sleep last night. I didn’t even know he played!”

“Ever since high school.” I roll onto my side. Logan never explicitly played for me, but I still remember listening through his bedroom door. I remember thinking he had talent. I’m not surprised to hear he still plays.

“And as Molly started to fall asleep, he played an original. Oh. Em. Gee. Dani, it was so beautiful. You have to get him to play it for you.”

“Sounds wonderful.” Logan will never play his guitar for me. He didn’t when we were together in high school. Why would he now? Especially since he probably hates me for keeping Molly from him all these years.

“Anyway.” Sarah must have finished her breakfast because the spoon clinks in the bowl. She sets it on the end table again and begins twisting my locks some more. “He hung out until eleven, probably would have stayed later too, but I convinced him you weren’t coming home last night. Kinda became a dick after that and left.”

“Of course he did,” I mumble, one-hundred percent not surprised. Logan was always the jealous type, even when we were kids. That’s part of the reason he and I sat alone at lunch in middle school.

“And maybe he said he would be here in five minutes,” she blurts in one breath.

“What?” I push myself up so fast my head spins. “What do you mean he’ll be here in five minutes?”

Sarah shrugs. “I told Logan he could take Molly out to breakfast.”

“That wasn’t your call to make, Sarah!” I hop off the couch and run up the stairs to get changed. Not that I care what Logan thinks, but I am not about to be caught with hobo hair in my PJ’s. In my room, I barely have enough time to throw on a dress and pull my hair into a messy bun before the doorbell rings. Molly’s at the door before I’m down the steps. Her sweet voice excitedly yelling, “Daddy!”

My heart squeezes. I want that. I want the bond she’s formed with Logan. I’ve been in her life for four years. He’s been here three weeks and has accomplished more than I have. It sucks. I stop in the hallway and plant my hands on my hips. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, look. You’re home.” Logan’s accusatory tone doesn’t go unnoticed. Molly looks up at him, one brow arched. He softens his expression and kneels down to Molly’s level and puts his hands on her hips. “Why don’t you ask Aunt Sarah to help you with your shoes? Mommy and I are going to step outside and talk. Okay?”

Molly nods and turns to leave but Logan holds her in place.

“Baby?” he asks, earning Molly’s puppy dog look. She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth and looks up at him. “Can you tell me you understand by saying, okay?”

Molly swallows hard but nods. “Oh... oak...okay, Daddy.”

A knot forms in my throat, drowning me in more tears I refuse to shed. Logan’s smile reaches his ears. He pulls Molly into a hug and she rests her cheek on his shoulder. I feel like an outsider, watching a private moment I’m not welcome in. He pats Molly’s back and lets her leave the room then stands and points to the front door. I follow him out, feeling like a child who’s about to get scolded.

“How did you

do that?” I ask.

“I told Molly about how I had trouble talking when I was her age. Described how hard it was to make the words I wanted to say come out and explained why she can’t stay in a comfortable silence forever.”

“Isn’t that a little deep for a four-year-old?”

Logan ignores my question and answers it with one of his own. “How was your date?”