I Love You, I Hate You: Part 2

“And after?” I’m pushing my luck, asking questions I’m not ready for. I know what I want her to say but highly doubt the words will leave her lips. Still, I have hope.

“I guess we’ll see.”

Forty minutes later, we’re passing through the gate at my subdivision. I live about ten minutes from our parents, who live in my childhood home. Danika’s dad rented out his house last year after he proposed. It made sense. Mom had the bigger house, more suited for the unlikely holiday everyone was home.

Walter offered it to me, considering I spent more nights under his roof than in my own home, but I couldn’t take it. Staying there would have been a sweet form of torture. It reminded me of what I lost and probably would never find again.

I’m not talking about love. People find love over and over again. Your heart cracks a little with each breakup but it never truly shatters. I lost my best friend, my soul mate. The person I was inexplicably drawn to. When Danika disappeared on me, my heart didn’t just crack. Everything inside me shattered and it’s only when we’re together that I feel the shards begin to come together again.

I roll into my driveway and click the button to open my garage door. Danika’s knocked out, head pressed against the window, mouth open. It’s goddamn adorable.

I sit there and watch her for a minute, feeling like a full blown creep. After I don’t know how long, Danika’s eyes lazily open and she smiles. “Are we here?”

“Yeah, babe, we’re here.”

“Awesome.” She pushes the button to unclick her seatbelt. “I’m hungry.”

I get out and jog around the car to open Danika’s door. I hold out my hand for her, to help her up, and then wrap my arm around her waist. Last thing I want is for tonight to end in a hospital visit because she tripped over her own feet.

There’s nothing grand about my house. It’s your basic cookie-cutter, subdivision home with three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and an open layout. It’s more than I need, but I think deep down I always hoped someone would come along and tame my wild ways. I wanted a family one day, with kids and a dog.

Now, I want my family with my girl and my daughter. Too many years ago I promised myself I’d never stop fighting for Danika. In all the ways that mattered I had, up until she walked into that hotel. I didn’t expect to fall for her again, and I damn sure didn’t expect to learn I’ve been a father this whole time. Molly brings my “fight for my girl” promise to a whole new level.

Danika wiggles out of my hold and practically runs to my kitchen counter. “You have bagels?” she gasps, clutching the roll of round bread to her chest.

I grab two glasses from the cabinet and fill them with water from the fridge. “I take it you want one?”

Danika gives me a look that says I’m stupid and fumbles with the tie around the bag. “Bagels are the magic hangover food. You eat it before bed and poof, no hangover.”

“Good to know.” I set the cups on the counter and step back to the fridge for the tub of cream cheese. It’s vegan, like my butter. Back in the day I bought all vegan household staples in the event Danika decided to return to me. Now, I like the way they taste.

“You have Vialife!” Danika gasps reaching for a knife in the block on the counter.

“Easy there, killer.” I take the giant steak knife from her hand and set it back into the holder. I place my hands on her hips and guide her around the kitchen island to a bar stool.”Why don’t you let me do the late night snack making?”

Danika nods and spins in her seat, looking at my decor. “Your house is not at all what i expected.”

I set the plate in front of her and lean my elbows on the counter. “Oh yeah? What did you think you’d find?”

She shrugs and takes a bite. “I don’t know. Beer cans everywhere. Takeout boxes. Maybe a futon.”

“Eesh.” I grab the other half of her late night snack, earning the stink eye glare. “Way to stereotype me.”

“Well, Sarah says you’ve been single forever and Ryan told me you're basically a functioning alcoholic, so…”

All of which is true, but it sounds terrible leaving her lips. I cover my heart with my hands, exaggerating the ache I feel. “Ouch.”

Danika polishes off her half then adds, “Truth hurts.”

I follow Danika as she slides off the stool and ambles around my living room. She walks to one side of the house and peeks into the guest bedroom, which has never been slept in. “So, what do you want to do?”

“Look around.” She moves to the next door— the guest bedroom—and then the next—my office. She crosses through the living room again, stopping at my bedroom. She looks over her shoulder, waiting for me to object. When I don’t she opens the door and walks in.

My room is simple. Spotless. There are no dirty clothes piled on the floor, like when I was a kid. The two guitars I own hang on the wall, one on each side of my king sized headboard. I have a short, six-drawer dresser and a sixty inch TV mounted to the wall. Plain. Normal. Boring. “Not what you expected?”

Danika kicks her shoes off and leans against the footboard of my bed. “Logan?”

My heart races faster with each step. Being with Danika is like dancing around a fire. I have a feeling that tonight, I’m going to get burned.