I sighed deeply and looked up at the ceiling. I would never know how Ian did it, but he could always hone in on the one thing I didn’t want to talk about. He had a sixth sense for things like that.
“What old flame?” I asked evasively. Ian snorted on the other end of the phone and I knew he didn’t buy it.
“Talk to Ian sweetie,” he said, putting on his therapist voice. “Come on. Tell me everything.”
“Ugh,” I said. “Ian, there really isn’t much to tell. I saw him. Logan. I ran away. He found me. We talked. He ran away. The end.”
“That is so not the end,” Ian criticized. “You saw him. Logan. For the first time in years and that’s all you have to say about it. Please.”
“Don’t push this, okay?” I begged.
“Piper, I only do this because I love you,” Ian reminded me.
“I know you do, but…”
“And because I love you,” he interrupted. “It is my job to help you deal with these things. I can’t do that if you don’t talk to me about it.”
“What makes you think I need help dealing with it?” I demanded.
“Honey, we both know you can’t be trusted to do this on your own.”
“Okay,” I said. “Fine.”
“Thank you.”
“Well,” I began, moving a step forward in line. “He came to my uncle’s wake. He just walked right in wearing a black suit and…”
“How did he look?” Ian asked.
“Handsome,” I said. Even I knew that was an understatement. “Amazing, actually.”
“Swoon,” Ian cooed. “Continue.”
“He walked in. We made eye contact and I bolted. I just ran out of there as fast as I could. I didn’t stop running until I made it two streets over.”
“Why?” Ian asked. His tone suggested I was certifiably insane.
“Because I’m chicken shit. I couldn’t face him,” I explained. “Not after everything.”
“But you said you talked?” Ian asked. “Did he follow you? Oh my god, did he run after you? Because that would just melt my heart.”
“No, he didn’t follow me,” I scoffed. “That’s not Logan’s style.”
“Maybe it wasn’t five years ago, but you don’t know what his style is now.”
“I guess that’s true,” I shrugged. “But, in any case, he didn’t follow me. I went back to the pub and found my mom. Everyone else was gone, so I decided to walk home. Logan found me in the town square.”
“What did he say?” Ian demanded.
“Nothing important,” I said, rolling my eyes again. “This isn’t a love story, Ian. You aren’t going to be able to live vicariously through me on this one.”
“I refuse to believe that,” Ian said dismissively. I could almost see him waving his hand impatiently. “What did he say?”
“He said he was sorry for my loss, that it was good to see me, that I looked beautiful… that kind of thing.”
“Swoon!” Ian said again.
“Don’t do that!” I snapped. “He didn’t mean it. He was just playing into some script in his head that he’s been carrying around. Logan left me, remember?”