Yum.
"That’s actually pretty amazing! It really does taste like a root beer float. What's your favorite?" he asked as he finished off his jelly beans, pulling me out of my edible Logan fantasy.
"Oh. Um. Tiramisu,” I answered quickly. “Chocolate and Coffee. It’s heavenly.”
Realizing I completely derailed out little game, I asked another question.
“So, how did a son of a stuffy billionaire learn to be so handy?”
He looked down at his hands, much too worn for his social status, and explained, “I don’t know. I guess I’ve always liked to work with my hands. When I was in college, I lived in a shit apartment, and was always having to make repairs, so I kind of just learned on the go.”
I was curious why a rich kid was living in the low rent apartments, but before I could ask, he gave me a smirk and fired back with a question for me.
“The other day, when I walked into the exam room, were you and your friend talking about me?”
Damn fair skin always gave me away. Before I could even open my mouth to respond, I was blushing, so instead I just stuffed it full of jelly beans, bypassing the entire question and committing candy treason at the same time.
“I knew it!”
“That was incredibly embarrassing,” I admitted, after I swallowed my handful of jelly beans.
“I can safely say I was not embarrassed in the least. Made my night, in fact,” he taunted.
“All right, it’s my turn again.”
In agreement, he nodded and waited for his question.
"When you're alone, away from the hospital and everything else, what do you do for yourself?" I asked. I hoped this question wouldn’t be bypassed with jelly beans. I really wanted to get a glimpse of the real Logan. He was very polished on the outside, giving the image of a carefree young doctor, but it’s a totally fake persona. I could see the frayed edges, and the fine lines of imperfection left by years of emotional trauma. Maybe no one else noticed because he was so adept at covering them up, or just kept everyone at a safe distance. But I saw them for what they were, scars from a damaged past. Life had left me with my own set of damage and scars, but I knew where mine came from. A life lost. What had earned him the battle wounds he so expertly hid from the world?
"I play the guitar," he answered.
I hadn’t expected that one. I half expected him to pass on the question.
"How long have you played?" I asked, watching him as he stared out the window at the trees that lined the property.
"Since I was fourteen. My father believed every child should play an instrument so I was put in violin lessons when I was ten with a top notch instructor. I was terrible," he paused while I held my breath, afraid any movement might stop him from continuing.
"To avoid further embarrassment, my father ended my lessons and hired a tutor to teach me piano, which I did marginally better at. At least, enough to satisfy my father’s requirement. Around the age of fourteen, thinking it would up my cool points at school, I asked if I could learn to play the guitar. You would have thought I'd asked if I could visit Satan in Hell. Obviously, his answer was no, and because I had asked, he figured I got the crazy idea from a bad influence at school. So, I was pulled out mid-year and switched to a new boarding school in a new state," he sighed, obviously still annoyed as he relived the memory.
“Your dad pulled you out of school because you asked to play the guitar?” I thought my dad was strict when he didn’t let me date until I was fifteen. I had nothing on Logan.
"Yes. My father’s unique.” He didn’t elaborate. Apparently the “Daddy file” was closed for the day.
“My new roommate Colin, who is still my best friend to this day, taught me to play that first year I was at Milton. He was probably the reason I survived." A ghost of a smile appeared across his face, and then chuckled.
“So, did it make you any cooler?” I asked.
“Colin helped with that. He sounds like a moron and can play every sport imaginable. But, he’s a goddamn genius. He took me under his wing, and yeah, I did all right.”
I sensed a bit of regret when he spoke of Colin and I wondered if it was a new or old regret, and if there was something currently going on between the two men.
"I don't think I've ever told anyone that," he admitted.
"Jelly beans, they're worse than booze. Okay, your turn. Ask me anything. Make it a good one," I challenged.
"Your name. I'm always curious about names, where they came from or how they were chosen. I noticed yours is spelled differently, is there a reason?" he asked, stretching to full height again to return to the wall, making the finishing touches to the ballet barre. He even picked up a mirror at the hardware store to put behind it so she could see herself as she twirled around. It was a very thoughtful touch. One I hadn’t even thought of myself.
"Yes, actually. It’s quite a good story. My parents honeymooned in Ireland. County Clare to be exact. They spent two weeks there and it was apparently a very successful trip because when they returned, Mom was pregnant with me. To commemorate their honeymoon, they named me Clare."
"Have you ever been there?"
"Where? To Ireland?"
He nodded.
"No, I’ve always wanted to. Ethan and I..."
I stopped, mid-sentence, growing still. I had not mentioned Ethan yet. I hadn’t even told him I was a widow. I mean, I guess he assumed by now. But saying the words out loud to him made me suddenly conscious of what I had been doing the past hour. Flirting. In my house that I used to share with my husband. I didn’t know how to feel about that. Should I feel guilty? Or relieved I had taken a step toward moving on? Was it moving on?
"Was Ethan your husband?" he asked quietly.
I nodded silently, still thinking about my sudden realization.
"How did he, I mean...how long ago?" he stumbled over his words, before taking a few careful steps toward me.
"Almost three years. Brain cancer. Maddie was barely two," I managed to say.
"I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm sure you've heard that more times than you can count. What I can say is that from what I've seen, you've done an amazing job surviving. Maddie is a bright, kind hearted little girl. She can capture the heart of just about anyone in two seconds flat."
Letting out a tiny laugh of nervousness, I began fiddling with the hem of my t-shirt, trying to figure out what to say.
"Thank you. For everything, I mean. I know you probably had other things that needed to be done today and you –“