Elizabeth Finn - Brother's Keeper

With those final words, he leans forward and kisses me gently on the forehead. Our waiter arrives and stands uncomfortably by, waiting for the eyes of our table to leave Logan and me and acknowledge his presence. Eventually, everyone at the table exhales a common breath and returns to the here and now.

We start to order drinks, but when Logan and I can’t seem to peel our eyes from each other, Ronnie interrupts the table. “You two don’t have to stay for dinner if you don’t want. I know you have plans tonight, and it might be better if you got on the road.” She’s obviously speaking to Logan, considering I have no idea what she’s talking about.

I can’t shake the feeling I know less about what is going on than everyone else at the table. With that, Logan thanks his mom and pulls me to my feet before throwing a quick "good night" at his family. Ronnie replies that they’ll see us tomorrow for lunch, and again I’m left confused and wondering what I don’t know about what is going on. But hey, what do I care? Logan is here with me, and my heart is at ease. For how long, I have no idea. For however long Logan stays in town, I suppose. But I have no intention of thinking about that at the moment.

As we exit the restaurant, he hands the valet his ticket before pulling me into his arms and attacking my mouth with his. He seals his mouth to mine, kissing me deeply and quite inappropriately for a public street. He appears not to care at all that people are passing by as he forces his tongue into my mouth, and my body radiates heat as he continues to consume me. When the valet soon returns with Logan’s Jeep, he reluctantly releases my mouth and opens the door for me. He tips the man and hurries to the driver’s door. When he pulls from the curb, he reaches for my hand, holding it tightly in his. I gaze at him as he moves through the traffic.

He occasionally looks over at me with a smile, and when he approaches a red light I start to question him. “Logan, where are we going?”

“Somewhere.” He smirks at me with a mischievous grin.

“Somewhere where ?”

“Just somewhere.” And as he glances over at me, he shakes his head slightly with a mild smile on his lips. “God, I can’t wait to make love to you.”

He returns his eyes to the road, and the light turns green. He’s left me with the most provocative words he could have said to me. He wants to make love to me. There was no argument behind what he said, no failed attempts at restraint, no hesitation. And as his Jeep heads out of town, my thoughts wander to what is in store for me. My body is already craving his touch. I’m wet and now eager, and as the minutes tick off the clock and the miles slip away, I start to think I might just lose my mind before we get wherever it is we’re going. But Logan keeps heading eastward. I try on a few occasions to get him to fess up, but he doesn’t give an inch. And I’m left to let my mind wander once again. I imagine his first touch, his taste, the sight of his body. It’s been so long since I’ve had any part of him other than his mouth, and I’m a frenzied wreck just thinking about it. I wonder if it will hurt as much this time as it did the last time. I’m sure it will, but I don’t care in the least.

The last time was so incredibly bittersweet. Making love to me was so obviously not what he had intended to do that night, but he gave in to my wishes. Why? A parting gift perhaps. Or just complete lack of control more likely. It was sad but incredible. I knew the entire time I was losing him, and making love was like some desperate attempt to hold him as tight as I could before I lost him forever. How is this night any different? I don’t know when he’s going back to Colorado, but it will, without a doubt, be soon. So how is this night going to be any different? I’m once again torturing myself with the truth. My internal dialogue is like the bearer of all unwelcome news, and she pops in every time I want to just forget about what is wrong with our situation. Why can I never just be content? Because, the bitch inside my head reminds me, this is fleeting. You’re practically his Michigan whore. My heart drops, and I know my night is doomed to be tormented with thoughts of being parted from him again. I resort to looking out the window at the passing countryside as the sky darkens. We are headed toward Ann Arbor, and as we approach the exits for my future home I half expect him to turn off. But he continues by each and every exit ramp.

And soon we’ve left Ann Arbor in the darkness behind us. Within fifteen minutes I can see the glow of the Detroit city lights. And as we approach the city I’m reminded that he’s probably just in town on business. I get it now. He’s taking me to his hotel room for the evening. I really am his Michigan whore. My mood is dropping with every passing second, and he must sense it as he squeezes my hand, appraising my somber face. We travel into the city, circumventing downtown out and along the river. It’s dark, and I’m not familiar enough with Detroit to know where exactly we could be going. I expect him to exit toward downtown, but it seems we’re moving on past downtown. Logan starts telling me about the historic old neighborhoods of Detroit that lie to the east of downtown. The Villages, as he calls them, are filled with old homes reminiscent of the Heritage Hills neighborhood of Grand Rapids. I can’t imagine why he’s telling me all of this now. It’s too dark for sightseeing, after all.

My mood has fallen, and as much as I’m eager to be with Logan, I’m confused and frustrated and resentful. I don’t want to be the girl he hooks up with when he comes to town on business. I don’t want to wish to see him all the time but accept seeing him only once in a blue moon. I’m not built for that and it makes my heart sink, because while I know I’ll give myself freely to him tonight, it will break my heart when I have to give him up again. Will I let myself be tortured like this forever? Will I ever be strong enough to say no to him?

We continue through residential streets lined with the old historic homes, but it’s hard to get a good feel for the place. And why should I care? From what I can tell it seems like exactly the type of neighborhood I would love—old, beautiful, huge trees, amazing architecture, but I just don’t care.

We eventually turn on one of many dark and quiet streets, and moments later, Logan is pulling into the driveway of an impressive two-story Arts and Crafts style house with a black iron fence in the front yard. It has a huge porch that runs the length of the front side of the house. One lamp is all that is on in what I assume is the living room. It is quiet and dark otherwise, and it really doesn’t appear that anyone is home. Logan parks and shuts the car off, saying nothing at all. He is still holding my hand, and as I turn to look at him he lifts my hand to his mouth and brushes a kiss along my fingers. I gaze back at him passively and defeated before finding my voice, choked with the emotion that has been building thanks to the nasty voice in my head so intent on ruining my evening.

“Why did you bring me here?”

“Because I wanted to show it to you.”

“Show me what? This house? Why?”

“Because it’s mine.”

For the second time this evening I’ve managed to shock her, and were she in better spirits I might be able to enjoy myself more. Her mood has been sinking since we left Grand Rapids, and the moment I saw the shift, all I wanted was to get her here. This home, the culmination of my giving up every last dream I thought I wanted, is now mine. There was never really any chance of my returning to Denver permanently after Rowan almost died. Truth be told, I’m not sure I wouldn’t have found a way back to her eventually once I fell in love with her.