Things Logan noted weren’t working and he immediately fixed them.
In ways that I hadn’t noticed, life was kind of a bummer, having to do these things myself, I didn’t miss how the additional ways having Logan back made life not a bummer.
And it was strange, since back when we were together he didn’t do any of this stuff. He might take out the trash (if I asked). He might help me unload the dishwasher or do the dishes (if I asked). But mostly, I took care of him.
He took care of me, but not in those ways.
Now he was taking care of me in those ways.
There was something about this that made weird mix in with the wonderful because I knew that he was probably like this because when we used to be together, we were young and neither of us knew any better. We’d found our way, a way that worked, but maybe, looking back, it wasn’t the right way.
He’d learned to be that way through Deb and having a family.
You grew up, you grew smart, you had a partner, you made babies, you pitched in.
I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d had him all that time, since we couldn’t have a family of our own, if he’d have learned all this or if he’d have just gone on letting me take care of him (which might end up being a pain in the ass).
In other words, I wondered if I had Deb (and the girls) to thank.
In the end, what I came up with was the fact that life as a whole mixed weird with wonderful because I’d never know the answers to my questions. I just knew I had that new part of Logan now, no matter how he learned it, no matter that I likely did have Deb (and the girls) to thank. It just was.
And it was mine.
“Demolition crew.”
When Logan spoke, I jerked out of my thoughts and looked to him to see he had his jeans up and was bent to nab his thermal off the floor.
“Demolition crew?” I asked.
He was pulling on his shirt while walking swiftly around the bed. “Take down your garage.”
Oh.
Right.
He’d mentioned that but I’d forgotten it was today.
I’d forgotten because the girls were coming that night for dinner. I was making beef Stroganoff. And I was again a little nervous.
Just in time, I turned my head so when Logan bent in to give me a peck, I got it on my lips before the doorbell rang again and he was off to go answer it.
I reached out, turned on a light, and swung my legs off the side of the bed.
I was brushing, wondering how my neighbors were going to feel about a demolition crew starting work at six in the morning, when Logan walked into the bathroom.
“Coffee started. Cats fed. They’re movin’ their shit out back. Goin’ back there to make sure they know what they’re doin’,” he informed me.
I nodded.
He looked me top to toe to eyes, taking in my jammies, my bedhead, and the sonic toothbrush in my mouth.
“Only bitch on the planet who can brush her teeth and make me wanna fuck her while she’s doin’ it,” he remarked.
I narrowed my eyes, pulled my toothbrush out of my mouth—the movement of the head splattering spit, paste, and foam everywhere—and snapped a frothy, “Don’t call me a bitch.”
He grinned like I was highly amusing and disappeared.
I shoved my brush back into my mouth, looked back into the mirror, stopped scowling, and kept brushing but did it grinning.
* * *
The door to my studio opened and the alarm didn’t sound.
It didn’t sound because Logan was on the premises, making sure the demolition crew did what he was paying them to do but also keeping his eye on me.
So the only sound I got when Logan opened the door and stuck his head in was, “Babe.”
“Yeah?” I asked.
“Got a second?”
I didn’t. I had to leave in fifteen minutes to meet a corporate client, a law firm that did three to four parties a year, all with me, and they were gearing up for their annual holiday party.
“Sure,” I said, rolling my chair back and getting up.
As I walked his way, Logan treated me to another appreciative top to toe glance, cementing what was already firm in my mind.
He didn’t need halter tops and cutoff shorts.
He just needed me.
I was already feeling warm and happy inside when I got close and he reached out, took my hand, and pulled me out into the chill, something that incongruously made me feel warmer.
“You gonna be okay without a jacket?” he asked as he shut the door.
No way I could get a chill hand in hand with Logan.
And anyway, I had on a sweater. I’d be okay.
I nodded.
Logan kept hold of my hand as he walked me through my courtyard to the gate to the backyard.
The minute we were through the gate and moving across the bricked patio toward the steps that led us down the terraced backyard to the lower bricked patio, I saw over the fence at the end of the yard that the garage was gone.
As I saw it, I also marveled at the change it made.
It had been an eyesore. I’d always planned to knock it down and put a decent garage there so I didn’t have to scrape my windshield in the winter.
Currently I parked in the courtyard even though, beside the garage, I had a parking space in the back and parking in the courtyard messed with the vision of the courtyard, one that included (eventually) getting a fountain. But parking way out back just never seemed safe, walking through my dark backyard to get to my house. Not to mention, lugging groceries would be a pain.
Nevertheless, scraping windshields in the Colorado cold was more of a pain, so I’d wanted a garage. It was the last big project and I hadn’t done it because any project I did I did paying cash and I hadn’t saved enough to put in the garage.