The Promises We Keep (Made for Love Book 1) (63 page)

But then I don
’
t do anything.

Why?

Because I don
’
t believe I
’
m any closer to being ready to get married to her than I was before. That
’
s not fair, right? Not to mention the feeling I get when I think I might break and just ask her to come back to me anyway
—
it
’
s as if I
’
m giving God the finger; suddenly
screw IT
translates to
screw YOU
and Your plan because it sucks and I don
’
t understand it.

Did I mention the toilet paper stuck to the bottom of my shoe is covered in crap? Because that
’
s how bad this is. Jack, who insists I
’
m going through some form of male PMS, has kicked me out of the apartment.
Okay, that
’
s an exaggeration. He told me I needed to get out and get some fresh air because he was afraid our apartment was too small to contain me when I finally detonate.

He
’
s probably right, which is why I
’
m now wandering around Old Town all by myself. The late afternoon heat is dry and almost uncomfortable, but only almost so I try not to complain. I
’
m not sure why I decided to come here, of all places, aside from the fact that it reminds me of Addie. I guess that somehow puts me at ease. Maybe if I hold onto the good parts
—
the memories of us together
—
and push aside the bad parts
—
the agony of us apart
—
I
’
ll find the strength to keep pushing and keep seeking and keep growing into the man who
’
s ready for her.

I wonder how she
’
s doing? How she
’
s growing? What she
’
s learning?

God, what are you doing with her? I certainly hope You
’
ve gifted her with the peace and comfort that I lack.

“
Beckham?
”
I jump at the sound of my name as I
’
m startled out of my thoughts. I look around to see who might have called me.
“
Behind you,
”
she instructs me. I turn and see Logan standing with her hands on her hips as she smiles at me. Her blonde hair is down and swept behind her ears, which are adorned with dangly earrings. She
’
s wearing a tight, pale pink t-shirt that she
’
s dressed up with a high-waisted, cream colored, lacy skirt that flows only to her mid-thigh. I stop myself from assessing her any further, not really interested in her long legs
—
the legs I love can
’
t boast of this height.

“
Hey, Logan.
”

“
Hey, yourself. Where
’
re you headed?
”

I shrug, slipping my fingertips into the front pockets of my jeans.
“
Nowhere in particular.
”

“
In that case, get that mysterious, sexy ass in here,
”
she demands, tilting her head to indicate she means for me to go inside the shop she
’
s standing in front of. As I look up at the sign to clarify where I am, she disappears under the assumption that I
’
ll follow. I realize that she
’
s working and, because I have nothing better to do, I follow her into The Smitten Kitten.

I can tell the shop is mostly geared towards women, as three-quarters of what I see are women
’
s clothes and accessories; but there is a small section of the store that seems to be for men, so I wander there as she
’
s pulled away by a customer with a question. I
’
m not alone for long before she joins me.

“
So, what
’
s a guy like you doing strolling around with no destination on a gorgeous afternoon like this?
”

“
Gorgeous? It
’
s actually kind of hot.
”

“
Says the man in a pair of
jeans
,
”
she replies, resting both hands on her cocked right hip.
“
Is it really true that the mysterious
Beckham
is a glass-half-empty kind of guy?
”

I furrow my eyebrows as I run my fingers along the velvety material of a vest that hangs in front of me. I
’
m usually
not
such a negative person. I
’
m not sure how I feel about the fact that
that
’
s
what I
’
m putting off.
Is that who I
’
m becoming?
“
I
’
m not always,
”
I mumble.
“
Just not having the best day.
”

“
Hmm. Well, allow me to cheer you up. I
’
m off in fifteen minutes, you can take me to dinner.
”

“
Dinner?
”
I reply with a smirk.
“
It
’
s not even four o
’
clock.
”

“
It will be when I get off,
”
she says with a smile.
“
Plus, I
’
m
starving
.
”

I can
’
t help but smile at her enthusiastic insistence, but I shake my head, uncomfortable with the idea of
taking her out
. It
’
s such an ambiguous statement that it feels sort of like a trap; and regardless of what she means by it, I don
’
t want to lead her on.
“
I don
’
t know, Logan.
”

“
Oh, come on. I
’
m a
fabulous
dinner companion.
”
She bats her eyelashes at me playfully and her flirtatious smile adds a certain sparkle to her dark green eyes. When I continue to hesitate, her smile turns into a pout.
“
Beckham
—
do you have a girlfriend I don't know about?
”

Insert dagger and twist.

“
No,
”
I say softly, reaching my hand up to rub at the tense muscles in my neck. If her proposal was ambiguous before, it doesn
’
t seem like that now.

“
Perfect! Then there
’
s no reason why you shouldn
’
t want to go out with me.
”

I raise an eyebrow at her, uncertain how I feel about her confidence.
Not that there
’
s anything wrong with her being sure of herself, but I don
’
t really have a lot of fight in me right now.
“
Look, Logan, I don
’
t have a girlfriend but
…
it
’
s complicated.
”

“
Well, damn,
”
she huffs, dropping her arms to her sides.
“
Why didn
’
t you say so? That just means I owe
you
dinner.
”

I chuckle, because I don
’
t know how else to respond.
“
Logan
—”

“
No, no, no,
”
she insists, lifting her palms up to stop me.
“
Trust me, I
know
complicated. She
’
s a bitch. I
’
m buying you dinner. An
early
dinner. With a drink, because it
’
s five o
’
clock somewhere! Now, since
that
’
s
settled, stay. Look around. We
’
ll leave in a few minutes.
”

She
’
s gone before I can argue; but as I watch her saunter off, I realize that I don
’
t want to. I might not be interested in her romantically, but that doesn
’
t mean I can
’
t enjoy her company. There
’
s something about her brazenness that I appreciate. I attribute part of it to the fact that she doesn
’
t know that much about me or what I
’
m going through. She takes and demands without compromise.

While my friends are definitely getting sick of my poor attitude, they know my heart and they sympathize, so they walk around on egg shells and handle me with kid gloves even though I know I don't deserve their gentleness. Not that I blame them. But I
’
m reminded that Logan
’
s ignorance is refreshing.
Mostly, though, I know that
’
s just her personality.
Any way I look at it, I just found someone to distract my thoughts for a while.
Or, rather, she found me.

Ten minutes later, she
’
s leading us down the street and filling me in on her day. Apparently, it wasn't all that eventful until I popped up, but she somehow manages to hold my attention until we
’
re walking into Cooper's.

Wait
—
we
’
re walking into Coopers.

“
Whoa, here? You want to eat here?
”
I ask, stopping her with a gentle hold around her elbow.

She looks down at my hand and then her gaze travels slowly up to my eyes, where she stares from underneath her eyelashes. I let her go immediately. A knowing smirk tugs at her lips
—
what she might know, I have no idea
—
and then she reaches for the door handle in front of her.
“
Yeah. I
’
ve been dreaming of their black bean burger all day. I
’
m salivating now just talking about it. Let
’
s go.
”

Reluctantly, I follow her. I
’
m not sure if my reluctance is because I
’
m too bogged down to handle seeing Addie today or if it
’
s because I'm afraid of Addie seeing me out with Logan.
Just
Logan
. Whatever the reason, I have to stifle a groan when Logan chooses the bar over the dining room. I find myself praying that Addie isn
’
t working right now.

“
Hey, Roman's here,
”
she informs me as she sets her bag down, on a table I
’
m assuming she
’
s claiming as ours.
“
I
’
m going to go say hi. I
’
ll be right back.
”

As she goes, I scan the room looking for Addison. When I don
’
t see her, my shoulders slump in relief. I miss her, I do, but maybe right now I miss her too much? Or maybe I
’
m just getting used to this whole avoidance thing; the thought of being confronted with her presence, where I
’
ll be forced to restrain myself from following through with any of the threats I've been making against God, is overwhelming.