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Between You and Me(61)

By:Jennifer Gracen


Annmarie shook her head. "I'd bet this condo that if you went to her and  poured your heart out for once in your stubborn life, you'd get her  back." Her fingers dug into his shoulders, as if she could shake sense  into him.

He sighed. There was so much she didn't understand. Which, of course,  was his fault for lying to her in the first place. What a mess. "Don't  worry about me, okay?"

"I'll worry about you 'til I stop breathing," she said. "I'm a mother. It's part of the job description."

His shoulders lifted in a lifeless shrug. "Sorry about that."

"Don't be sorry," she demanded. "Get your head out of your ass and get Tess back."

He breathed out a chuckle. "Got a way with words."

"Logan. Honey . . ." She grabbed his face again, made him look into her eyes. "You deserve to be happy. Do you hear me?"

He nodded, but his throat was too thick to speak.

"I thought you'd stopped punishing yourself for the past, but I see  clearly now that you never did. Hear me." She shook him a little. "You  deserve to be happy."

His eyes stung. He didn't move, just met her intense stare.

"Does Tess make you happy?" she asked.

He nodded.

"Don't. Let. Her. Go." She stared harder. "Don't go through life like  this. Yes, it's scary to think that you can lose the people who are  important to you. That's why when someone great crosses your path,  you've gotta hold on with everything you've got. It's what makes life  meaningful. Our connections with others. It's a leap of faith, a risk . .  . but it's a risk so worth taking."

Her hands slid down to his shoulders. "Logan . . . you can have  happiness of your own. Fight for it. You have to try, or you'll never  forgive yourself. I don't want that for you. You've wasted enough time  beating yourself up, isolating yourself. Take a chance. She's wonderful,  and she loves you. I know she does, even if you won't let yourself  believe it." Suddenly she weaved where she stood.

Logan's hands shot out to grab her. "Whoa, I've got you. You okay?"

She felt wobbly to him. "Yeah. Just got a little light-headed. Looking  up at you for too long made the blood rush back . . . Why do you have to  be so damn tall?"

"Why do you have to exhaust yourself lecturing me?" he tried to joke  back, even as he held her close to move her toward the living room  couch.

"Because you're a frustrating moron," she grumbled, clinging to him as  they walked slowly. "Good thing I love you more than life itself."





Chapter Twenty-Five

Logan moved through the next two days in something of a daze. His  mother's words echoed through his mind over and over. She'd given him a  lot to think about.

She'd been right. About everything.

He had spent the past decade-plus punishing himself. He'd come to a  place of acceptance about the people who'd died and suffered during  Katrina, but he hadn't fully forgiven himself. It was long past time to  do that and let it go. It wasn't serving him, and dammit, it wasn't his  fault the shelter had flooded. Every building in a four-block radius had  been washed out; he wasn't God, it wasn't his fault, there wasn't  anything more he could have done. There truly wasn't. Way past time to  let that go.

As for Rachel . . . She hadn't been capable of giving him what he needed  when he needed it most. He knew that. But it didn't mean he wasn't  worthy of love and devotion. It meant she wasn't right for him, that was  all. He had forgiven her for leaving, but . . . he'd never forgiven  himself for choosing the wrong person. For being wrong about her, and  feeling foolish for trusting and loving her. He had, and there was no  shame in that. It didn't mean he couldn't, or shouldn't, love someone  that way again.                       
       
           



       

And the Universe was laughing at him, because guess what? He already did.

And Tess cared about him too. He knew that. They'd connected, in a deep,  true way that defied labels or explanation. If he didn't try to act on  that, or at least tell her how he really felt, Annmarie was right. He'd  regret it for the rest of his life.

But he'd hurt her deeply with his callous remarks in their last talk.  He'd felt her anguish through the phone; it'd made him cringe. He had to  fix it. He had to reach out . . .

First, however, was dinner with his mom. He got to her condo at five.  Giving Richie some of his houses had been the right move, it freed up  his schedule. He'd have plenty of time to work more hours after his mom  was gone. For now, being able to see his mom every day was what he  needed to do.

"Hi," he called out as he let himself into her place.

"Hi," she called back feebly. He could barely hear her.

He walked into the living room. She was on the couch, under three heavy  quilts, her face pale. The TV blared the news; he grabbed the remote to  mute it, then knelt beside her. She didn't look good. "Hey there." He  put his hand against her cheek. She felt warm. "You okay?"

"I'm just cold," she said. "Couldn't get warm today." She shivered hard.

He swore under his breath, then said to her, "I think you have a fever, Mom. Let me make you some tea. We'll warm you up."

"Wait, before you do . . . look." She pointed across to the armchair and smiled. "I got a gift today."

"What?" Too worried to care about a gift, he glanced over at the chair  in annoyance. Then stopped cold. It was a painting. "What is that?"

"Your lovely girlfriend sent it to me. It's wonderful, isn't it?"  Annmarie's tired eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled. "Look  closer at it."

Logan went to the chair and picked up the canvas to study it. It was  about a foot square. He knew Tess loved to paint, but she'd never let  him watch her paint. He'd only seen pictures of her work on her phone,  once he'd convinced her to show them to him. She'd been afraid to share  them; too humble. Also, it was too intimate a thing to reveal that piece  of herself to anyone. But she'd shown him.

"It's really good," he murmured as his eyes caressed the canvas. Greens,  blues, browns, white . . . "You know what this is?" he asked, turning  back to his mother. "It's the view outside her house. Up on Red  Mountain."

"I thought so."

"That house is crazy gorgeous-the whole back wall, from the ground floor  to the top, is glass. Like a big panoramic window instead of a wall.  And this is the view. She really captured it beautifully . . ." Swirls  of snow, a sea of forest pines, the majesty of the mountains under a  bright blue sky. And her initials, modestly small black letters in the  bottom right corner. His fingers caressed them. "She sent you this?"

"It came today," Annmarie said. "Awfully thoughtful of her."

"Yes, it was." He eyed a flowered card on the chair that must have been  under the painting. He picked it up. "Mind if I look at this?" he asked.

"Go right ahead," Annmarie said.

He held the small painting in one hand to read the card with the other.  Tess's handwriting was elegant and lovely, just like her.



Dearest Annmarie,

I heard you're not feeling well, and hoped a little gift might cheer you  up a bit. Forgive me for being presumptuous in assuming you'd want a  piece of my work, but you asked to see it several times, so I hoped you  weren't being merely complimentary and meant what you said. (I think you  must have; you're a no-nonsense woman.) So I hope you'll enjoy this  painting. I worked on it while I was there this winter . . . while I  spent time with your son. We used to sit on the couch together and talk  while staring out at this view. While we did, I fell in love with him a  little more each day.

And bonus, I fell in love with you too. Hoping you'll feel that love in this gift.

xoxo

Tess





Logan felt light-headed. Like the air in the room had evaporated.                       
       
           



       

"She calls me once a week, you know," Annmarie said. "Has since she left."

"I didn't know," he managed.

"Yup. On Mondays. Just to say hi, and check on me. When I called her  today to thank her for this, she sounded so sad. She hated that she  didn't know I'd gotten worse. You and I keep shielding her from it.  That's not fair. She cares about me."

"I know she does," he whispered roughly.

"I apologized for shielding her and promised I wouldn't again. She  thanked me and told me, in as few dignified, tactful words as possible,  that you two aren't speaking anymore. She sounded miserable." Annmarie  shivered again. "I'm too tired to argue with you about it now. That tea  sounds like a good idea. Could you please?"