It’s my turn to let out a long breath. “We’ve . . . hit a rough patch.”
“What kind?”
I tell her everything, haltingly. Our playful discussions about getting together over the years. Feeling things had changed between us recently. Trying to push him toward Emmy. His note. How he slipped Bean inside the other night without another word. Mom nods knowingly, like she’s not even surprised.
“Why do I feel like you already know all this?” I ask suspiciously.
She wrinkles her nose. Her makeup is perfectly matte despite the warm afternoon sun. How does she do that? I’ve never known. Half the stuff other people do are a mystery to me.
“Well, Tamara and Dean heard from Logan that his feelings toward you had been shifting. They helped him cook up the plan to take you skydiving and give you the note. He thought it would make for a really great story, but . . .”
“I ruined it.” I hang my head. I didn’t handle any of this well. Not at all.
“But Stevie, it’s all right if you don’t share Logan’s feelings. I know you two are very, very close, but sometimes feelings don’t change from friendship to more for both people. Sometimes that’s only in Hollywood, and it could even be for the best. Some friendships should stay just that. But what does Logan say? Have you spoken to him?”
My head hangs lower, and I mumble, “Not exactly. I haven’t been sure what to say.”
Mom nods. “I wondered if that might be the case when you asked to come over. Well, how are you feeling about him?”
I let go of the red-brown chains and throw up my hands, almost falling back into the grass. “I don’t know! I’m terrible at figuring out how I feel.”
She thinks about that. “Let me ask you this, then. Picture your life a year from now. What does it look like? What’s different, and what’s the same?”
I answer immediately. “Everything’s the same. Everything’s exactly the same. Logan and I still live together with Bean.”
She makes an encouraging sound. “And are you friends? Or more than that?”
I drag my feet on the ground to stop the swing. “I don’t know! That’s what I can’t figure out. I don’t want to lose what I have—or had—with Logan. And I’m so afraid I’m about to lose that, no matter what I do or say! Why did he have to do this? Why couldn’t we stay the way we were?”
Tears well, and a teensy tiny connection makes its way through my brain. I was terrified of losing Bean on Thursday. And now I’m terrified of losing Logan.
Is that how I want to live? Do I want to hide from loss and avoid change? Hang on to old things because they were good once? I mean, of course I don’t want to lose my dog, but pets age, they get sick, they lose abilities. And so do humans. Relationships change all the time. Jobs change. People move away.
Nothing stays the same. I know this on some level, but I can’t seem to apply it to my relationship with Logan. He’s always been part of my life. Always.
“You and Logan have had a connection since your days playing on this swing set,” Mom says gently. “Of course, it’s hard to think about that changing. When you picture your relationship changing to something more, what frightens you about it?”
I stand and pace. “Everything. Logan and I have never had a physical relationship. I mean, other than hugging or sharing a blanket on the couch once in a while. What if we aren’t, you know, compatible? What if it’s awful? What then? I lose him. I lose my best friend.”
“Or . . . maybe it will be wonderful. At least half of a relationship, if not more, is the emotional connection. You two already have that down. And you manage a home successfully. You know each other’s strengths and what you aren’t so good at. I have a feeling that you’d work through anything that wasn’t quite optimal in the physical department.”
I stop walking. “Then you think I should say yes?”
She shakes her head. “Oh no, Stevie Sunshine. I didn’t say that. That’s your decision to make. I’m trying to help you work through this. I do understand your concerns, but please consider this. Life is change. The reason your relationship with Logan hasn’t changed, is because you two have worked so hard to hold on to what you have. Through other romantic relationships, through career changes and shifting priorities, you’ve stayed together. Yes, as friends. But you’ve proven your relationship can withstand years of change already.”
That stops me in my tracks. She’s right, we have. Examples: Logan’s company offered him a nice promotion a few years ago that would have required him to move out to California. He’d turned it down because we’d recently signed the lease on our house, and he didn’t want to leave me to find a new housemate. I’d had a boyfriend after college who was pretty serious about wanting me to move in with him. I didn’t, because it would leave Logan scrambling to find someone else to share with, and the guy and I had ended things soon after. We’d each made sacrifices to stay near the other.
I collapse on the swing seat again. “What if this is different, though? What if our friendship can’t withstand being in love?”
Mom stands and takes my hands. “There’s one way to find out, love. Logan has told you how he feels. The change you fear is here—whether you like it or not. Now, it’s up to you to decide how it turns out.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Logan
The next few days after Stevie comes home, we move through the house like polite, quiet ghosts. Instead of best friends, we’re acquaintances. Instead of housemates, we’re tourists. Instead of falling in love, we’re falling apart.
Monday and Tuesday, I drag myself to and from work, make quick meals in the kitchen, and spend evenings in my room instead of the living room. Stevie seems to be doing the same.
The house is a wreck, the fridge is practically empty, and my heart’s frozen with grief. I want Stevie, but I don’t want to lose her all together like this.
Something has to give.
Emmy texts me on Wednesday afternoon. Coming to club tonight?
I don’t know. Don’t think I’m up for it, I text back. And don’t think Stevie wants me there anymore, I don’t add.
Come. I have some exciting news. Please?
I heave a long sigh. I’m guessing her news has to do with Jude, and I’m happy for her, but it makes the horrible ache in my chest harder to bear. I’m having a hard time finding anything enjoyable, interesting, or entertaining. But Emmy’s a friend now. I can manage one more appearance at club at least.
As I pass the museum and the playground, I see the usual group in the grassy area where the club practices. Aaron, Nisha, Jude, and some of the others are warming the dogs up. But no Stevie or Bean.
Jude throws a disc in a particularly long, smooth flight pattern, and Meadow catches it with ease. She really is a phenomenal athlete. Bean can be, too, if Stevie keeps working with her. I guess I won’t be around to see it.
Emmy spots me walking up and comes over. She hugs me, then studies my face. “Wow, Logan, do you feel okay? I mean this in the most caring of ways, but you look awful.”
I laugh shakily. “I’m not great. But to be honest, I don’t want to talk about it right now. What’s the good news? I could use some right now.”