Page 89 of Living at 40

“Is everything okay?” I ask once I’ve closed the door, concerned for his daughter. I’ve been in touch with Lorna but prudently avoid any mention of her father.

“I want to talk.”

Are there any worse words? “We don’t need to do this.” I pause by the overstuffed chair facing my balcony.

“I wanted to see you.”

I don’t believe him although his presence negates my thought. “What do you want?” The question is sharp. My tone harsh.

“Mason called me.”

Crossing my arms, I glance away from him, staring toward the large, glass double doors leading out to my balcony. In the distance is the quiet, calm lake under a hazy fall sky. Mason. I shake my head. He’s almost as meddlesome as Anna.

“He told me there’s a new list.”

“Oh. My God,” I nearly scream, lifting my head to face the ceiling and clench my fists at my side. I cannot believe these clowns.

“There wasn’t a list,” I groan in frustration. “Anna suggested a list. Not me. Not ever. I only wanted one thing, Logan.”

“What?” He steps toward me, but I step back.

“It doesn’t matter.” Lowering my head, I gaze at the floor and draw a circle with my toe on the carpet. I wanted you to love me. More than just saying the words but truly love me.

Nevertheless, I’ve come to realize that something is seriously wrong with me, and perhaps I came on a bit strong because of my desire for a baby. For my phase, as Ben called it. My phase for motherhood and marriage and more.

“Of course, it does.” Logan sighs.

“Go home, Logan. As you said, we’re over.” Summer’s over. The two-week visit is over. The baby-making business is done.

Logan exhales, lowering the flowers he’s been holding at his chest to his side. “I made a mistake.”

“No, I made a mistake,” I state loud and clear, pointing at my chest.

“Don’t say that about us.” His eyes widen.

It’s true, though. I did this. I believed we could be something other than having sex to make a baby for me. Only me.

Logan takes another step closer, but I take another backward, bumping into the chair.

“Marry me.”

“Don’t do this.” Tears instantly well in my eyes. Not this. “Don’t make a mockery of marriage. Don’t turn this into your sausage joke. This I cannot handle.”

“I’m not joking.” His eyes widen even more, and those dark orbs plead with me, but I can’t do this.

“You broke up with me two weeks ago.”

“I was a fool. As I said, I made a mistake. Big mistake. Huge mistake.” He expands his arms, flowers waving in the air, but it’s not enough. There’s no excuse for his behavior that doesn’t point right back at mine. I had a crush on him. I wanted to have sex with him. I wasn’t good enough for him.

“I won’t play into some competition with Mason. There’s no list. You’re free of . . .” Obligation? He was never obligated to me. We made no promises. You can still love someone and not have it move forward into something more. I know. I’ve been in this position numerous times in my life.

“Actually, the list Mason mentioned was called the man-up list, and I’m here to do it.”

A lump forms in my throat, and I swallow around the thick blockage. My arms cross, holding myself together.

“You have nothing to man up over. I’m fine on my own.” I straighten my back.

“But I’m not,” Logan says, lowering his voice. He takes a deep breath and continues. “Remember when you told me that statistic about men and marriage? How men don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to be alone.” He points at himself. “There’s been a void in my life. One I didn’t even see was there until you began to fill it.”