More Than Him (33 page)
"Have you spoken to Megan since you've been back?" Micky asked over the music.
I leaned forward on the table so she could hear me properly. "Not yet, have you?"
She nodded. "She's doing well, Logan. That new facility she was moved to helped her lots." She smiled proudly. "She's clean, and she's started to sort her life out." Then her features flattened. "It would mean a lot to her if you called, or something. Just let her know that you're
safe
, and that you don't blame her for what happened. She's carrying around a lot of that guilt—"
"What?" I interrupted.
"Yeah," she said timidly. "She thinks it's her fault, what happened that night, and you leaving. She even called Amanda to apologize."
I looked over to Amanda who was laughing at Ethan missing the hole from only inches away. "I'll call her," I promised. "I don't want her thinking any of that shit. I just wanted the time to make things right, you know?" I faced her again. She was nodding, understanding what I meant.
I just wanted Amanda.
Amanda
Logan and I left the party right after Cameron and Lucy did. They had to be up early to head home. Tomorrow was the anniversary of Lucy's mom's death, and, like every year, they went to visit her with the rest of her family.
"You promise you can't see anything?" he asked.
I gripped his arm tighter and took the final step onto the roof. "Do
you
promise this isn't going to be like the last time you blindfolded me?"
"Holy shit, babe, my dick just twitched in my pants."
"Really?"
"Yup."
"Let me touch it."
The warmth of his breath from his chuckle hit my cheek. "Okay," he announced. "You ready?"
"Yes." I blinked a few times, adjusting my eyes to the small amount of night light that filtered through once the blindfold was off. We were on the rooftop of the apartment, like I’d suspected, but there was nothing different about it. "Um, I don't—"
His laugh cut me off. "Just wait right here, okay?" He moved swiftly to an outlet next to the door. "Ready?" he shouted.
I nodded.
Then the entire place lit up from above. My eyes darted up to the hundreds of fairy lights that were strung up above us. In the center was a bunch of different sized and colored paper lanterns. But that's not what made me gasp; it was the dozens of tiny glass vials weaved through them.
"See?" He stood next to me, and followed my gaze. "Now we just wait for it to rain, and we can start collecting more moments."
I slowly turned to him. His eyes were still focused above us. But he wasn't seeing what I was seeing. What I saw my future, my life, my world. "Logan, this is amazing."
His smile was instant. That all-out, carefree, deep-dimple-displaying smile I loved so much. He took my hand. "Come on." He led me to a rug set out underneath the center of the lights. I followed. Once we were seated, he said, "Hi." He chewed the corner of his lip and played with a loose thread on the rug.
"Hi," I replied.
We sat cross-legged, facing each other. Our grins matched each other’s. "Happy birthday."
"Thank you."
"I got you something."
"No. You've already done so much. You've spent way too much money."
He rolled his eyes. "This didn't cost me anything."
"You sure?"
"Yes, babe," he drawled. "I'm sure."
I perked up. "Okay, then. Gimme!" I threw my hand out, palm up.
He sighed. "It's not—" He took a deep breath and let it out with his words. "It's not what you think it is, and I don't want you to get excited, or mad, or disappointed because you will, and it's—"
"Logan. Stop!"
"Okay . . ."
I moved my hand suggestively closer to him.
And then I waited.
And waited.
It felt like forever.
But the instant the metal hit my palm and the lights from above shined reflectively on the diamond—I flipped my hand and dropped it.
I glared at him, my eyes falling out of my head. His expression matched mine.
I glanced down at the ring, now sitting on the rug.
Thump. Thump.
I looked away.
"I told you it's not what you think it is."
"No," is all I could say. My mind was racing. My palms were sweating.
"Amanda." He tried to get my attention.
I started to stand up but his heavy hands on my legs stopped me from moving any further.
"What is wrong with you?" He'd started chuckling. I didn't know what was so funny.
"You're giving me an engagement ring, Logan. That's not funny."
He quit laughing. His tone was serious when he said, "It is an engagement ring, but it's not for you. I mean it's not
your
engagement ring."
My face must've shown how confused he just made me because he dropped his head and let out the sigh of all sighs. When he finally lifted it, his eyes were focused, determined. Picking up the ring between us, he asked me to come closer. I did. "Closer," he said again. I moved. "Closer." I was sitting across his lap by the time he was satisfied. "I'm not asking you to marry me," he started. My shoulders relaxed. I wasn't ready for that yet. "I'm not saying that I won't. It's just not our time—
yet
." I smiled, so glad we were on the same page. He continued, "Remember how I told you about Dad's Tina?"
"His high school sweetheart? The one that . . ." I trailed off.
He glanced away for a second. "Yeah, this is hers."
My breath caught.
"My dad . . ." He held my hand upright and placed the ring on my palm. I picked it up and started to examine it. It was beautiful. Beyond beautiful. White gold with a single stone, but the stone was huge; triple the width of the band. His words broke into my thoughts, but I kept my eyes on the ring. "He gave this to me when I was sixteen. He said I'd become a man." He laughed lightly to himself. "He told me that moments, the ones I create, the ones I hold onto—they're only worth remembering if I have someone to share them with. He said that when I found someone—someone I wanted to share all of my future moments with—to give them this. And hope that every time that person looks at it, they'll know. They'll know that I wanted to share my life with them.
"And that's what I want. I want that person to be you, Amanda. And if for some reason, shit happens—again—and things don't work out for us, I need you to
know
that. I need you to be able to look at this, for the rest of your life, and know that you’re it for me. Because I love you. I’ve always loved you. I’ll always love you. And I hope that that’s what you
feel
when you think about this
moment
. Loved."
The tear fell before I realized that I was crying. Lifting my head, I tried to level my breathing. I opened my mouth, but the words didn't exist. He reached around me and gently pulled the chain over my head. After unclasping it, he slid the ring on, and secured it around my neck again. I lifted it to see both the ring and vial. I curled my fingers around them, grasping tightly. "This chain holds all my dreams," I told him.
"Yeah?" He smiled softly. "
You
hold all of mine."
We settled onto the rug, me lying down with my head on his shoulder and his arm around me. We gazed up at the lights above us, listening to them chime as the wind blew and they clanked against the vials. Only then did I take in the masterpiece he'd created. The lanterns all set up in the middle, the twinkling lights forming a circle around them. "Logan, do you know what it looks like?"
"What do you mean?" he asked. But it wasn't really a question. He already knew my answer.
"It looks like the universe."
Cameron
I haven't felt like this since the first time I approached her in her laundry room at her mom's wake. The sweaty palms, the blood pumping in my ears. At least they were all a distance away and couldn't see me in this pathetic state. I'm sure her brothers would've given me shit about it.
I was so fucking nervous my eye began to twitch.
Twitchy,
that's probably what the boys would nickname me for a year.
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to get it to stop. Surely I must look crazy right now—suited up, standing under a random tree, yards away from a huge family paying respect to their lost mother and wife.
I blew out a breath. I needed to calm down. Pressing my palm against my chest, I closed my eyes and started counting in my head. It didn't seem to get better.
Then I felt a tiny hand brush against my leg and fingers wrap around mine.
I opened one eye and looked down at Lachlan. He beamed up at me, with crooked teeth on display. He'd just started getting his adult teeth through. "Daddy says it's time," he whispered. Kid was cute. He wouldn't be much longer. His older brothers had already started talking him into doing and saying some stupid shit, but I'd virtually watched him grow from a tiny baby into this boy, and soon enough, he'd be a teenager
. I bet he'll be like Little Logan
. That kid's a punk. His name suits him.
We walked hand in hand over to his mother's headstone. I wanted to give them all time to pay their respects as a family. She waited at the front of them, with that same sad smile I'd gotten used to over the last six years. Six years. Holy shit.
"It'll be okay," Lachlan whispered. Then he took off, running towards his dad.
And it started again. The nerves. The sweaty palms. The racing heart. The fucking eye twitch.
I stood in front of her, my ribs aching from the pounding of my heart against it. It felt like it could break bone and skin and rip through me at any second. I placed my hand in my pocket and felt around for what I needed.
"Are you okay, Cam?" Her voice dripped with concern. "You look kind of pale."
I gazed up at her dad. He just nodded, and tried to smile. He failed, but I got it. I couldn't even imagine what this must've felt like for him. Maybe he felt like he was about to lose the only woman left in his life, but he knew me better than that. He knew I'd never take her away.
I eyed all her brothers, one by one, almost as if asking for permission.
No one gave me an out.
I finished on Lachlan, and his smile was unchanged. He nodded his head with as much enthusiasm as his seven-year-old body could muster.
Then I gave all my attention to the girl in front of me.
Lucy.
She must've been following my gaze. Her head slowly turned from her brothers behind her to me. Eyes narrowed, she asked, "What's going on?" Her gaze searched me from head to toe, and then back up again. But she didn't get all the way up—her eyes fixated on what I was holding. They widened. As if in slow motion, her hand came up to cover her mouth.
I sucked in a breath.
Let it out in whoosh.
And that's when it happened.
I dropped down on one knee.
"Lucy . . ."
Thank you to those that have supported me from day one. There are way too many names to mention but you know who you are and you know how much I love and appreciate you.
To me beta readers, (but above all, friends) Chelcie, Tricia, Alexis, Feifei, Kellie (I E), Leslee (E E) and anyone else I forgot to mention. Thank you.
I also need to thank the author friends that I've met along the way—those that have held my hand and kept me from deleting every single word on every single page. I need to say a special thank you to Tijan, for reasons I don't need to say. She's just important—that's all.
Thank you to my proofreaders and admins on my fan page for always building me up and giving me a big head and making me cry. All the time with the goddamn tears. Ugh.
Zo'om (Zoe Overment)
SamShem (Sam Shemeld POW)
You not only help me along, but you kind of organize my life. Your friendship, support and encouragement mean the world. It's the reason I write. The reason I breathe.
Debbie Flowers (You get your own paragraph because your that fucking cool). This book, I believe is my best work yet and I owe a lot of that to not only you, and your support, but your ability to tell me when to shut up and when to suck it up. So many parts of this book are inspired by our late night conversations. Eleventy-three blowfish jobs for JAMAL.
Showers = the best damn piece of writing I've ever accomplished.
It's been such a pleasure getting to know you as a person and I can't wait to see what the future holds for us.
P.S – Waz says the future better hold more Tastykakes.
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