Walk Through Fire

  It was alert.

  I turned my attention back to the restaurant and saw a pretty, petite blonde woman in a maroon button-down shirt with a fleece jacket over it standing at the doors, looking at us.

  No, watching us.

  I knew this because I’d vaguely noticed her when I’d pulled in.

  And she was still there.

  Oh God, that was Deb.

  Oh God, Deb had watched Logan and me greet, me make him smile and laugh, hand him some dirty talk, him kiss me and guide me her way holding me close.

  Shit.

  “Yo,” Logan called when we were at the bumpers of the cars parked in front of the salad bar.

  “Hey,” Deb called back.

  I lifted a hand and waved.

  “Hey,” I repeated.

  Deb looked at me and I saw as we came close she didn’t wear a lot of makeup and her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, but the blonde was pretty, the color suited her, she had a killer bod even if her work outfit wasn’t the greatest, and she was a lot more attractive up close.

  “Hey, Millie,” she said to me, and when we stepped up to the walk in front of the salad bar, she extended her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  I took my arm from around Logan’s waist (he did not reciprocate the gesture when I did) and took her hand.

  “Nice to meet you too.”

  She smiled at me and I smiled back but did it studying her hard.

  I did this but I could find nothing there. Even though she looked nothing like either of her girls, her smile was like Cleo’s when she wasn’t forcing it.

  Natural. Genuine. Friendly.

  And it made her even prettier.

  “Let’s go in,” Logan prompted. “I wanna eat lettuce like I want someone to drill a bullet in my gut but at least these fuckers always have a vat of chili at the end.”

  Deb shook her head at him but did it grinning before she looked to me even as she turned to the doors of the restaurant.

  “Getting him to eat anything healthy was like pulling teeth,” she told me like she was sharing just any tidbit of information with anyone from friend to stranger. “I gave up about six days into our marriage.”

  “Thank fuck,” Logan muttered.

  Okay.

  Hmm.

  I didn’t know what to think about that.

  What I did know was that I wasn’t sure I was up for a trip down the memory lane of their marriage even if that marriage wasn’t full of joy, love, and laughter.

  I said nothing, just aimed a noncommittal grin to Deb as we moved to the cash register.

  There, Logan made it clear he was paying for all of us. Deb made it clear she didn’t think that was necessary and offered to pay. They had a mild fight.

  And I didn’t know what to think about that either.

  To end it, I said to Deb, “Sorry, but I’m a little hungry and I know you have to get back to work, so do I, so why don’t we let Logan pay and if we do this again, we can take turns.”

  “Good idea,” she replied on another natural smile and headed to the salad bar.

  We got our food. We took our seats, me pinned in our side of the booth by Logan.

  And after taking them in, I didn’t know what to think about the state of our trays.

  After getting his tray, Logan didn’t even bother walking the salad bar. He went straight to the hot stuff at the end. Therefore, he had a bowl of chili, a plate full of nachos, two pieces of corn bread, three garlic sticks, and four cups—one filled with pound cake, one filled with whipped cream, and two filled with vanilla pudding.

  Halfway through the salad bar, I’d given up on the plate idea since I was piling it on so my salad dripped off the sides. I also had two garlic sticks and two cups, one filled with pound cake, one filled with pudding topped with whipped cream.

  Deb’s salad was an eighth the size of mine; she apparently was using cottage cheese as dressing (about a tablespoon of it) and she also had two dessert cups. One filled with pineapple, one filled with strawberries.

  I’d never had an issue about my body or the food I ate. This was because my parents didn’t have an issue with either. They gave us healthy food. We were also free to eat whatever treats we wanted. And they complimented us frequently on a variety of things, including telling me and Dot we were beautiful.

  Further, I’d garnered male attention from early on. Not any of those males seemed to have a problem with my curves.

  Primary to this was hooking up with Logan at an early age.

  He’d not only not had a problem with my curves, he showered attention on them. Never had he given me any idea that he wasn’t fiercely attracted to all that was me.

  Not even a hint.

  But he had two children with Deb, which meant something drew him to her in the first place.

  And she was not one thing like me.

  “Shit,” he muttered. “They didn’t have taco shells when I went through and just put ’em out. Gonna get some tacos.” He looked to me. “Want some, babe?”

  I pressed my lips together and shook my head.

  He took off, not bothering to ask Deb because it was clear he knew her answer would be no.

  I watched him go, then picked up my fork and started stabbing at my salad, feeling strange.

  “You’re not what I expected.”

  Deb’s words made me look at her and brace.

  “No?” I prompted, even though I didn’t want to and even though I felt the same thing about her but had no intention of sharing that.

  She dipped her head my way. “He said you had history, met when you guys were young. I expected total biker babe. Leathers. Harley tees. Stuff like that. Not a class act.”

  Well, that was nice.

  However.

  “Years have gone by, Deb. I’ve changed,” I told her. “I never wore leathers but I used to be top to toe old lady. My cutoffs and halter top days are over but I gotta admit, I kinda miss them.”

  She shrugged through a grin. “Life surprises us. Stuff happens, we change. Not that I’m saying if you showed all biker babe, I’d think anything bad,” she assured me quickly. When I nodded, she continued, “No matter what, seeing what I saw, it’d be good because that was cool.”

  “Sorry?” I asked, not knowing what she meant.

  “You. High. Seeing him laugh like that. I swear, Millie, never saw that.” She smiled. “He said you made him happy. He didn’t lie.”

  Suddenly, the depth and breadth of my salad didn’t enter my mind.

  “Never?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “Nope. No wonder Cleo likes you. She and High are close. Two peas in a pod. You make him laugh like that, she’ll love you to the end of time.”

  That felt good.

  But.

  “Things haven’t been…” I hesitated and decided to say,“such that I’ve had many chances to make Logan laugh like that around the girls.”

  Or at all.

  She nodded and speared a spinach leaf. “I hear that. Princess Zadie.” It was then she shook her head. “Love that girl but so does High. If he could build her a princess castle that had turrets that reached to the clouds, he would. He’d do the same for Cleo but she’s got her feet on the ground and she thinks of other people as well as herself. She knows not even to ask because doing it might break her dad’s back. Zadie’s thought process doesn’t go that far.”

  I decided not to respond to that.

  “She gets there, though,” Deb assured me, finishing with, “Eventually.”

  “It’s really kind of you to wade into all this,” I told her.

  She’d shoved the spinach leaf into her mouth while I was talking so she flicked her fork out to the side when I was done.

  Once she swallowed, she said, “This kind of thing is the way it is now. Families aren’t like they used to be. Don’t know, didn’t live back in the fifties where women had zero choice, even if they were stuck in a marriage that wasn’t working. But my guess is, this way is better. Peop
le adjust and if they don’t know how to do that, they should learn. We’re adjusting.” She shrugged. “Making a new family for the girls.”

  I tried not to look like I was staring at her.

  But.

  Could she honestly be this cool?

  Before I could blurt that question out, Logan slid in beside me with a plate holding four loaded tacos.

  He grasped hold of one and dropped grated cheese, lettuce, and meat on a trail to my tray as he plopped it beside my salad.

  I looked to him. “I said I didn’t want one, Low.”

  He looked to me. “You lied, Millie.”

  He was correct.

  I gave him a glare.

  He gave me a grin, then turned to his tray.

  “So, High, thinking on this, this is gonna make things a lot easier,” Deb remarked, spearing more unadulterated vitamins, fiber, and protein and shoving it into her mouth.

  “What?” he asked, speaking through a mouthful of taco.

  Deb circled her fork around. “Us three. I mean, we sort this out, we can do Thanksgivings together. I have the girls Christmas morning, you guys can come to dinner Christmas night and vice versa. Birthdays will be awesome. Lots of family around. Girls get to feel super special.” She stabbed her salad again. “It’ll all be good.”

  I couldn’t help it that time.

  I stared at her.

  God, she honestly was this cool.

  “Yeah,” Logan agreed. “And Thanksgivin’ is comin’ up and we agreed I got the girls this year ’cause you get ’em most of the time but Millie’s kickass pad doesn’t have a dining room. So now, we can all come to your place.”

  “Done,” Deb decreed. “Mom’ll love it. She told me to say hi, by the way.”

  “Hi back,” Logan muttered, tipping his head to the side and taking another massive bite out of taco. As he did this, he must have caught sight of my tray and my lack of interest in it because his eyes came to me, and through a mouthful of taco, he asked, “Babe, why aren’t you eating?”

  “I will when I quit freaking out,” I answered.

  He straightened his head, swallowed, and drew his brows together. “Freakin’ out about what?”

  “I… you…” I looked to Deb and announced, “You’re very cool.”

  She smiled but didn’t say anything because Logan did.

  “Told you she was.”

  I looked to him. “I know you did but you didn’t say she was cool.”

  “Not sure how I can say she’s cool when I’m sayin’ she’s cool, which means Deb’s cool,” Logan returned.

  “Cool is not cool,” I replied.

  “Beautiful, also told you she was a decent woman who wants me happy. So how you can’t get that her cool is cool I have no clue.”

  I quickly looked to Deb and stated, “No offense,” before looking back to Logan and stating, “Women don’t work that way. Rarely are we that cool.”

  “Jesus, that’s fuckin’ ridiculous,” Logan returned.

  I opened my mouth to retort, not knowing what I intended to say, just knowing it would likely be heated, but I didn’t say it because I heard Deb snort prior to busting into laughter.

  Logan and I looked her way.

  “I get you,” she said to me through her amusement. “And I get you,” she said to Logan, tamped down the mirth, and went on, “And I just realized something. You asked what would make me happy, High, and I’m good. I’m happy. But when I answered you, I didn’t know I’d get more of that happy knowing you’d finally got yours.”

  “And there it is!” I declared, pointing my still loaded with unhealthy salad fork at her. “More cool.”

  She burst into laughter again but this time did it while Logan chuckled.

  I belatedly stuck my salad in my mouth and chewed.

  When I was done chewing, I also had pulled myself together.

  “I don’t know if Low’s told you this, but I’m a party planner so whatever you need for birthdays and such, I’m your go-to girl. Family discount. Meaning free,” I said to Deb.

  “Perfect,” she replied.

  “And just to say, I’m attempting a new recipe on Friday night. I haven’t decided what yet but whatever it is, it’s gonna be awesome. When you drop off the girls, you should consider staying.”

  “Got no plans,” she replied. “I’d love to.”

  I grinned, then noted, “Your handbag is the bomb.”

  “Stella McCartney,” she told me.

  I stabbed salad, smiling at her. “I pegged that. Saks?”

  “Neiman’s.”

  “This season?” I asked.

  “Yep,” she answered.

  I turned my attention to my salad, murmuring, “Quick trip to the mall before going back to work.”

  “If you do, there was an Alexander McQueen clutch, black, skull clasp, rhinestones for eyes. I have absolutely no reason to own it but since I saw it I can’t get it off my mind. I’ll give you my number. If it’s still there, text me. I’ll swing by this weekend.”

  “I’ll text,” I told her, then asked, “You want me to put it on hold?”

  “That’d be great.”

  “Now, I want someone to drill a bullet in my gut,” Logan groused.

  Both Deb and I looked to Logan. He looked mildly annoyed at our lapsing into girl talk and less mildly bored as he shoved an entire piece of buttered corn bread in his mouth.

  At that, it was my turn to burst out laughing.

  And I was tickled pink when Deb laughed with me.

  * * *

  “Babe!” Logan bellowed.

  I moved to the door of the laundry room, which was perhaps five feet from where I’d been while in the laundry room, and when I stopped I was perhaps three feet from where Logan stood at the back door, bellowing.

  “I’m right here,” I told him.

  He turned to me. “You hear my bike in the drive?”

  “Yes,” I replied. “But I was separating colors.”

  “You greet me,” he declared.

  “I…” I shook my head. “Sorry?”

  “I come home, you greet me. Since we been back, I come home, you’re waitin’,” he stated.

  This was true. If I heard his bike or truck, I was often waiting in the kitchen, close to the back door. But if not, I was in eyesight and my attention was on him coming in said back door and as soon as I could, I made my way there.

  “I’d never been separating laundry when you got home,” I explained.

  “Millie, I come home, you greet me.”

  These words were firm.

  These words were a demand.

  “You’re being bossy.”

  My words were a warning.

  “I come home, you greet me,” he repeated.

  “The annoying kind,” I went on.

  “I get home, babe, you greet me.”

  I stiffened.

  Because I got it.

  Then I walked the three feet separating us as I said quietly, “I’m right here, Snooks. In the laundry room, doing our laundry.”

  He reached to me, one arm around me pulling me closer, one hand sifting his fingers into the side of my hair.

  In return, I slid my arms around his middle.

  We held each other for a few beats before he spoke.

  “Maybe never get used to havin’ you back,” he said. “Maybe never get used to comin’ home to you again. Like it when your eyes are to the door, tellin’ me you’re glad I’m home. Maybe won’t need that forever. Just sayin’, I need it now.”

  And I needed to hang on. Hang on to the words Kellie told me. Hang on to rejoicing in the now. Doing that and not sliding into getting stuck on remembering all we’d lost and how that affected both of us.

  “Then I’ll give it to you,” I told him.

  “Thanks, beautiful,” he replied, bending his neck to give me a swift kiss before he let me go to shrug off his cut.

  “You want a beer?” I asked.

  “Yup,” he answered.


  I went to the fridge.

  When I’d popped his beer, I saw him at the kitchen island.

  “Got your purse,” he said, his eyes coming to me.

  The purse, the same one Deb had at lunch but mine electric blue, was on the island.

  I grinned at him and brought his beer to him.

  “Yup,” I answered.

  He took the beer, then tapped the other things on the island.

  “What’s this shit?” he asked.

  I looked down at the plethora of gift cards I’d also bought at the mall. It wasn’t the plastic version of a shopping spree to end all shopping sprees, but it did herald fun.

  “Gift cards,” I told him.

  “Know that,” he said, dropping his beer after taking a pull. “For who? You got someone’s birthday comin’ up?”

  “No. I have two tweenie girls coming to spend the weekend at my house so I have two attempts at bribery, this in hopes of using it to pave the way to loving me, even if it’s for a moment and all based on materialism.”

  His head jerked to the side. “You’re givin’ that shit to my girls?”

  “I would have asked before I got them but they’re gift cards. They don’t expire. If you think it’s a bad idea, I can put them in their Christmas stockings or something.”

  He looked down to the cards.

  As he did, I tried to decide if I wanted a beer or a glass of wine.

  He looked to me.

  Then he smiled.

  “Zadie’s gonna love that shit,” he said.

  I smiled back.

  “Cleo’s gonna like it too,” he continued.

  I decided against beer and wine and instead getting a dose of Logan.

  So I leaned into him, giving him a lot of my weight.

  He rounded me with the arm that didn’t have a hand holding a beer.

  “They’re gonna love you,” he told me.

  I wanted that. I wanted that for me.

  But more, I wanted it for him.

  “Yeah,” I replied.

  His arm gave me a squeeze. “Can’t help but happen, baby.”

  I gave him more of my weight.

  “Love you, Snooks,” I whispered.

  “Back at ya,” he replied. Then he lifted his beer, took another tug, and looked down at me. “Now, what you gonna feed your man?”

  “Hamburgers,” I told him, pulling away. “But I need to get a load of laundry in. I don’t wanna be doing it while the girls are here.”