Can't Let Go(19)

“Ingrid will have to settle down and do her own job, that’s what I say,” Martin offered, taking a sip of the coffee in front of him. There was a look of annoyance in his eyes, but nothing close to disappointment. Logan gained another edge of respect for the older man, partially against his own will. “My little Abby works herself to death for that woman and what does she get?”

“It’s a gossip rag.” Eric said, his tone one of irritation. Logan was about to speak—about to jump to Abby’s defense—when she spoke.

“Gossip rag or not, Eric. It’s my job. And I work hard. I deserve a little credit.” When he heard her repeating his words, he couldn’t help the grin that crept onto his lips. So she had been paying attention. That was something, wasn’t it?

“That’s what I say as well, dear.” Martin smiled, passing another look between Abby and Logan. “Well, I don’t want to overstay my welcome, so I think it’s about time Mr. Thompson and I make our way back to the airport. Who knows how long we’ll have to wait to catch a flight.”

“Already?” Abby asked, and Logan could tell she was thoroughly disappointed. She was happy that he had come. Happy that he had been there to support her. But as everyone rose from the booth, it became apparent that there was no stopping them.

“Well, first I need to find a restroom.” Martin said with a smile. “I’ll meet you all out front. Go on.” The three of them began to walk toward the door when Logan stopped, not wanting to intrude on the few moments the two would have together.

“You two go ahead. I’ll just hang back here for a bit.” Something in him sensed that the soon-to-be married couple would need their privacy.

“You’re sure?” Abby asked, questioning him. He nodded, waving them on. He watched as they stepped outside. Abby’s arms were crossed over her chest, Eric standing a good couple of feet away. He could tell they were going to argue.

He sighed then, turning back and making his way to the counter, where various photos were arranged. Logan felt a pang in his chest as he looked them over, remembering everything. And then he came to the photo of the four of them, taken the night of the wedding. Abby was dressed in a something similar to what she wore now, Logan wearing a plain white dress shirt and black tie.

“She was happy then.” The voice startled him and Logan turned, finding Martin standing beside him. “Carefree, you know. The way it always is with first love.”

“We all were.” Logan said, not sure of what he was supposed to say.

“She’s a beautiful girl, isn’t she?” Logan didn’t hesitate to nod. “She’s my pride and joy, Mr. Sheppard. I’d do anything for her.”

“She feels the same about you.”

“Abigail’s done enough sacrificing for one lifetime, wouldn’t you say?” Logan felt the older man reach up and set his hand on Logan’s shoulder, his eyes boring into Logan’s. “I would give anything to see her this way again, you know. I want her to be happy. You think that’s possible?”

“Anything’s possible, Sir.” It seemed as if the older man was trying to send Logan a message—but he wasn’t quite sure what he was asking. Did Abby’s father have something against her current relationship? Or was he just asking, from Logan’s perspective, having known Abby when she was carefree and so full of life, if he thought it was possible she would have that once again?

“It’s Marty, Logan. Call me Marty.” Martin patted him on the back then before slipping into his jacket. “It was good to finally meet you.”

“Same here,” he replied, still slightly bewildered.

“If you ever make it out to our neighborhood, you should stop by. We could talk architecture.”

“Definitely,” Logan agreed. “Have a safe flight.”

“You have a good night.” As Logan watched Abby’s father’s retreating figure, he couldn’t help but feel as if something important had just taken place. As if, in some way, Martin Lewis has just given Logan his blessing.

He glanced back over his shoulder. It was obvious that Abby was angry with Eric, even as she wrapped her arms around her father. She didn’t reach out to Eric when she turned to say goodbye to him. He watched her lips move, watched her wave as they walked away.

And as Logan watched, he tried to make sense of what it was he was supposed to do.



~*~



They drove back to the motel, carting various loads of flowers and photos. By the time everyone had left, the sun was already beginning to fade. Logan knew they should probably head back—but something in him didn’t want the day to end.

“Hey Abby?” He questioned, navigating the familiar roads.

“Hm?” She responded, lost in her thoughts.

“Well—I was just wondering—would you mind if we made a little bit of a pit stop?” He glanced over at her quickly before turning his eyes back to the road.

“You have something to do?” He shook his head.

“No—not exactly.” He sighed. “It’s just—there’s this ice cream parlor in town. They have the most amazing—” Abby didn’t let him finish.

“You want to get ice cream?” Her tone was an incredulous one. Logan mentally kicked himself, knowing that he had taken it too far.

But then he heard her light laughter flooding the cab of his truck. “Well, I think that would be the perfect ending to a day like today.” And it was true. She couldn’t think of anything Hayley would have loved more. A celebration—not a mourning—through and through.

“You’re sure?” Abby nodded, her eyes finding his.

“This had better be some phenomenal ice cream, Mr. Sheppard.” Abby couldn’t deny the smile on her lips. She felt lighter than normal—happier. She didn’t even care about the argument she’d had with Eric. What did it matter what he thought? He would disapprove of ice cream nearly as much as he had disapproved of her dress. But he hadn’t known Hayley—he hadn’t understood their bond.

Logan did.

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. There was a smile on his face as well. Strange, it having been such a sad day—but she and Logan both knew that this was exactly what their friends would have wanted. And they would have wanted them to do it together.

The ice cream parlor was in the middle of town—very alive on a Saturday night. Logan parked along the crowded street a bit of a ways away, knowing they would have to walk. “It’s pretty busy,” Abby noted.

“Like I said—it’s pretty amazing.” Abby laughed again and Logan reveled in it, letting it wash over him. “Shall we?”

“We shall,” she responded, opening her door and hopping out of the truck. She smoothed the skirt of her dress down before Logan appeared at her side, offering his arm. “Always the gentleman,” she commented, slipping hers through his. It was so comforting, how familiar all of this was. She could have sworn it had all happened before—and maybe it had, in another life. She remembered nights very much like this one back in Boston—the four of them going out on dates, laughing and enjoying the company of one another.

It almost felt as if Hayley and Blake were there with them now.

“I used to come here with Hayley and Blake—at least once a week. You know how Hayley was about her ice cream.” Logan told her, as if reading her mind. Hayley had always been a fiend for ice cream—it was probably her favorite dessert. Abby nodded, smiling a sad smile at the memory, but glad to hear that Logan was thinking the same thing she was. “She loved this place.”

“Well if it’s good enough for Hayl, it’ll be good enough for me.” They were nearing the line now, Abby able to look at the menu. She immediately knew what she was going to get—and as they approached the window, Abby was startled to find Logan placing the order.

“We’ll take two cones, please. Both cherry vanilla.” He paused. “Oh, and can I get one of those dipped in chocolate please? With a few nuts sprinkled on top?” Abby eyed him suspiciously. “What? I got it right, didn’t I?”

“How could you have possibly remembered that after so long?” He shrugged his shoulders.

“It’s your favorite.” Abby only smiled softly, shaking her head. Logan Sheppard would never cease to amaze her. “You used to order it all the time, everywhere we went.” It was true—it had been her favorite for as long as she could remember. She just hadn’t expected Logan to remember such an insignificant little detail. She was sure if she asked Eric what her favorite ice cream was, he wouldn’t even come close.

“Since when did you start eating cherry vanilla?” She asked, perching herself on the edge of a picnic table while they waited. “Weren’t you always a butter pecan kind of guy?” Logan shrugged his shoulders, looking at the ground awkwardly for a moment.