A pinging phone awakened me from a mid-day nap. I glanced at the screen.
Mark: Busy?
Even sleepy, I would never pass up an opportunity to see Mark.
Me: Not busy
Mark: Olde Tyme Grill in 15?
Pushing upright, I grimaced at my reflection in the mirror. I hadn’t made it into the shower today, but Mark wouldn’t care. Fresh clothes and scented lotion should do the trick.
Me: On my way
I parked next to his truck in Old Tyme Grill’s potholed lot. Inside, the familiar odors of grilled beef and fried potatoes rolled over me in a wave of nostalgia. Our group of friends had used this place in high school as an off-campus study hall. Only four years ago—but it seemed like longer.
At the rear of the dining area, Mark leaned against our favorite booth, his smile wide. I pasted on a matching smile and hurried toward him.
“Hey, Benita.” He pulled me into his arms and hugged me like he meant it.
“Hi.” I gave into the pleasure of this feeling—the pure happiness of an old friend’s embrace. I hugged back, then eased away. We slid onto the worn red vinyl of opposite booth benches.
“It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other,” he said.
“Since Christmas break.”
“You look great.”
“Thanks.” I didn’t, but I knew he wasn’t lying. He really believed it. I gestured to the items crowding the table top. “For me?”
“Yeah. I don’t think it’s possible to be at Olde Tyme Grill without fries and tea. So go ahead and eat while we get the boring stuff out of the way. Tell me about school.”
“It was fine. Exams wore me out.” Not the whole truth, but the rest fell outside the boring label. “Congratulations. You’re a college graduate.”
His eyes brightened. “A Bachelor of Social Work.”
“Soon to be someone’s husband.”
“Yeah. I can’t wait.” He brushed tenderly at the ring finger of his left hand. It had a tattoo of interlocking S’s. A band of ink.
“Wow. Let me see. When did you get a tattoo?”
“In December, after I gave Susanna the engagement ring. She got one, too.”
I couldn’t imagine the kind of persuasion that would have taken. “How is the bride?”
“Beautiful.” He ducked his head, as if dazed by his good fortune. “Perfect.”
Ah. He was besotted. I was envious. “Is she busy with wedding plans?”
“No. We’re leaving it to Mom and Gran to fight for supremacy. Susanna and I will just show up. Oh, and hey. Thanks for the music. I don’t know many people who can say they have a famous cellist playing at their wedding.”
“I’m not famous, but I am looking forward to it.” Really looking forward to it. Anticipation was giving me a high. I hadn’t been this excited about a performance in months. I snagged a fry the size of a breadstick and twirled it in ketchup. “How’s the job search going?”
His face fell. “Not good. I’ve applied for everything in the area I remotely qualify for. And…nothing. No calls, no interviews, no emails.”
“Fortunately for you, there’s no hurry. Susanna’s making an income, and once you’re married, she can carry you on her health insurance. Right? Don’t paramedics get full benefits?”
“Yes to both, but I don’t want my wife taking care of me.”
“Whoa. Wait. Please tell me you haven’t said something like that in Susanna’s earshot.”
He shrugged.
“And yet, she’s still marrying you.” Susanna must have mellowed. A lot. “When the roles were reversed a few years ago, you didn’t mind taking care of her.”
“No, but she minded.” He snorted. “Okay, you’re right. That sounded worse than I intended. So I’ll rephrase. I want to get a job that uses my degree and not be a burden on my wife.”
He’d taken his last-ever final exam three days ago. He ought to relax. “Isn’t the government always hiring social workers?”
“For Child Protective Services. I prefer to work with adults.”
How weirdly ironic. He desperately wanted a job, and I desperately did not.
His phone buzzed. As he read the message, his whole demeanor changed, grumpiness flipping to joy. “Susanna and Logan are here. They’re coming in.” His phone buzzed again. “Shit.” He looked up. “I forgot to tell you about him.”
“I know who Logan is.” Susanna spoke highly of her training officer. The best paramedic. The best teacher.
Mark’s gaze was locked on the entrance. “He plays the guitar.”
“Okay?” Not sure why I needed to know.
He popped to his feet, his grin adorably sweet. Two people stood at the door, dressed in matching royal blue shirts and black cargo pants. The shorter one—by nearly a foot—was Mark’s fiancée. Susanna hurried toward us, flashing me a smile before launching into his arms.
She permitted a modest peck of a kiss, her cheeks faintly pink from the PDA, then turned to me. “Hello, Benita. How are you?”
It wasn’t a throwaway line with her. “I’m good.”
“Truly?”
“Yeah.” My throat clogged with emotion. I’d missed her.
The other paramedic stopped just outside our circle. I had an impression of a big man, five or six inches taller than me, the movement of his body precise and controlled.
He nodded. “Mark.”
“Logan. This is my friend, Benita.”
The man’s assessing gaze swept me head to toe. “Hello.”
“Hi.” I studied him with the same clinically-detached thoroughness. Logan looked like a younger version of Henry Golding. Sexy brown eyes. Dark hair cut short on the sides and longer on top. Filled out his uniform nicely. I felt a mild prick of curiosity and immediately dismissed it. Susanna would finish her training soon. I wasn’t likely to see him again.
She nudged Mark toward their bench, then slipped in beside him, snuggling closer when he took her hand. Logan dragged a chair over from another table and sat at the booth’s end. I pressed my back to the wall to keep them all in view.
With her gaze on me, she elbowed Mark. “Did you tell Benita?”
“Not yet.” He winced at me, his expression apologetic. “Susanna asked Logan to play at the wedding.”
I froze in shock. They asked Logan to play. Instead of me?
No. That didn’t make sense. Mark had just thanked me.
The same Mark who is now staring back at me guiltily.
Bowing my head, I faked an interest in the fries, anything to hide my reaction, because this was…soul-crushing. I sucked my lips into my mouth and fought the urge to cry.
Why were they giving the music to Logan? Were they worried that my kind of music wasn’t right for them?
I could hardly breathe. The promise of being a part of their wedding day had gotten me through the semester. I reached for another fry and hoped my hand didn’t shake. “Okay. I understand.” I didn’t.
“Duets,” Logan said. A man of few words.
Wait. Duets?
I blinked at him. “With me?”
“Yes.” His eyebrow arched.
I stared, trying to process the word. Duets.
“Will you mind?” Susanna asked.
Mind? Yes. When Mark called to ask me in January, I had been thrilled. Had neglected my class assignments to design and practice a program. It would have been my perfect wedding gift to my two best friends. Maybe they hadn’t intended this news as a rejection, but it felt like it just the same. I hid my clenched hands in my lap and said lightly, “No, it’s fine.”
She studied me carefully, then nodded. “Thank you. I am sure it will be lovely.”
Logan leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. His gaze dropped to my fists, then back to my face, his expression unreadable.
“So, babe,” Mark said, “Did you get called to the pileup on I-540?”
“Yes, we did. Five cars with multiple injuries.”
Logan shifted his attention to them. “It straddled the county line. Susanna got her first real experience with Durham County EMS.”
Grateful to Mark for changing the subject, I gave myself something to do, placing four fries on a stack of napkins and painting them with a spiral of ketchup. Logan was using complete sentences now, speaking in a smooth baritone, gesturing with his lean hands. While his facial expressions might be neutral, his voice was not. The man loved his job.
I only half-listened to their teasing and laughter, my thoughts obsessed with duets. Could the pieces I’d chosen be adapted? Would Logan want to make selections of his own?
“Benita, I am sorry.” Susanna said. “I haven’t asked about your semester.”
I took a calming breath and looked up. “There’s not much to say. It was busy. I’m glad it’s over.”
“Is everything alright? You seem distracted.”
Yes, I was distracted. I’d been blindsided by their announcement and had to suck it up in front of a stranger. Should I tell her—?
Two pagers went off.
Logan leapt from the chair and carried it back to its table as he read the message. “I’ll drive,” he said, already weaving through the dining room.
When Susanna started to follow, Mark caught her hand. “Babe?”
She leaned close and whispered in his ear.
“Me, too.” He gave her a quick kiss. Then she was gone, rushing through the tables and out the door.
I sipped from my tea and waited for him to sit again and refocus on me.
“So what do you think?” he asked.
“Duets?”
“Sorry I forgot to mention that.” He grinned, oblivious. “He’s insanely good. I mean, not you good. But when he’s on stage, he’s great.” Mark stopped. Cocked his head. “Logan’s playing at the Blue Moon on Monday. You should come with us.”
“Um…” I swallowed my immediate no. A night out might be good for me, to spend more time with my friends and hear the other half of the wedding duo play. “Okay.”
“Want us to pick you up?”
I shook my head. If I had my own car, I controlled when I left.
“We’ll save you a seat then. Nine o’clock.” He watched me a second, his smile fading. “Seriously, are you upset about the duets? We asked you first. I can talk to Susanna.”
“I’m fine. Really. Monday will be fun.” And maybe, by then, I would have adjusted.
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