Read Online She: Part 2 by Annabel Fanning - Free Book Online
Authors: Annabel Fanning
Tags: She
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a conman.
I laugh again. Oh, mom! “He succeeded sometime ago,” I confess, only doing so because I suspect she’ll remember little to none of this conversation after she’s had a good nights sleep.
“I see...” she sounds disapproving. It’s the exact reaction I’ve come to expect from her. The only feelings that she has for men since her divorce from my stepfather six years ago are disdain and disrespect. That a man could be honest and genuinely affectionate is beyond her capacity to comprehend. “And you still think you love him?” she asks, inadvertently telling me that she received my email last week during which I professed my love for Logan to her for the first time.
“Definitely,” I smile again.
She’s silent for a long, telling moment.
I roll my eyes. “Just be happy,” I say, irritated. “It’s a good situation, I promise you.”
“Hmm…”
“ Mom !” I exclaim, my irritation turning to anger.
“Alright,” she says in surrender. “I trust you,” she tells me earnestly. Then changing the subject — which automatically picks up her mood — she says, “So, I just called to say hello, and I figured you’d be up early on your way to work, but obviously you’re playing hooky.”
“I never work on Sundays…”
“It’s Sunday ?” she shouts.
“Yes,” I tell her, my annoyance all but gone and my grin back in place. Discoing a little too much, maybe?
“Not Monday?” she checks.
“It’s Sunday,” I confirm.
“Oh, goodness, I must be having even more fun than I thought,” she giggles.
Fun being codeword for alcohol more like!
“Stay safe,” I impress, “and I’ll see you later in the week,” I say, electing not to tell her about Mary-Gene’s salon appointment, now certain she won’t remember it.
“Si! Take care, darling. Say hello to Logan from me,” she says.
Ah , progress , I think gratefully. “I will,” I smile. “Love you. Bye !”
A little too inebriated to hang up the phone swiftly, I hear her order another round of drinks before the line finally goes dead. Laughing to myself, I turn my phone on silent — no more early morning wakeup calls, thank you very much — and then I creep back into the bedroom as quietly as I can.
It’s pouring rain outside, and so for the next several hours Logan and I just lie in bed, entwined, semi-awake. Hours of making out, falling back asleep, holding one another, listening to the heavy rain, and making out some more. It’s utter bliss! We’ve never given ourselves the time to spend so long like this, but being on holiday is the perfect excuse for our laziness.
It’s past noon when we finally order up room service, our stomachs grumbling loudly. I call down to make the order while Logan stands at the window, surveying the weather. After I hang up I join him, hugging him from behind. I’m almost shocked to see a blue sky outside. The storm has evidently passed.
“I have something planned for this afternoon,” he says, running his hands up and down my arms. “I thought I’d have to cancel, but the water has settled.”
“We’re going out on the water?” I ask, excitedly.
He turns around and nods. His stomach grumbles again, and smiling, he says, “But first the skipper needs to eat.”
* * *
An hour later we walk out along the hotel’s signature, picturesque jetty, and I sigh happily as I take in the view that I’ve waited years to see. So this is what Fitzgerald saw when he wrote my favourite book , I muse, taking in the stunning vista. Joy rises in me. I’m finally here, I’m finally seeing what he saw…and all because of Logan. Feeling full of gratitude, I reach up mid-step to kiss his cheek.
“I love you,” I tell him, and before he can respond, I repeat my words half a dozen times.
I’m eventually quiet enough for him to say, “I love you too, baby. I love seeing you take in this view, knowing that it means so much to you.”
Oh , Logan ! I swoon at his words. His thoughtfulness
I laugh again. Oh, mom! “He succeeded sometime ago,” I confess, only doing so because I suspect she’ll remember little to none of this conversation after she’s had a good nights sleep.
“I see...” she sounds disapproving. It’s the exact reaction I’ve come to expect from her. The only feelings that she has for men since her divorce from my stepfather six years ago are disdain and disrespect. That a man could be honest and genuinely affectionate is beyond her capacity to comprehend. “And you still think you love him?” she asks, inadvertently telling me that she received my email last week during which I professed my love for Logan to her for the first time.
“Definitely,” I smile again.
She’s silent for a long, telling moment.
I roll my eyes. “Just be happy,” I say, irritated. “It’s a good situation, I promise you.”
“Hmm…”
“ Mom !” I exclaim, my irritation turning to anger.
“Alright,” she says in surrender. “I trust you,” she tells me earnestly. Then changing the subject — which automatically picks up her mood — she says, “So, I just called to say hello, and I figured you’d be up early on your way to work, but obviously you’re playing hooky.”
“I never work on Sundays…”
“It’s Sunday ?” she shouts.
“Yes,” I tell her, my annoyance all but gone and my grin back in place. Discoing a little too much, maybe?
“Not Monday?” she checks.
“It’s Sunday,” I confirm.
“Oh, goodness, I must be having even more fun than I thought,” she giggles.
Fun being codeword for alcohol more like!
“Stay safe,” I impress, “and I’ll see you later in the week,” I say, electing not to tell her about Mary-Gene’s salon appointment, now certain she won’t remember it.
“Si! Take care, darling. Say hello to Logan from me,” she says.
Ah , progress , I think gratefully. “I will,” I smile. “Love you. Bye !”
A little too inebriated to hang up the phone swiftly, I hear her order another round of drinks before the line finally goes dead. Laughing to myself, I turn my phone on silent — no more early morning wakeup calls, thank you very much — and then I creep back into the bedroom as quietly as I can.
It’s pouring rain outside, and so for the next several hours Logan and I just lie in bed, entwined, semi-awake. Hours of making out, falling back asleep, holding one another, listening to the heavy rain, and making out some more. It’s utter bliss! We’ve never given ourselves the time to spend so long like this, but being on holiday is the perfect excuse for our laziness.
It’s past noon when we finally order up room service, our stomachs grumbling loudly. I call down to make the order while Logan stands at the window, surveying the weather. After I hang up I join him, hugging him from behind. I’m almost shocked to see a blue sky outside. The storm has evidently passed.
“I have something planned for this afternoon,” he says, running his hands up and down my arms. “I thought I’d have to cancel, but the water has settled.”
“We’re going out on the water?” I ask, excitedly.
He turns around and nods. His stomach grumbles again, and smiling, he says, “But first the skipper needs to eat.”
* * *
An hour later we walk out along the hotel’s signature, picturesque jetty, and I sigh happily as I take in the view that I’ve waited years to see. So this is what Fitzgerald saw when he wrote my favourite book , I muse, taking in the stunning vista. Joy rises in me. I’m finally here, I’m finally seeing what he saw…and all because of Logan. Feeling full of gratitude, I reach up mid-step to kiss his cheek.
“I love you,” I tell him, and before he can respond, I repeat my words half a dozen times.
I’m eventually quiet enough for him to say, “I love you too, baby. I love seeing you take in this view, knowing that it means so much to you.”
Oh , Logan ! I swoon at his words. His thoughtfulness
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