Lewis finally looked abashed. Embarrassed. He spit out ketchup.
“You owe Parker an apology. Not everyone has to live in a mansion,” I said. “Apologize right this minute and make it sincere.” I held the ketchup bottle up again to show that I meant business.
It was like looking at bloodied first graders trying to get up the gumption to apologize. They were both flushed and upset.
“Okay.” Lewis stuck out his hand and wiped his face with his arm. “I’m sorry, Parker. The comment about your home was uncalled for. You have a cool house. Great view. I love the lake.”
Parker shook his hand. “I’m sorry I called you an entitled, wealthy, spoiled worm. That wasn’t nice.”
Lewis teared up. “You know I get tired of being called stuff like that.”
Parker nodded. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“You two are half-brothers,” Logan drawled. “You’ve got to learn to get along better.”
Everyone clapped again. They loved a fight and sincere apologies, especially between brothers.
“Now apologize to Bellini,” Logan said. “Right now.”
They both apologized, sincerely, with heart.
“Thank you. But you know fighting is not allowed in here so you two can’t come back until Christmas caroling night,” I said, crossing my arms. “I cannot have fighting in this fine establishment.”
Parker was so unhappy he actually gasped. “Not until Christmas caroling?”
“No.” I opened the door, shoved Parker out with Logan’s help, and said, “You’re both out.”
“That long?” Lewis said, following his half-brother.
“That long,” Logan said. “Goodbye.”
“Shoot,” Lewis said. “Look what you did, Parker.” And they were at it again. This time, Lewis called Parker an “odd little hermit,” and Parker called Lewis an “inveterate snob, an egotistical piece of algae scum” and accused him of “ruining my Christmas,” to which Lewis said if Parker did not come to his house for Christmas dinner, he would “never speak to him again.”
As they continued their argument down the street, I whirled on Logan, the red Western-style doors shutting behind us. The cool air and quiet felt soothing after the heat and cacophony of the bar, but I wasn’t soothed. “Honestly, I do not need rescuing or help. I can handle everything myself.”
“Yes, you can. I know. You’ve always been clear about that, Bellini.” There was an edge to his voice.
“What’s that supposed to mean? Why did you say it like that?”
The wind picked up the snow and swirled it. “It means that you’re independent. You clearly don’t need help. I get it. You run your own life, and you’re capable and competent. You don’t need a man, you don’t need me, to do any rescuing.”
I’m a feminist, but the thought of having Logan around, Logan in my life, protective and strong, someone to talk to and laugh with, someone to cry on, someone to play chess with and talk about books—oh, I wanted that.
I had to acknowledge that it was pretty romantic for him to leap right between Parker and Lewis when they were swinging at each other. He didn’t want me to get hurt, and he shovedboth men away and sent them tumbling. He was always like that when we were together. It started in second grade when a boy pushed me to the ground, and Logan came flying across the playground to help me. He grabbed the frightened kid, lifted him off his feet, and told him, “If you ever push Bellini again, I will beat you up.”
It happened again in middle school when a new boy hit on me and wouldn’t let me step around him, trying to trap me against my locker. He made rude comments and tried to press his body to mine. When I struggled, he grabbed my hair. I remember how scared I was, but my temper leaped out like a sledgehammer. I was getting ready to shove my books into the guy’s chest and knock him over when Logan grabbed the back of the boy’s jacket, spun him around, and sent him smashing into the lockers across the hall. That guy didn’t bother me anymore, but he was in jail for assault by the time he was seventeen.
Logan wanted to defend and protect. It was instinctive.
I thought I might cry. I missed that about him.
“I’m sorry, Bellini. I didn’t mean to upset you…” He pushed a hand through his dark hair and suddenly looked exhausted. “Are you okay, Bellini? You didn’t get hurt, did you? Damn. I am so mad at them. You could have been hit by either one.”
“No, no. I’m not hurt.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I…I didn’t mean to get so angry at you for helping me. I’m sorry, Logan. I…”
