“Okay, we will also take half a dozen assorted donuts, oh and can you add two orange juice as well.” Logan pulls out his card and pays for the order before threading his fingers back through mine again.
“Two orange juices?” I question, tilting my head.
“We should probably restore some electrolytes before we go home, don’t you think?” he whispers in my ear.
“Oh my god you are the worst,” I admonish, leaning into him. But he’s right, marathon sex over the past 12 hours has left me feeling a little tender, famished, and quite possibly dehydrated.
“Go find a seat and I’ll bring it over when it’s ready. It really is great to see you both together.” Maggie shoos us away; her smile is softer when she meets my eyes. She knows how big a development in our relationship this is. She saw how devastated I was when it ended all those years ago.
Stepping away from the counter, I return her smile. “Thanks, Maggie.”
Logan leads me to an available table by the window. Pulling out my chair he waits until I’m seated before sitting across from me. The people around us have gone back to their previous conversations and the volume has returned to normal. We are still getting the odd glance but for the most part everyone has moved on. Those who haven’t are probably just jealous of that kiss.
The bakery is almost at capacity, I’m glad we could get a table. There’s a father breaking off pieces of a muffin for a toddler while his wife nurses a baby. A small group of seniorladies are in the corner drinking tea at what appears to be a knitting circle. Across the room, there is a young couple that looks like they are enjoying a breakfast date.
As much as we joke around about the gossip and rumors in town most of it is innocent or completely ridiculous. Just curious neighbours creating something to talk about. No malice intended.
But there are always exceptions, and I just found one as I look around the room and make eye contact with Brian. Normally, I can just ignore him and pretend he doesn’t exist, but I don’t love the smarmy look he is giving us. Logan squeezes my hand to get my attention.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, tilting his head slightly, searching my eyes with concern.
“Nothing.” Sitting up straighter, I smile reassuringly. There was a time when I avoided Brian at all costs. He’s not responsible for the devastation surrounding my father’s death, but his online actions didn’t help any of us. He didn’t remove his affair theory thread from the community FB group until after the funeral. It was tasteless and unkind. He may not have liked my father, but at one time, he cared for my mother.
“I can see it in your face,” he presses. “Tell me what’s wrong,”
“I just caught Brian watching us, that’s all.” I scrunch my nose as Logan runs his fingers up and down mine soothingly.
“Has he said anything?” He narrows his eyes, and I shake my head slightly before he has a chance to turn and look at him.
We pause our conversation when Maggie delivers our order to the table. “Thank you, Maggie.”
“Enjoy your breakfast and each other.” I watch as she glides her way back to the counter, gathering dirty dishes and greeting customers along the way. Her purple glasses match her purple polka dot dress today. I wonder where she shops.
“Hannah,” he tries to capture my attention again, “has he said anything to upset you?”
“No.” Looking up, I meet Logan’s worried eyes.
“You would tell me though, right? Did something happen?”
“Nothing recently, he just makes me uncomfortable sometimes. After you left, he called the house a few times and he stopped by once to see Mom. I asked him to leave, but he was persistent that he needed to talk to her. When Francis showed up, he finally went away. I believe Mason gave him a warning and told him to stay away from us and he did.” I shrug. “It was so long ago now I don’t really like to think about it anymore. I just try to avoid him.”
Though Brian is a constant presence and sometimes a problem in the community, he remains a bit of a mystery. He’s the same age as my parents and grew up in Emerley but he moved away after high school. He was gone for about 15 years, suddenly returning after the death of his parents. Nobody knows where his money comes from, because he has never held a job in town. Of course there has been speculation over the years; nobody can avoid it. Brian spends most of his days right here taking up space, collecting information.
We sit in comfortable silence as we eat our breakfast. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I finished not one but two donuts. No shame here, I’ll probably eat another one before the end of the day.
“I forgot to tell you about a rumor I heard last week, after my children’s art class when the parents were picking up.” Wiping my mouth, I place my napkin on my plate and sit back in my chair and watch his face for a reaction. “It was about you.”
“About me?” He quirks an eyebrow before taking his final sip of coffee.
“Yes, apparently, you have made quite an impression in town. However, I was able to confirm that you are not actuallythe famous street artist Banksy. The kids and parents were all very disappointed.”
“I would think my lack of British accent would have been the giveaway, and possibly my age, but whatever.” He rolls his eyes dramatically.
“Well, you are an exceptional artist,” I say, tapping my finger on my lips like I may be considering the validity of this news.
“On paper and skin, not walls.” Shaking his head in amusement, Logan stands and reaches for me. Rising from my chair, I adjust my bag over my shoulder, grab the box of the remaining donuts, and thread his fingers through mine.
Waving goodbye to Maggie, we walk towards the exit. As we pass Brian, he looks up and meets my eyes. Folding his newspaper, he places it down on the table.
