44. The Stranger

Logan

“Ready to go to the park?” Logan asked Emma as he strapped her into the car seat.

It was summer and ten months since his father’s funeral. The days blurred together as Logan navigated hour after hour on autopilot, wishing he had never seen Hunter, wishing he didn’t go to his hotel room, wishing he’d never got a taste of how things could’ve been—how they should’ve been.

The park had a playground and a large, fenced-in field. Emma was starting a soccer league for first graders in the fall, and he wanted her to be prepared. After a couple of failed block attempts, the ball made its way to a gravel picnic area before reaching the parking lot. A man sitting at one of the picnic tables, watched the ball roll over, stood, and picked it up.

“Hey, thanks, man,” Logan said, raising his hands near his chest.

“No problem,” the man said before tossing it back.

Logan’s phone buzzed in his pocket. “Hello? … Yes … I don’t know, ten more minutes? … Uh, sure … Brewhouse? Alright … a tall latte, anything else? … Great, see ya.”

After a few more kicks, Logan walked Emma over to the local coffee shop about a block away.

“Can I get the chocolate milk latte?” she asked once they were at the counter.

“What?”

“Chocolate milk latte. Mommy knows.”

Logan looked at the barista with raised eyebrows and an open mouth.

“We make her a hot chocolate—that’s what she calls it,” the pretty barista said with a flirty smile. “What’s the name? Amber is your wife, right?”

“I’m Logan. Yes, she’s my wife, unfortunately,” he chuckled, locking eyes with the young woman. The thought of having an affair crossed his mind from time to time. But, affairs took time, planning, lying—effort. Logan couldn’t be bothered. A one-night-stand?

The barista looked over her shoulder a few times and grabbed a pen from the counter as she scribbled something down. “Here’s your receipt. Make sure you don’t lose it because you can rack up points,” she said, biting her bottom lip.

“Thanks … Amanda.” He glanced at her name tag and flashed his pearly whites. Women with ‘A’ names were a bad omen, he was sure of it. He looked around the coffee shop for somewhere to sit but the place was crawling with pseudo-hipsters and housewives.

“You can sit here if you’d like,” a deep voice said nearby. Logan turned to see the man from the park sitting at a table near the window beside him. He had on a white short-sleeve polo, navy chino shorts, and boat shoes. The man’s knees fell open a bit, exposing the tanned skin of his inner thigh.

“No, it’s fine,” Logan said, cutting his eyes away from the man’s thighs.

“I don’t mind,” he insisted with a soft, welcoming smile. A strand of dark hair fell forward over his eye, and it reminded Logan of himself—of his youth.

“Thanks.” Logan sat down and placed Emma in the chair beside him. “I’d take it to go, but I’m not ready to end the day.”

“You were at the park,” his daughter said to the man.

“Yes, I was.” He smiled at her. “You’re a little MVP.”

“My first game is next week, and Daddy says we need to beat all the other kids,” she said matter-of-factly.

Logan winced and then played it off with a quick laugh, looking at the guy and then down at his daughter. “I’m not the crazy sports dad she’s making me out to be.”

“Logan,” one of the baristas shouted his name. His drinks were ready, and he wasn’t sure if he should leave his daughter at the table with a stranger or take her along with him. It was less than four feet away.

“Daddy, I want the coloring sheet,” his daughter whined and then got to her feet.

“I got it, don’t worry,” the man said, rising from his chair. The man walked over to the counter and grabbed the tray with the three drinks on them. “I know the barista was looking forward to having you walk over. Smooth of her to give you her number.”

Logan looked at the receipt, baffled. “I didn’t even notice!” He laughed, his face turning red. His daughter returned with a coloring sheet and some crayons. “It’s actually her social media handle,” Logan said with a cheeky grin, staring at the receipt.

“Who?” his daughter asked.

“Who—who—goes the owl,” Logan deflected, tossing around her long hair on her head.

Over the last couple of years, Emma had become a sponge for information and was just as good at repeating it. She got up, pushed her chair closer to the table and sat up on the metal chair on her knees. She then carefully moved her drink away to make room for her activity sheet.

Logan chuckled to himself, folded the receipt, and put it in his pocket. “I’m a married man.” He studied the man’s face as quickly and as discreetly as he could. “Sorry. Are you from around here?”

“Me? No, I’m in town for the week. Staying just a few blocks away,” he explained.

“Are you in tech?”

“Film. I work with a small production firm based out of Los Angeles.”

“Nice. I’ve always thought that was an interesting field to be in.” Logan made chit chat as he sipped his coffee. “I’m Logan.”

The man smiled. “I heard. I’m Ethan. Ethan Conway.”

“Good to meet you, Ethan. Thanks for letting us sit with you.”

Ethan adjusted himself in his chair and extended his leg, his knee coming dangerously close to Logan’s. “It’s my pleasure. Are you from here?”

“I live a few miles away. But I’m from Indiana—a small town you’ve probably never heard of.”

“Probably not,” Ethan said, shaking his head. “I’m not so great with geography.”

“It’s not worth knowing about. Anyway, I love watching all kinds of films. Is this film an edgy film festival hit or does it have an indie Wes Anderson kind of feel?” Never having said the word “film” so much before, he knew his rambling meant something.

“Neither, unfortunately. It’s a documentary. Not super exciting. We take on contract work. Mostly corporate training and safety videos. Those are the most dull, but I’ve learned all about OSHA guidelines.” He chuckled. “Sorry it’s not more exciting. I won’t be attending any red carpet events any time soon.”

“No, it sounds great.”

“I enjoy it. Is this a good area to make friends?” Ethan asked, looking around the coffee shop.

Logan scratched the side of his scruffy beard. “To be honest, I’m light in the friends department so I wouldn’t know. I mostly work and come home.”

“You seem like a social guy; approachable, likable … handsome.”

Good thing Ethan couldn’t see the reddening of his cheeks through his beard. “I used to be. Back in my prime,” Logan said, tapping his hands on his thighs as he leaned back in his seat. Ethan’s unsettling gaze seemed to make him fidget and he wasn’t sure why.

Thirty minutes flew by before his daughter had to use the bathroom and his phone buzzed almost on cue.

“I should head out, too,” Ethan said.

“It was good meeting you.”

“Hey, listen, if you’re up for it—you should go to this ska-reggae event tonight.” Ethan reached into his pocket and pulled out a pink flyer. “I think this place is local.”

“Looks cool. I’ll check it out,” Logan said as he glanced at the flyer. “Will you be there?”

“Otherwise, I wouldn’t be inviting you.”

“You’re inviting me?” Logan joked with a sheepish grin on his face.

“Later.” Ethan smiled and walked out the door.