After a hearty lunch - that I at least tasted and brought the rest as leftovers - I drove over to the inn in town to settle in for the night.

I could have met with my parents' lawyer earlier to get the keys to their - I mean, my childhood home. But I wasn't ready.

I gathered all my luggage and leftovers, then lumbered my way into the lobby. There I exchanged pleasantries and received condolences from the elderly couple that owned the inn. I vaguely remembered the wife babysitting me once as a kid. But otherwise, my memory wiped their existence from my brain.

After getting my keys for at least tonight, I waved to them politely and turned in the direction they indicated my room was.

As soon as I turned the lock and entered the cozy inn suite, I dropped to the ground, pushing the door shut behind me.

"I should be crying," I barely breathed the words aloud, feeling the weight of my body with every breath I took.

I could feel it earlier when Beth watched me carefully with each bite. Her confused gaze both troubled and alienated me.

Even the call from the lawyer perplexed me. Granted, he had been a friend of my father's for years. But even he had more emotion at that moment than I did right now.

Let's be clear - I didn't hate my parents.

They raised me well and never discouraged me from pursuing my dreams.

But we were all stubborn. Prideful. Dancing around the truth of how we really felt.

That was our relationship's fatal flaw. And it only got worse with a fiancé involved.

- - -

Back in college, I used to spend the majority of my lunches out on the quad. I loved the sunshine and the energy, watching students walk from class to class or play frisbee during an open hour.

I had an extra reason to enjoy my lunch on that unusually warm April day. The boy I had a crush on from my economics class was playing soccer - shirtless - with his buddy across from my usual spot.

He was textbook "tall, dark, and handsome" and I was...thin, gangly, and ginger-haired. We exchanged glances every so often in class and I'd detect a hint of a smile on his face, but I was convinced it was my imagination.

I wasn't sure at that time if it were luck, or on purpose - and I'd certainly find out later - but it seemed like one of those "meant to be moments" when I saw him on the quad that day.

"Watch out!" I looked up from my textbook that I was semi-spying behind to find a rogue soccer ball flying towards my face.

And my shirtless crush barreling into me.

We tumbled backward on the lawn a few feet, a tangle of limbs, my backpack, a torn textbook, and the soccer ball. We came to a halt and I was left breathless with my eyes squeezed shut as I lay on the ground. I could feel his breath above me.

"Are you...ok?" He panted breathlessly after a long moment.

I nodded, too afraid to open my eyes. I didn't know where I would stare. As someone who was far beyond a late bloomer and never dated in high school, this was probably the first time I was so close to a half-naked man my age.

He patted my head gently and I sensed him push off the ground and gingerly off of me. "Here, let me help you up."

I opened my eyes and found him reaching over me, hand outstretched, chest heaving. I didn't know how to name the feeling rushing from my chest to every vein in my body.

I later found out it was adrenaline-laced arousal. But that's a story for another time.

"Oh, thank you." I finally found my words and accepted his grasp. He reached in with his other hand lightly on my waist when I struggled to stand up.

"It's the least I could do." He slowly withdrew his hands from me. "I didn't mean to literally knock you over."

I laughed and brushed off my clothes, finding my eyes tracing the same details I'd absentmindedly followed in class - among others usually hidden.

"So..." I started slowly, not sure how to ask what was nagging at my tongue. "What did you mean to do?"

He laughed and nodded at me, as if to say, "you got me." It was that ability to read each other I found so charming at first.

And sometimes, you only read what you want to see.

"I meant to ask you out," he confessed, shrugging his shoulders with a cheeky grin.

So that was the first time I said "yes" to Logan Saylor.