The love I still have for my husband isn’t what I’m tired of pretending. I love Logan just as much as the day I married him. It’s the illusion we’re living the life we dreamed of.
The disappointment in my life is internal. It isn’t Logan’s love that is leaving me feeling like something is missing, it’s more like an absence of something else. I just haven’t been able to put my finger on it. Maybe fixing the shed in my back yard will fill the void I’m feeling.
If my fake smile fails, Logan doesn’t let on that he knows. He lifts his wrist, illuminating the time on his black smartwatch as he walks over to the sink, rinsing out his coffee mug. “I should get going.”
“Okay.” I glance at the time displayed in green on the microwave. “It’s pretty early.”
“I know.” He pouts. He walks over to me and places his hands on both sides of my head. His fingers thread through my hair. “It’s my turn to take inventory this week and Max wants me to teach the new sous chef how we do it for when I’m not there.” Logan extends his arm, gently placing his fingertips on my elbow. “Sorry, Len.”
“It’s okay.” I shrug, unable to look Logan in the eye. I don’t want him to see the disappointment in mine.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m proud of where Logan is in his career. Back in Providence, he worked as a server at a prominent upscale restaurant, Bar Americano. The circumstances in which I had first seen Logan were ones I wish didn’t exist. Bar Americano was my ex-boyfriend, Julian’s, favorite restaurant. He used to tell me it showed others how high our status was in society. It reminded people that we were better than them. In hindsight, Julian’s incessant need to go to Bar Americano, at least once a week, was what led me to find Logan in the first place. Since moving out to Washington, Logan has done everything in his power to follow his dream of becoming a chef. Now that he has finally become head chef at one of Seattle’s best restaurants, he’s actively trying to prove to the owner how capable he is of working the restaurant without Max there. It’s Logan’s dream to run a restaurant of his own one day and I haveno desireto hold him back from his dreams, even if mine haven’t been so easily obtained. Logan being tasked with showing the new sous chef how to take inventory is just another step to earning Max’s trust in Logan.
“I know I’m busy today but maybe I can come home for lunch. You aren’t swamped with clients, are you?” Logan’s already standing on the other side of the kitchen, reaching for his keys sitting on the counter.
I pause, swallowing the thin film of coffee coating my mouth. “Um, no. I have one design to finish up for a hair salon in Tennessee then I have a meeting with a new client at three this afternoon. I told her I would meet her at the coffee shop in town.”
“Sounds like we have a date then.” Logan gives me that same smile that stole my heart from the day we met. The way the right side of his mouth curled slightly higher than the left. The way the dimple in his left cheek deepened even further. His smile used to make my thighs tense and my skin ignite. Over the past year, Logan and I have been able to keep the momentum going in our marriage. But then there are days like today where I feel stuck. Stuck in a life haunted by the memories of the life I had before this one.
“It’s a date.” I give Logan a reassuring smile. He’s still grinning at me, the dimple still indenting his left cheek. Sometimes I wish Logan didn’t have to go to work and I didn’t have my meetings with clients. Sometimes I envision a life where both of us could lock ourselves away, tangling ourselves beneath the safety of our bedsheets and each other’s arms. Some days I missed Logan’s love, most days I craved it.
Less than a year ago, when Logan and I first settled in Washington, I needed to find a way to make money.
In the beginning of mine and Julian’s relationship, he was kind and admired the fact that I loved art as much as he did. But over time, the supportive Julian I had fallen in love with began to change. He slowly started to become controlling and condescending. I had a passion for graphic design, but Julian believed it was a lesser form of art. It quickly drove a wedge in our relationship and over time I started to resent him for it.
I didn’t want my art to be in museums. I wanted my art to be displayed for others. I wanted it to mean something to someone, personally.
Because of Julian’s manipulation, I decided to take back my passion for art, to take back what was originally mine. I knew I always wanted to turn my love for graphic design into a business and now that Julian was out of my life, I could finally take it back. Therefore, L Moore Designs was born. Before I had left Providence, the drive to start my own design business began to grow and once we made it to Washington, I began offering design services for small businesses across the country.
Even though I’ve built my business from the ground up, there are days where the passion is lost on me. Some days my work feels automatic and sterile. The deep-rooted feeling reminds me of when I was sixteen and forced to help my dad file lawsuit documents in his office. Routine and boring.
It seems as if the same feeling
