Chapter 100
He slid another drink in front of me, and then sat down with a box of seasoned French fries.
"Well?" I asked as he devoured a few fries.
He let out a deep breath as he watched me.
I finished my first drink and set it aside, and then pulled the other in front of me. Then, I looked at him expectantly. "What's going on?"
He sat back against the seat and sighed. I held my breath as I watched him. Usually, Frank was up front with me about everything. I'd never seen him quite so reluctant to tell me something. He leaned forward and folded his hands on the table, the fries forgotten. "Logan's alive."
My head began to spin, and I gripped the table for support. "Are you sure?"
He nodded as he placed his hand over mine. "Yes."
"Oh, God!" I said as I leaned over onto the table.
"Breathe," Frank said, and then shoved my drink at me.
I picked it up and downed it.
Frank rubbed my hand as he waited.
Tears welled up in my eyes. "But how? You said you went to his funeral."
He nodded. "I did," he said, just as confused as I was. "His parents had a funeral for him and everything." Frank motioned toward the bartender and pointed to me. The bartender nodded. "The truth is that he broke his back and was nearly temporarily paralyzed. It took him several years to recover. From what I can gather, he was determined to walk again, and he did."
"Oh my God!" I said as tears streamed down my face.
The bartender slid another drink in front of me. "This one's on the house." He patted my shoulder and walked away.
I didn't even acknowledge it. "How could this be? I should have been there for him! I should have "
"What?" Frank said, suddenly the voice of reason. "Hell! His parents even told his friends and band members that he was dead! I saw them at the funeral, and they were heartbroken!" Frank shook his head. "Afterward, they must have locked him away in their mansion to recover."
I shook my head, unable to believe what I was hearing. I picked up the drink and downed it. Finally, the liquor started to work its magic, spreading warmth throughout my body. "Where is he now?" I asked, setting the glass down a bit too hard.
Frank took my hands in his own and gave them a gentle squeeze to claim my attention. "He lives in New York still."
I shook my head as I bit my lower lip. "At his parents' mansion, I assume."
He nodded.
They had an opportunity to get their grubby mitts on him again, and now they had no intention of letting go.
"Why didn't he try to contact me?" I asked as anger started to fill my body. "Why did he let me think that he was dead all this time? Why?"
People around us started to look, but I was way beyond caring.
"I don't know, pumpkin," Frank said, using the nickname he used when he felt fatherly toward me. "But, knowing Logan, he probably had his reasons. I don't know."
"My God!" I said, my brain trying to process it all.
He nodded. "I know, sugar," he said as he gave my hand a gentle squeeze.
I stood up too abruptly and my head began to spin, the alcohol hitting me hard. "I have to go to New York! I have to find him!"
Frank pulled me back down in my seat. "Not now, you're not!"
My eyes flared. "Watch me!" I looked around, but saw nothing. "Oh my God! What am I going to do? I just started dating Curt, and now I find out that Logan's alive?" It was just too much for me to bear. I positioned my elbows on the table and leaned my forehead against my hands. Then, I looked up abruptly. "I should have never started seeing Curt!"
Frank rubbed my hand. "Don't say that," he said, his voice merely a whisper. "Alyssa, you haven't even dated anyone since Logan. It's okay to date. You and Logan weren't even married."
"But we were in my heart," I said as tears trickled down my cheeks. "From the first moment I saw him, I knew that there would be no one else for me but him."
Frank shook his head. "Alyssa, he may have changed. He might not be the same person."
I shook my head. "He couldn't have changed that much." I looked directly into his eyes as a thought occurred to me. "Can you get me a flight?"
"Oh no, you don't!" Frank said. And from the look on his face, I was sure he would have tackled me right there in front of everyone if I would have attempted to leave in this state. "You can't go flying off to New York chasing old ghosts!" He bit his lower lip, and then lowered his voice. "Alyssa, give it a few days or a week to sink in. Then, if you want to go to New York with a clear head, then go with my blessing. But not right now."
I nodded, trying to process it all.
The bartender suddenly slid another drink in front of me. "Here you go."
"Thanks," I said as I reached for my purse.
But both the bartender and Frank said in unison, "It's on me."
I smiled at them both. "Thank you."
Frank said to him, "Keep 'em coming."
He nodded, and then walked away.
I took a sip of my drink-my fourth one-and was starting to feel the effects of the alcohol. "How could this be? How could he let me think that he was dead all this time?" I shook my head as a fresh wave of tears streamed down my face. "He's not a cruel person. He wouldn't have done that to me " Then, it hit me. "I'd bet that his mother had something to do with this. They had his funeral, after all. Probably to keep everyone away from him. And hard telling what she told him about me. That bitch!" I picked up my drink and downed it, but it went straight to my head. "Frank, I have to get out of here."
