Chapter Text
‘Hey driver!’
You still occasionally cringed at yourself when you thought about that moment. In your defence you had been very drunk, and the driver had been handsome in a rugged sort of way. Almost the complete opposite of your fiancé.
Oh yeah.
Him.
You plodded along to the nearest coffee shop, hoping that a few shots of espresso would perk you up enough to give a damn about your job, your life, whatever else. You’d just returned from delivering back the last of the wedding presents. All unopened, God knows what people bought you. You were sure it was all lovely, but you had no desire to open it and find out. As you handed back the presents to the giver, you received the sympathetic squeeze of the hand, the ‘I’m so sorry’ and occasionally ‘I can’t believe he’d do that!’. Well Aunt Martha, neither could I, you’d think and then smile sadly and leave them to try and find the gift receipt so they could get their money back.
It had been bad enough to discover he’d cheated. It was even worse to discover he’d cheated with your cousin. A cousin who had sat in that damn limo with you on your bachelorette party and celebrated your upcoming wedding. You hadn’t seen her since you found out and the wedding was cancelled. You’d heard from your mother she’d moved to another state for work. Just about the first wise decision she’d made.
***
As you stood in line waiting for the complicated order of the person in front of you to end, you felt a presence at your back. You turned and saw a tall, bearded man, black suit (a little the worse for wear), glasses perched on the end of his nose, tapping something into his phone. You squinted then the recognition hit you. You turned back to face the counter, feeling a hot blush of embarrassment spreading across your face. It was the driver.
The sound of a phone ringing made you jump. You looked around and he was speaking to someone, low and gruff. He seemed annoyed. That tracked with your memories of that night, him just sitting up front, looking like he would rather be anywhere but ferrying a bunch of drunk women around. Were it not for the fact you were paying him handsomely. You did remember his slight smile, however, when you flashed him. He was a guy, of course he was going to smile at a pair of breasts.
When you reached the counter you decided you couldn’t face going to work just yet so ordered your coffee and a pastry and found yourself a quiet table. The man did the same, sitting a few tables away from you, pulling a newspaper out of his jacket and settling down to read it. Who even read newspapers anymore? Like actual physical newspapers? You didn’t realise that you were staring at him so much until he spoke.
‘Can I help you?’
You almost jumped in your seat. When you looked again, he was peering at you over his glasses.
‘Um, sorry, no. You just remind me of someone.’
‘Oh,’ he said and went back to the paper.
You chewed on your lip. Then looked over at him again.
‘Do you drive a limo?’
The man stopped reading and looked at you again, cautious this time.
‘Yeah?’
You let out a breath.
‘I think you might have driven me and my friends for my bachelorette party a few months ago is all,’ you smiled.
He gave you a small smile back.
‘Maybe I did,’ he said.
You picked up your mug and took a far too large swig of coffee, almost choking on it. You looked up to see him reaching across with a bunch of napkins. You coughed and took them.
‘Thank you.’
You noticed he was staring at you.
‘What?’
‘I think I do remember you. All in big puffy dresses? One of you gals flashed me.’
You coughed again.
‘That...that would have been me. Sorry.’
He smiled wider this time.
‘Don’t be sorry, darlin’’
Normally you’d have been creeped out by a guy saying something like that, but for some reason, and you really couldn’t put your finger on it, this guy didn’t give you that feeling.
‘Congratulations,’ he said.
‘For what?’
He raised an eyebrow.
‘For getting married?’
You let out a small harsh laugh.
‘Didn’t happen.’
‘Oh.’
You shrugged.
‘Men are scumbags,’ you said.
He laughed then.
‘Not going to disagree with you on that one, sweetheart.’
Darlin’, sweetheart. What was going on? Normally you’d have jumped down someone’s throat for calling you things like that but with this guy? All the feminism seemed to have drained from your body. Also, why were you telling him any of this?
While you were contemplating your life choices, you noticed him standing up, putting his glasses and newspaper away and heading to the door. You slumped back in your seat. Great. Now some complete stranger had gone off for his day thinking about your tits. Sterling work.
***
To compound your embarrassment, you started to see him regularly over the coming weeks. Sometimes just a nod of the head hello, sometimes you’d both have time to sit. Small talk wasn’t really your thing and it wasn’t his either. You did find out his name though – Logan. Nice, you thought. He never dressed in anything but the suit, tie, white shirt. A simple uniform for his job, you supposed. Though you chatted, you wouldn’t go so far as to say you were friends. You thought that he was maybe lonely. Couldn’t be much fun driving people around for hours on end. You could spare to give him a few minutes of your time.
A few months later, you ran into him in a professional capacity. A coworker was getting married and for some reason you had been invited along to her bachelorette party. You tried to demure, citing that you weren’t exactly a good luck omen for brides to be, but she was insistent. So, you got into your dress, a slinky off the shoulder number, slipped on some heels and went outside to wait for the car you were told was picking everyone up. You weren’t outside for long when a limo pulled up. A limo with a smattering of buckshot in the door. Not many limos like that.
The driver’s side door opened and you watched as Logan got out and walked around the front of the car.
‘Hi,’ you said.
‘Hey,’ he said, opening the door for you. You gave him a smile and got into the back of the limo.
Inside were a couple of people already and you were soon busy talking with them about the night to come.
***
The evening seemed to never end. Club after bar after club, with Logan ferrying you all to each of them. Your feet hurt, you didn’t want to drink anymore and you were starving, but every time you thought about escaping and getting a cab home, you were dragged back to the festivities. As you all piled into the limo for the last time, you found yourself limping, the strappy shoe you’d worn digging into your toes. You sighed and leant against the limo so you could pull them off. Logan stood by the open door.
‘You alright?’ he asked.
‘No,’ you complained.
‘Soon be home,’ he smiled. You folded yourself into the car, he closed the door and off you went.
When you saw him at the coffee shop a few days later, he asked after your feet.
‘They’re okay, got a few blisters.’
‘Didn’t seem like you were having much fun,’ Logan said.
You picked at the pastry on the plate in front of you.
‘Not really,’ you shrugged, ‘can’t say the thought of people getting married is exactly top of my list of fun things.’
He sipped on his coffee.
‘What happened?’
‘With what?’
‘Your wedding,’ Logan said, ‘seemed like you were all excited about it.’
You let out a small laugh.
‘I was. Until I found out he’d been cheating on me.’
‘Ah.’
‘Yup. And from what I could see neither of them had any plans to stop once we’d gotten married so….’
Logan looked over at you.
‘Want me to go kick his ass?’ he asked with a grin.
You laughed.
‘Please! Although, she did almost immediately leave him and move away, and no one in his family is talking to him so I think he is getting his ass kicked. At least metaphorically.’
Logan smiled then looked serious.
‘Sorry that happened to you.’
‘Me too,’ you smiled sadly, ‘but y’know, lucky escape I guess.’
Logan stood up, putting his unread paper back in his pocket.
‘Silver linings, huh?’
‘Yeah.’
***
By the time the wedding rolled around, you and Logan were, you supposed, friends. He’d been hired to pick up some of the guests, yourself included. You found yourself sitting up front with him, due to there being no space in the back. You didn’t realise quite how far away he was from the action, so to speak, and so you could actually carry on a nice conversation. Both of you chatted pleasantly as he drove you all to the church. He was to wait until after the ceremony then drive you to the reception. After that, you discovered, he was done.
‘You’re not taking us home?’ you asked.
‘Everyone will want to leave at different times,’ he shrugged and glanced over at you, ‘If you want a ride when you’re ready to come home, though, you can give me a call. On the house.’
You looked at him.
‘Seriously?’
‘Why not?’
‘Thanks, but I’d want to pay you.’
‘Up to you, sweetheart, but I don’t want your money.’
He smiled at you. He didn’t. At all. He really was happy to give you a ride home, for free, out of the goodness of his heart.
‘You’re a good man, Logan,’ you said.
‘Don’t know about that,’ he muttered.
Logan gave you his number and you said you’d call if you needed him. He gave you a nod and drove off. You watched as the limo disappeared down the street before going inside.
***
By about 9pm you were done. You hadn’t felt like drinking so beyond a few sips of champagne to toast the happy couple you’d stuck to soda. You’d drunk so much you just felt full of fizz. You were also starving, the food being pretty poor for what you knew the bride and groom were paying per head. You pulled your phone out of your purse and looked at Logan’s number. Before you had time to properly think, you hit the screen. The phone rang a couple of times before you heard Logan’s gruff voice.
‘Had enough?’ he said. You were about to ask how he knew it was you but of course he did.
‘Yeah,’ you replied, ‘I think I need to get home and get out of these clothes....I mean...’
You heard Logan chuckle.
‘I know what you meant, sweetheart. Be there in about 10 minutes.’
You stood outside, peering up and down the road trying to spot the limo. When you saw it turning the corner and approaching the venue, you instantly felt lighter. Logan stopped and got out of the car. You liked having the door opened for you, so few men did that nowadays. It’s his job, idiot, you told yourself. As you settled yourself in the passenger seat, Logan pointed to the cupholders.
‘That’s for you. A donut too if you want it.’
You picked up the cup and opened the lid. The smell of hot chocolate and cream drifted up from it. You were about to take a sip when you stopped, replaced the top and put it back. Logan watched you.
‘I haven’t put anything in it,’ he said.
‘I know...’
Logan sighed and picked up the cup, removed the lid and took a sip of the drink, the cream leaving him with a white moustache over his real one.
‘See?’
You laughed.
‘You can hardly blame a girl for being cautious,’ you said.
‘No I don’t,’ he said, seriously, ‘I’m sorry you have to be.’
You smiled and took the cup. The hot chocolate was very nice. Throwing caution to the wind, you reached into the bag and pulled out a donut, pink glazed with sprinkles. Logan took the other. You tapped your donut against his and said ‘cheers’ which made him laugh.
You ate the donuts then Logan set off. You wrapped your hands around the hot chocolate, warming them a little.
‘Cold?’
‘Just my hands.’
Logan reached over and turned on the heater. You suddenly felt very warm and realised that he’d turned on the heated seat as well. You wiggled a little.
‘Like that?’ he grinned.
‘Hell yeah. The heater in my car barely works, let alone having heated seats.’
You both stopped talking when you heard a noise. Logan chuckled.
‘Was that your stomach?’
‘Yes…’ you blushed, ‘I think the donut woke it up.’
Logan grinned again and pulled up to the first drive thru he came too. He expertly manoeuvred the limo through the tight spaces. You leaned across him to give your order and after collecting it, which he did at least let you pay for, he pulled into a parking lot so you could both eat.
The burger and fries were the best thing you’d ever tasted after the subpar wedding food. It made you giggle a little to see Logan, so gruff and all hard edges, sipping on a strawberry milkshake (‘I like ‘em,’ he’d shrugged).
‘Do you do that thing where you dip your fries in the milkshake?’ You asked.
Logan gave you a look that indicated that no he didn’t and what the fuck? You laughed.
‘This is so good,’ you sighed leaning back against the seat a little, ‘should have done this instead of go to the wedding.’
Logan glanced at you.
‘Why did you go?’ He asked, popping a French fry in his mouth.
You shrugged.
‘I’m not really against weddings even after everything,’ you said.
‘Pretty ballsy thing to do if you ask me,’ Logan mused.
‘You think?’
He nodded.
‘Yeah.’
You didn’t think you’d ever been called ballsy in your life and you quite like it. You smiled and took another bite of your burger. As you chewed, you glanced at the dashboard.
‘Damn, is that the time?’
Logan looked over.
‘Yeah, getting pretty late. Should probably get you home. Should get home myself.’
‘Sorry for keeping you.’
‘You haven’t,’ he smiled, ‘it’s just I look after my...dad and his nurse will start bitching about me if I’m too late.’
You thought that had been about the only truly personal thing Logan had ever told you, considering all he knew about your life.
‘Well,’ you said, scoffing down the rest of the burger, ‘homewards, please.’
Logan smiled and looked at you. Then he did something you weren’t expecting. He reached over and with his thumb wiped away a dribble of ketchup that had dropped onto your chin. You felt a small shudder go through you. Logan stared at you then popped his thumb in his mouth and sucked the ketchup off it. You swallowed hard.
‘Home,’ he said, quietly.