Chapter 4

September 20th, 2022, Boston

Logan woke with a jolt, that squeeze Rory had given his hand on that day in New York having come back to him in his sleep. That well-meaning but dramatic squeeze represented how far they'd drifted. It had felt like the final of how they'd given up - on what was something he didn't want to start thinking about. Either way it felt like their intimacy, both the mental and the physical, had forever transformed into something business-like. God, how he hated that.

And while he knew their reasons had been noble - giving the girl a chance for a life of freedom - a life without rumors, shame and disappointments, impossible expectations and also free from his conscious absence that the distance would've created either way.

Logan looked at his phone for time - 5.32 AM, and searched for the switch of the night stand light, it taking some adjustment being in an unfamiliar hotel room at the Westin Boston Seaport District. He didn't feel like he was going to get more sleep - but much like his father, he didn't really sleep much.

He hadn't felt like staying somewhere overly fancy, this was just a regular business hotel. After all, him being here at all had been a constant guilt trip if he should be here at all - he really wasn't feeling like he deserved something fancier. He didn't feel like celebrating.

Logan adjusted himself to sit up, and briefly scrolled through his list of unread e-mails. He was anticipating Rory's e-mail or a call, if she still had his number. Did she? He didn't - having made the conscious choice to have fewer temptations to contact her. And there had been many, both at the highs and lows of his life during the past five and a half years.

Seeing Emma, going by her full name instead of the short 'Em' people seemed to call her because always came to him first when he thought about her, had definitely left him with a bleeding wound, emphasizing the regret so much more sharply, and a thirst for more. But honestly, he didn't know how he was just supposed to show up at Rory's place of work and expect anything else from her than a card to her lawyer or lots of shouting. He could imagine her freaking out at the sight of him, the number of times he'd talked her down from panic attacks between 2014 and 2017, both in person and by phone, could be counted on the fingers of both of his hands. He didn't know if she was doing better or not, he hoped she was, but most certainly he didn't want to be a catalyst for things to take the wrong turn if she had made progress.

The Barker Center - that was Harvard, wasn't it? - Logan pondered, not being quite sure.

Last night he'd gone out with a few friends he knew locally, business connections really, but the kind of people he actually didn't mind catching up with, hence he hadn't had that much time to think about Rory, but throughout the night he'd definitely felt the heaviness of his decision of what to do next.

While he tried to think of the most respectful way to approach Rory, he googled her, but didn't find her name on the Harvard website. The site contained the contact information of all the full-time professors, researchers and administrators, meaning that she either worked for some other organization which just occupied rooms in their building or she had some lower position. Google really didn't give a lot of information on her recent activities, she didn't even seem to be an avid social media user. Either way he hoped she did something that she was happy with. To him it had never been about her proving her worth by getting prizes or hitting the milestones she set for herself, those impossible self-imposed standards she had - he'd just wanted her to be happy.

He knew e-mail was probably the most respectful option, but he was scared she just might not reply at all, maybe not even open his e-mail, pretending like he hadn't contacted her. But he at least wanted her to hear him out.

He also pondered whether Christopher had mentioned seeing him to Rory. Not that he knew which would've been a better option, his stalky approach yesterday certainly wasn't his proudest moment but then again it was not like he had planned it. He'd been in the area and seen the soccer field and recognized it and the uniforms from one of Rory's pictures. It was sheer luck that as he'd looked up whose game it was online, and made a fair guess that this age group must've included Emma.

He was in town because of Rory and Emma, though, having just made himself additional engagements not to feel as desperate if that hope came tumbling down.

Logan tried to imagine whether Rory was involved with someone, and whether that might complicate things even further. Technically some other guy could adopt Emma, maybe someone already had. The only shred of hope he had was wrapped up in Christopher's optimism which was cautiously promising. But in his age - he knew that Rory's relationship status wasn't his business, he was not that disillusioned to dare to hope for them. Besides, some things were more important than that.

He reached out for his laptop and opened up a new e-mail, knowing that approaching this without his usual arrogance Rory had known him for - 'here I am, deal with it', was his best bet. He needed to begin to show her all the ways in which he'd changed.

"Dear Rory," Logan began to type, realizing it sounded kind of lame and old fashioned. But yet he kept going.

"The last thing I want is you to think I have some horrible motive for asking this, I swear I don't. I just want to talk. I'm in Boston this week and I would love to see you and talk," he typed, wondering if not mentioning Emma at all was a mistake. He retracted the period from the end of his last sentence. "...talk about Emma, life…." he added, leaving the thought open-ended. "I'm not out to take her from you or to cause any harm if that's what you're worried about," Logan added, it being the single most painful thread in their discussions when they'd decided this. Rory had already then spoken of her baby like it was her lifeline.

And to give her the freedom to refuse - she had every right - but at the same time make seeing him as easy as possible using a method he sometimes applied to his business, he made sure the default option was the easiest option.

"I'll be on the benches at the corner of Prescott and Harvard from 5 to 5.30 PM today. Meet me, please," Logan said, having done a quick google maps tour simultaneously, looking up that there was seating on the property of the Barker Center.

Before he changed his mind, he forced himself to press send. If she really didn't want to see him, she had that option. He would take her absence as a 'no'.

Knowing it was still a good few hours before the hotel served breakfast, he got up, grabbed a packet of peanuts from the minibar and later headed for the bathroom, deciding to head down to the gym to make good use of his time.

He spent his day working in his hotel room, only really going out for lunch.

Since he'd been early getting to Cambridge he'd driven around the block once he got to Harvard that evening, looking through employee parking, wondering what Rory drove. Maybe she took the subway? He realized that while he knew of Emma's soccer team, having read about it during his lunch that day, he didn't really know much about where she went to school. He just knew that the girl liked math. The craving to know more seemed to be growing.

He found a good parking spot and chose a vacant park bench, where he took a seat and waited. He hadn't quite expected the wait to turn into that nerve wrecking though. He certainly looked a little out of place in his gray wool-coat, appearing more bussiness-like than collegiate, most people around her being half his age and embracing a fashion of puffer jackets and wide-legged jeans that looked too big for them.

An occasional leaf fell down the nearby maple tree. A couple of passing students discussing Oedipus' role in modern politics made Logan chuckle briefly making him think about his own college days. His college memories, however, were irreversibly connected with Rory and in that sense he was glad he was meeting her here. This place suited her, even if it wasn't Yale.

It was 5.08 now.

A busful of college students passed, looking like they'd been at Harvard for a tour. Someone passed him while walking her Jack Russel terrier, the dog taking a curious sniff of his shoes, before getting yanked off of him. He hadn't minded though - if anything all these things made the time pass a little faster.

He checked his e-mails and felt relieved there wasn't anything urgent. There were a few texts from Finn, one of which he replied to quickly - nothing overly important just asking about his weekend plans.

It was 5.12 now - what if she hadn't checked her e-mail?

He watched some inexperienced driver parallel park their car for about 5 minutes, starting over from scratch a number of times. It would've been kind of amusing really had it not been for the nagging feeling in his gut that she might now show.

Behind him some guy was cursing as he struggled with his bicycle lock, causing Logan to glance behind him. As he did the took a longer look around, for a moment considering perhaps he'd overlooked some obscurity of the location but this seemed indeed the only spot with benches on this street corner. He looked left, seeing a couple of older professors discuss something as they made their way towards their vehicles, one of them driving a old classic Volvo. On his right a bus passed, in front of him nothing beyond two doves walking on grass was going on.

It was 5.28 now. She was certainly cutting it close. Maybe this was just stupid. He was the one who'd signed the papers - they'd signed the papers just for this purpose so he wouldn't get any ideas and start showing up like this.

Logan ran his hand across his face, rubbing his forehead to relieve some of the stress that was building.

He wasn't a religious man but whatever entity it was that would hear his wishes he did find himself praying internally - "Come on… Please, Rory…".

Logan took a deep breath, preparing to pick up his pieces and go drown his sorrows in the contents of his minibar. A final glance at his phone said 5.30. He stood and turned, his impression ten shades duller than it had been half an hour ago. This was it.

But as he reached the street, a few feet from where he'd been sitting, and turned towards his rental car - he saw her. They both came to an automatic halt, taking in the sight of the other in front of them.

AN: Okay, so not a lot happened - but I kind of wanted to let you experience the nervousness he lived with for that day. Not a lot of answers in this either... but we'll get there.