by Cat Carmine
But the silence keeps stretching on. And on. And on. It goes on so long that it stops being weird and just starts being funny. Before I can stop it, a giggle escapes my lips.
Logan arches an eyebrow. “What?”
“This is just a bit ridiculous, don’t you think?”
I get a half-smile for that. “It is. A bit.”
“So .... what did you want to talk about?”
“I love you.”
“Say what?” The words stun me. My heart knocks against my chest. I thought he’d at least ease into it, but it seems like the silence was just Logan’s way of readying himself to say what he really needed to say.
“I’m in love with you, Blake. I might have been scared to admit it, but now I don’t care. I thought I knew what love was before, and then I met you, and everything I thought I knew about love, about myself — you turned it all on its head.”
“Logan, I—”
“No, I’m not finished.” He clears his throat. “Sorry, but I have to finish. I thought a lot about what I wanted to say to you on the drive down here. And what I want to say is this: I want to marry you, Blake. Not because you’re having my baby, or because I want to put you in a box I can control, but because I can’t imagine being with anyone else. Because I want to be your husband. I want to be your everything.”
I try to keep it together, but tears are pricking my eyes. How long have I waited to hear this? How long have I dreamed of hearing those words on Logan’s lips? But there’s a part of me that still hangs back. I hate to admit it, but I’m still scared to trust him. To trust this. To trust us.
“Don’t say anything yet,” Logan holds out his hand. “I have something for you.”
“Logan, if it’s a diamond, I told you I don’t want—”
“It’s not a diamond.” He sets the bag on the picnic table and carefully pulls something out. It’s a picture of some kind, gleaming in an aged wood frame. My mind whirs, trying to understand. Even once he hands it over to me, I still don’t understand. There’s a diagram on it, a bunch of numbers ... and a poem.
I blink at him in confusion.
“Remember when you got my mother that star for her birthday?”
“Oh. Yes, of course.” I smile. One of my early triumphs in working for the impossible Mr. Cartwright.
“Well, I thought the gesture was very touching. But I wanted to give you more than a star, Blake, because you’re more than a star to me. You’re my entire universe. They wouldn’t let me buy the whole universe, though, so a galaxy was the best I could do.”
“You got me ... a galaxy?” I blink down at the picture, understanding finally dawning.
“It was the best I could do,” he says again. He watches me expectantly, trying to gauge my reaction.
I laugh.
I can’t help it. A freaking galaxy. I laugh until tears are streaming down my face.
“You think it’s stupid,” Logan says quietly.
“No!” I jump up off the bench and turn to face him. “I don’t think it’s stupid at all.” I look down at the frame again, feeling my heart swell with the kindness of his gesture. “I think it’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”
“Yeah?” His mouth quirks up into a half smile.
“Yeah.” I step between his thighs, until I’m as close to him as I can get without actually touching him. The smell of his cologne — or maybe it’s just the scent of him — nearly knocks me off my feet.
“I love you, Blake,” he says seriously. “You are my whole world.”
“I love you too, Logan.”
I let him take me in his arms, pull me down onto his lap, the frame still clutched against my chest. I let him kiss me. I let him crush my mouth with his. I let him take my breath away. The way I want him to do for the rest of our lives.
His arms around me are strong and powerful, and even in my bloated state, I feel positively petite and completely cared for. I curl my body against him. I was so scared I’d never feel this again. So scared.
I pull away as a sob threatens to choke me. Logan’s eyes are worried. I give him a watery smile.
“I’m sorry. Just overwhelmed.”
I lean against him for a minute, then look again at the frame I’m still holding. I trace my fingers over the gold embossing, the coordinates of the galaxy, somewhere out there, that belongs to me. To us.
For the first time, I read the words printed beneath the diagram.
“Doubt thou the stars are fire;
Doubt that the sun doth move;
Doubt truth to be a liar;
But never doubt I love.”
― William Shakespeare
“It’s perfect,” I whisper. I trace the words with my fingers. It really is perfect.
Logan wraps his arms around me again, pulling me to him. “I still want to marry you,” he says. “But it’s up to you. I’m perfectly happy to live in sin with you. Lots and lots of sin,” he adds with a wink.
I laugh, and then, just as suddenly, stop. I clap my hand over my mouth.
“What?” Logan’s face creases.
I bite my lip. My stomach is flip-flopping in a way that makes me want to throw up. “Before we make any big decisions, there’s something I need to tell you.”
Thirty-One
“Blake, what is it?” Logan runs his hands through his hair. His face is wracked with worry.
I gnaw my bottom lip. I’m so terrified to say it. Not after everything he’s just done, everything he’s just said. Not now that we’re so close.
“I don’t want to go back to New York,” I blurt.
Logan’s face collapses. His shoulders sag. “Oh God, Blake, you scared me. I thought it was something serious.”
“This is serious, Logan. I want to have the baby here. Raise it in Connecticut, near my parents, with—”
He silences me with another kiss. “I know it’s serious,” he says, when he finally pulls away again. “I’m saying it doesn’t matter. We can live wherever you want.”
“Oh.” I clamp my mouth shut, surprised. “But what about your job? Your whole life is there.”
“Not my whole life,” he says. His eyes twinkle. “If you and the baby are here, then here is where I want to be. Besides, my sister’s just an hour away, and I’d love to be able to see the kids more. As for work ...” he shrugs. “Lots of people commute into the city. I can work from home sometimes, and take the train in when I need to. It’ll work, Blake. I promise you.”
“Thank you,” I say, leaning into him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. God, I love you.” I kiss him again, just because I can and because it feels like I’ve been waiting forever for this. For him to be mine.
“Well, if I’d known all I had to do to win you over was move to Connecticut, I’d have done it a long time ago,” he jokes. Then he sees me shivering. “God, Blake, you’re freezing. Come here.”
He wraps me in his arms again and then slips his jacket around my shoulders.
“Thanks. I didn’t realize it had gotten so cold out.” The sun is starting to sink, and the park has turned a magical golden color.
“Let’s go. Do you want to get some dinner?”
“Sure.”
We start walking back to his car, our hands linked. They fit perfectly together. Together.
“What do your parents think about the baby?” Logan asks as we walk.
I sneak a guilty glance at him. “Um. Well, I haven’t exactly told them yet.”
“What?” He stops walking. “Blake, you have to tell them.”
“I know, I know. There just hasn’t been a good time. Mom’s been so busy, and I don’t want to stress out my dad, and...”
Logan just frowns at me. Clearly, he sees through my excuses.
I sigh. “I know. I’ll tell them soon.”
“Why not now?”
“Now? As in ... now?”
He chuckles. “Yes. Now, Blake. We can do it together.”
I stop. “You’d do that for me
?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because there’s a fair chance my dad might go for the shotgun.”
“I’m sure it won’t be that bad.”
I look at him askance. “You weren’t there the night in high school when Rori stayed out all night with Wes. I thought my dad was going to feed him his own fingers.”
Logan’s face goes slightly green, but he forces a smile. “Well, we’re going to have to do it sooner or later, anyway, and the longer we put it off, the worse it’s going to be.”
“Not necessarily,” I point out. “We could just wait until they die.”
“Get in the car,” he says, since we’ve now arrived back in the parking lot. He holds the door open for me, and then closes it gently behind me before climbing into the driver’s seat. “Now, tell me how to get to your house.”
“Your funeral,” I mutter, and off we go.
When we get to my parents’ house, the first thing we see are the two sleek SUVs parked outside. Shit.
“Emma and Rori must have come into town.” I turn to Logan. “It’s okay. We can reschedule.”
“Blake.” Logan pins me with a sort-of glare. “We’re doing this. You’re going to feel so much better when it’s over.”
“I’d feel even better if I didn’t have to do it at all.”
“Come on.”
When I push open the front door, we’re greeted with a blast of warmth and laughter. We follow the noise down the hall to the kitchen, where we find Mom and Dad standing around the island with Rori, Wes, Emma and Tyler. Great. The whole crew is here. Everyone is drinking from wine glasses, except Dad, who’s grimacing over a bottle of what looks like kombucha. Apparently Mom isn’t buying into the thing about red wine being good for your heart.
“Blake!” Rori squeals, when she sees me. Everyone turns in greeting. And then Logan walks in behind me.
The room goes silent.
“Hello everyone,” he says easily. I wish I had half his confidence.
“You remember Logan,” I mumble. “He’s ...” I take a deep breath. Logan squeezes my hand. Somehow the touch conveys some of his confidence over to me. “Last time you met him, I introduced him as my boss. But he’s more than that. He’s ...”
I trail off. I look up at Logan, and he flashes me one of his rare smiles. It lights up his entire face, making him look a hundred times more beautiful than any man has any right to look, really. I squeeze his hand back.
“Well, we’re in love,” I announce. “And we’re having a baby.”
There’s a stunned silence.
“I’m pregnant,” I add, in case there was any confusion.
The silence continues.
“With a baby.” Jesus. If I had a mike, I’d tap it and say is this thing on?
It’s Rori who breaks the silence first. Wonderful Rori. I always knew I liked her best.
“Blake, that’s fabulous!” she gushes, as if she didn’t already know. She rushes around the island and wraps me in a tight hug. With her mouth pressed against my ear, she whispers, “You’re insane. And I’m so proud of you.”
Rori’s proclamation seems to break some of the tension, and then Wes and Tyler are shaking Logan’s hand and Mom is crying and hugging me and hugging Logan and crying some more.
Only Dad hasn’t said anything yet. I sneak a glance over at him and find him shooting a terrifying look at Logan. Even Logan seems to buckle a bit under the scrutiny.
“And what are your intentions with my daughter, young man?” Dad demands. “I hope you plan to marry her.”
Logan straightens. “I’d like to, sir. She turned me down the first time, but I hope she’ll reconsider.”
Dad grunts something. I can’t quite tell what he thinks about this whole thing. Maybe he doesn’t know, either. Hopefully, he just needs a bit of time to get used to the idea.
“Well, this deserves a celebration,” Mom announces. “Logan, you’ll stay for dinner, won’t you?”
“I’d love to.”
“Good. Tom was just going to fire up the barbecue, weren’t you, Tom?”
Dad grunts again, but he sets his bottle down on the counter. He grabs his cardigan sweater and then nods at Logan. “You. You’ll help me outside.”
Logan shoots me a quick glance, but I shrug. He swallows, then nods. “Happy to, sir.”
Hearing him call my Dad sir makes me love him a hundred times more. I know Dad will come around to him eventually.
I think.
I hope.
I watch nervously as they disappear out the back door and onto the patio, and then Mom claps her hands together.
“Okay, ladies. Time to get the sides ready. Wes, will you go out to the garage and get the extra chairs?”
“Sure, Janine.” He grabs Tyler, and they disappear down the hall towards the garage.
Mom starts barking out orders to Rori, Emma, and I. Apparently, we’re going to be having no less than twelve side dishes tonight, including some kind of very complex-sounding rice pilaf. But we know better than to ignore Mom’s orders, so we do as she says and start slicing and dicing.
As we work, Emma sidles up to me. She hasn’t said anything to me since we got here. I force my eyes to stay on the knife as I attack a bright green stalk of celery.
“I’m sorry I was such a bitch to you at the bar that night, when you told us you were pregnant.”
“It’s okay.” It’s not okay, not really. She was kind of a bitch. But that feels like a different life now. And I guess in a way, it is.
“No, it’s not okay. It’s just that ...” My sister takes a deep breath as she leans against the counter beside me. “The thing is, Tyler and I want to start trying as soon as we get married. So I went to a doctor for some tests, just to make sure everything was in good working order, you know?”
I smile a little at that. Typical Emma — always prepared.
She doesn’t smile back. “Well, the doctor said I had something called endometriosis. Basically, I have all this scar tissue, so it’s likely going to be a lot harder for me to get pregnant.”
“Oh, Em, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she says, even though I know it isn’t really. “Tyler says it’s because my uterus is just as much a perfectionist as I am, and it’s determined to only let in the most qualified sperm. Funny, right?”
I smile sadly. “No, not really.”
“No, not really,” she echoes. We’re both quiet for a minute. Then she brightens. “But anyway, we haven’t even started trying, so I’m not going to worry about it yet. Besides, maybe it just means we’re going to have to try even more frequently.”
“Stop.” I hold up a hand. “I love you, Emma, but that is the max I need to hear about your sex life.”
She snickers, but then I notice her discreetly wipe away a tear. I can't remember the last time I saw Emma cry. Probably when I stole her Smurfette bowl, come to think of it. “Anyway, I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry about how I acted. I shouldn’t have let my own issues get in the way of being happy for you. And I am happy for you, Blake. Really, really happy.”
“Thanks, Emma. That means a lot.” And it does. But it no longer seems to mean everything, you know? I don’t need my sisters’ approval. It’s nice to have, but this is my life, and the only person whose opinion matters is mine. And Logan’s.
Emma still looks a bit rattled, so I reach out and give her a hug. She squeezes me tight, and I know that things will be okay between me and my sister.
The kitchen has quieted down significantly. Rori is in the dining room laying out the cutlery, and Mom has disappeared down to the basement. I peer out the window over the sink, trying to see into the dark backyard to where Dad and Logan are.
I cast Emma an anxious glance. “Do you think Dad killed him?”
“No!” she says, though I could swear she doesn’t look totally sure. “Don’t be silly, Blake.”
I go back to nervously chopping celery for the pilaf while Emma st
arts on a green salad. We work in silence until finally, we hear footsteps on the patio outside. The screen door slides open, and Dad and Logan tumble in. Logan’s carrying the platter of burgers, and Dad’s clapping him on the back. They’re both laughing about something. My heart swells six sizes.
“Where’s your mother?” Dad asks, looking around the kitchen.
“She went to get the good china.”
He shakes his head. “She knows I don’t like her climbing that stepladder. I better go make sure she hasn’t broken her neck.”
As soon as he’s gone, I grab Logan’s arm. “You two look like you’re getting along. What did you talk about?”
He shrugs. “Just guy stuff.”
“Logan.” I fix him with a glare.
“Fine. He asked me when I first knew I loved you.”
“Really?” I try to picture my dad having a conversation like that, and I can’t quite do it. “Wait, what did you tell him?”
Logan smiles enigmatically, but when he sees my desperate look, he drops the act. “I told him it was the day you got picked up for shoplifting at Barneys. Watching you argue with that security guard, showing him pictures on your phone as if that proved you were a good person who would never steal, watching you reduce that beefy guy to a bowlful of jelly… I don’t know. I thought anyone with that much gumption had to be special.”
“Aw. That’s so sweet. But we’d only known each other a week then.”
“I know.” He kisses the top of my head. “But he asked when I knew. That’s when I knew. It just took me a bit longer to admit it. Anyway, I guess he liked my answer. He said he’s always worried you’d end up with someone who wouldn’t appreciate your spirit. He likes that I do.”
An unbelievable warmth fills me. “How did I get so lucky?” I pull Logan in for a kiss, but then stop abruptly. “Wait. This means my dad knows I shoplifted. What if he tells Mom—”
“Blake!” My mother’s shrill voice comes from the basement stairwell as she clomps up the stairs. “What is this I hear about you shoplifting? Don’t tell me I raised a common thief!”
