“Derek, where the hell are my keys?” he barked.
“How the hell would I know?” Derek returned, taking a bite of taco. “Where did you put them?”
“Jesus, I forget.” Raking a hand through his hair, he started for the kitchen. “On the island, I think.”
A few seconds later, he was back, rushing into the living room. “I think I might have put them on the coffee table,” he called over his shoulder.
Derek and Claire shared a smile. It was vastly entertaining to see Logan so undone when he was almost always in total control of everything in his world. He’d certainly never forgotten where he put his keys before.
He rushed out of the living room, still empty-handed except for her overnight bag. “Goddamn it, I can’t find the bastards.”
As he paced by them again, a musical jingle could be heard coming from one of his pockets.
“Ah, Loge?” There was a huge grin in Derek’s voice.
Logan spun on his heel, turning to face his friend. “What the hell do you want? Can’t you see I’m looking for my keys?”
Derek cleared his throat. “I know. What’s that noise coming from your pocket?”
A look of dawning understanding washed over Logan’s face. He reached into his right pocket and extracted the elusive key ring. “Damn. I feel like such an ass.”
“Probably because you are one,” Derek offered with a cheeky grin.
“Go to hell, Shaw,” Logan growled, taking Claire’s arm.
“Probably will someday,” Derek acknowledged, sounding grim. “But not yet.”
“I’d love to stay and bicker with my jackass of a best friend, but you and I have a baby on the way.” Logan tugged Claire to the door. “Can you make it out to the car, sweetheart?”
“Yes, Logan.” She dutifully trailed in his wake.
“Good luck,” Derek called around a mouthful of taco. “Call me and keep me posted. I’d like to know as soon as I’m an uncle.”
“That can be Logan’s job,” Claire returned, looking back at him over her shoulder. “I’ll probably be busy at that point.”
“I understand.” Derek cocked his head. “Would it be too much to ask that if it’s a boy you name him after me? I’ve always liked the idea of a little Derek Junior running around somewhere.”
“Derek Junior,” Logan growled. “Go eat your goddamn taco.”
The door closed on the sound of Derek’s laughter.
“Push.”
Oh God, if she had to push one more time. In fact, if she even had to hear the word ever again in her life, Claire would have to scream.
“Aarrggh.”
She settled for a terrible-sounding groan of pain instead. After twelve hours of labor, she made up her mind that this would be the final push if it was the last thing she did. She hadn’t had a wink of sleep all night and all she wanted to do was meet her baby and then roll over and go to sleep. Although, given the way she was currently feeling, she wouldn’t even be moving any time soon, let alone rolling. Yes, this would have to be the last push.
Logan leaned down, brushing away a hank of hair that had been plastered to her forehead by sweat. “Just a little bit more, sweetheart.”
He looked like hell warmed over, she thought as she prepared to push one final time. Of course, she was certain that as bad as he looked, she must look at least a billion times worse. Giving birth, she had discovered, was not an attractive process. She was sweating like a pig, her eyes were probably bloodshot and her legs were like the Christmas goose.
“Now,” ordered her doctor.
Putting every ounce of energy she had remaining into it, Claire pushed. And suddenly, just like that, as though she hadn’t been struggling in vain for twelve hours, her baby arrived into the world.
“Congratulations,” the doctor called. “It’s a girl.”
“It’s a girl.” Logan beamed with fatherly pride, squeezing her hand so hard she winced. In fairness though, she’d been doing her fair share of that for the past twelve hours and he would probably have the bruises to show for it later on. “We have a daughter.”
As if to second that pronouncement, their daughter offered a hearty cry.
“Oh.” It was all Claire could manage to say. She hadn’t had much use for words in the past few hours. Her throat constricted, clogged by emotions so incredible, so powerful. Tears swam in her eyes, running down her cheeks.
Logan kissed her, a quick, hard meeting of mouths. “I’m going to see her now, sweetheart.”
“Okay,” she managed.
He disappeared from her range of vision for a few moments.
“Ten fingers,” he called from somewhere. “And ten toes. She’s beautiful. She has a head full of downy blonde hair.”
Then she heard a faint “oh no” issued from the same direction, followed by a loud thump. She struggled to sit up. “What’s the matter?” she asked, her heart lodging somewhere in the vicinity of her tonsils. “Is the baby all right?”
“She’s fine,” her doctor assured her, the crinkling of her eyes above the green surgical mask signaling that she was smiling. “But I’m afraid that Daddy has passed out.”
Claire was dimly aware of a low rumbling somewhere around the periphery of her subconscious. It sounded familiar, comforting somehow, even though she couldn’t quite discern what it was. She was so tired, bone-tired. She’d never been more tired in her life, in fact. Her eyelids felt as if they had been glued shut with Krazy Glue. As she became more aware of her surroundings, her memory reasserted itself.
Ah yes, the reason for her utter exhaustion.
She remembered endless hours of labor, excruciatingly painful before the epidural, not quite as bad afterward but still heinous. She remembered the first cry of her baby as she came into the world, the doctor’s pronouncement that she had a daughter, Logan counting fingers and toes, then passing out.
Wait a second. Passing out?
She peeled her eyes open, searching the room, relieved to find Logan seated in a chair at her bedside, holding a bundle wrapped in a pink and blue blanket in his arms. He didn’t realize she was awake, so she took the liberty of watching him with their daughter for a few moments. He was making silly little noises at the baby that she found hard to believe were actually coming from his lips, touching the oh-so-tiny hand that had risen from the blanket. She’d never seen his face so filled with naked love and wonder before. He looked, in short, like a man who had fallen completely and hopelessly in love.
He also looked as though he had recovered quite nicely from his earlier scrape, thank God.
“How’s she doing?” Claire asked, her voice coming out scratchy and hoarse.
Logan started, his gaze flying to her. “She’s wonderful. Perfect. A little angel. How are you, sweetheart?”
“I’m sore.” She shifted uncomfortably. “And tired. But other than that, I’m happy. Relieved that it’s finally over and she’s here with us.” She paused. “How are you feeling? The last I heard before I fell asleep was that they were afraid you had a concussion.”
The look he gave her was embarrassed. “No concussion, just a goose egg and bruised pride. I don’t know what came over me. I think it was that I hadn’t had anything to eat and I hadn’t slept. All I know is that one minute I was looking down at our daughter about to cut her cord and the next there was a nurse hovering over me holding up three fingers, demanding to know how many I saw.”
She laughed, then pressed a hand to her suddenly deflated abdomen. “That hurts.”
“Well,” Logan said expectantly, “do you want to hold our daughter?”
“Of course I do.” She’d been so exhausted earlier that she must have fallen asleep before she could even hold her daughter for the first time. But she didn’t mind. It seemed somehow more appropriate that Logan should be the one handing her their daughter for the first time.
“I present to you Baby Thumper.”
As though she were made of glass, Logan carefully laid their daughter
into Claire’s waiting arms. As Claire looked down into the pink face and the wide blue eyes blinking up at her, an intense wave of love washed over her. She was sure she looked exactly like Logan had just moments before.
“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” She ran a finger along the baby’s cheek. “You’re right, she’s absolutely perfect.”
“Just like her mother.”
She looked up with surprise to find Logan staring at her intently. “Logan, I…” The words she wanted to say failed to find their way to her lips. She wanted to tell him how much he meant to her, how happy she was to have him by her side with their daughter in her arms. How completed she felt.
But instead, she looked back down at the baby in her arms. “What do you think we should name her?” She pulled the blanket aside to examine her daughter’s miniature hands and her feet. “She’s so small,” she murmured, almost to herself. Claire’s index finger was longer than the baby’s entire hand. It seemed almost surreal to finally have her in her arms.
Logan leaned closer, offering his finger for the baby to curl hers around. “Do you remember when we were in Maryland at that little café and we were talking about what we would name the baby if she turned out to be a girl?”
Of course she remembered every second of their time together in Maryland. It had been the best week of her life. The part that came after it, on the other hand, not so much.
“We decided on Julie,” Claire said, looking back down at their daughter. She looked like she could be a Julie, Claire decided.
“What do you think?”
“I still like it.” She looked back at Logan to find him still watching her with that disturbingly intent expression.
“So do I.” He paused. “What about a middle name?”
“My niece who passed away,” Claire said after a moment. “Her name was Elizabeth. I would like it if we could name Julie after her.”
“Julie Elizabeth Monroe.” He smiled. “I like the sound of that.”
He wanted their daughter to have his last name. It was something they hadn’t discussed in all the months leading up to this moment. The idea of Julie being a Monroe appealed to Claire. She was almost too afraid to hope there was as much significance to it as her labor-addled mind placed on it.
“It does have a nice ring to it,” she agreed, unable to keep her gaze from their daughter for too long. The newly christened Julie blinked up at her. “Not quite as nice as Derek Junior, but I suppose it’ll have to do.”
Logan laughed, the sound low, husky and pleasing to Claire’s ears. She liked this intimate setting, just the three of them. It was so easy to pretend that they were a normal family. That Logan loved her and she loved him. Although she was beginning to realize that she didn’t have to pretend to love him. She already did.
Oh God.
When had it happened? She couldn’t really decide. Maybe it had been happening gradually, in little increments. Or maybe it had happened in the moment he walked into her hotel room in New York City. Or maybe it had been the first time she’d seen tears in his eyes, when he had thanked her for carrying their child. She didn’t really know when The Moment had happened, when she had fallen hopelessly, inextricably in love with Logan. But she did know that she realized it for the first time right there in the hospital room, with their baby in her arms and him by her side.
“I called your mother, your sister and Derek earlier,” Logan said, breaking up her thoughts. “I’m sure they’ll all descend on us as soon as visiting hours start.”
“Mmm,” Claire murmured noncommittally. She was hesitant to have someone else intrude on them. Having Logan and Julie all to herself felt nice. “What time is it, anyway?” She felt as if she had been in the hospital for weeks instead of hours, so completely had she lost track of the outside world.
Logan flicked a glance at his watch. “Seven thirty.”
She noticed again how tired he looked. “Have you slept at all, Logan?”
He gave her a half smile. “No, but it wasn’t very highly recommended after my incident.”
It was Claire’s turn to laugh before wincing in pain. “How is your head feeling?”
He shrugged. “It’s fine. You’d think I’d be having a killer migraine, but unless I touch the bump on the back of my head, not a thing.”
The telephone on the bedside table began ringing shrilly and Logan picked it up. Julie began to cry, so Claire cradled her closer and murmured in her ear. Logan’s telephone conversation came floating over to her and she found herself listening.
“Yes, they’re both fine. Yes, she’s awake. Just a second.”
He handed her the telephone, making a face. “It’s your mother.”
Claire passed Julie to Logan before saying hello. Her mother’s voice wasn’t exactly the most welcome of sounds echoing in her ear.
“Claire. How are you doing, honey? How’s the baby? Did you name her yet?” A pause for a breath, then another onslaught of uninterrupted questions. “When can we come in to visit you? How was the labor?”
By the time her mother was finished, Claire couldn’t recall all the questions, so she settled for answering the obvious. “The baby’s name is Julie Elizabeth Monroe, and we’re both doing fine. We were just getting to know each other when you called.”
“Monroe?” Her mother’s voice sounded a bit deflated. “Why can’t she have your last name?”
“Mom,” Claire chastised, not really wanting to get into it with Logan standing right next to her. He was already sensitive enough about his background without her mother butting into the matter. Besides, she wanted their daughter to be a Monroe.
“I was just wondering,” Anne said, sounding defensive. “Anyway, when do you think we can come to see her? And you, of course. I can’t wait.”
Claire, on the other hand, could, but saying so wasn’t really an option. She thought for a moment. “Whenever you want, Mom. I think visiting hours start at eight.”
She and her mother talked for a few more minutes before hanging up, Anne promising to arrive in about an hour. Claire waited until Logan had hung up the telephone before informing him of the impending doom. He didn’t complain. He merely nodded, peering down into Julie’s face.
“I guess you want her back now,” he said, offering her to Claire.
Claire accepted the baby with a smile. “Just tell me if I’m being greedy.” She paused. “But I have to get in some time before my mother shows up. I don’t really want to share her with anyone yet. Is that terrible of me?” She had a feeling it was.
A smile curved Logan’s mouth. “It’s natural, I think.”
His fingers brushed lightly across the rounded curve of Julie’s head. The silky strands of blonde hair stood on end in little spiky tufts.
“I think we should get married,” he said abruptly. His tone was as matter-of-fact as it would be if he were saying something like “it’s cloudy outside” for all the lack of inflection and emotion in his voice.
Claire stared. That was it? Just like that, not even a proper proposal? No hint of romance, no illusions of love?
“Why?” she asked at last when her stunned tongue finally resumed commission.
He returned her gaze, his direct, frank. “I think that should be self-explanatory.”
“It’s not,” she said, a hard edge to her voice. “Why don’t you humor me and explain?”
“To give Julie a stable life.” He raised a brow. “You and I are compatible, I think, and we would make a good partnership. We could give Julie a far better life together than apart.”
Had he really just used words like compatible and partnership in his makeshift proposal? Of course he had. As always and yet again, he had reduced something meaningful into a bloodless business deal.
“I’m hoping for something better than compatibility in a marriage.” Her voice was cool.
As if sensing her mother’s sudden agitation, Julie began to cry. Claire rocked her as best she could and patted her little bottom.
> “I see,” he said, his tone clipped, his face a shuttered mask, expressionless. “Should I take that as a ‘no’ then?”
Marriage to Logan was actually very appealing to Claire and would be a given if he loved her. But he didn’t love her, and here he was offering marriage as if he were launching an ad campaign. Besides all that, she’d already been involved in a marriage that hadn’t been based on the right motivations and look where that had gotten her. She couldn’t bear the thought of Logan turning to another woman while he was married to her. It would destroy her.
“I don’t see how I could possibly accept,” she said finally. “When two people get married, it should be because they’re in love, not because they feel obligated to do it. Even though you and I get along reasonably well and now have a daughter together, those things wouldn’t be enough to make our marriage a happy one. I won’t put any child in the middle of a relationship that’s doomed to fail.”
Logan’s lips thinned and his jaw was on edge. “I think you’re wrong. It would be selfish to bounce her between your house and mine when we could all live together, under one roof. I know what it feels like to go from home to home and I don’t want that for my daughter.”
“She won’t be in foster care,” Claire pointed out. “That’s much different than dividing time between two parents. How do you think divorced couples with children manage to raise kids?”
“I’m sure they do a fine job of it.” His tone was infused with a familiar stubbornness. “But my point is why should we resort to that when we could easily give her two parents in one home? You and I aren’t a divorced couple.”
“No, but we will be if we get married,” she insisted. Even two people who loved each other ended up divorcing sometimes. How did he think that the two of them could possibly survive when he couldn’t offer her anything more than a tepid proposal that they would make a good partnership?
“Claire.”
“It’s just not a good idea.” She remained firm.
Julie began crying in earnest and Claire felt like joining her. “I think she’s hungry. Can you go get a nurse to help me?” She was still nervous about feeding a baby.
Perfect Persuasion (Love's Second Chance Book 2) Page 24
