“That’s because this is the best bar in New Orleans,” Logan told him, taking his arm and steering him toward the door. “And that’s, in part, because we don’t let guys in who’ve had too many daiquiris on Bourbon. Daiquiris make douchebags.” That was true. The too-fruity drinks that could be purchased in pretty much every establishment on Bourbon Street were for tourists, particularly bachelorette parties and I’m-50 birthday parties and girls’ weekend trips. “Men should not drink daiquiris,” Logan told him, nudging him through the French doors and out onto the sidewalk. “At least, they shouldn’t drink them before coming in here. When you want a real drink, and think you can handle it without turning into a douche, come back and order a Pimm’s Cup or a Sazerac or even just a shot, okay?”
The guy suddenly looked crestfallen. “But we love your bar, man.”
“Then don’t be a dick when you’re inside it,” Logan told him.
“Fuck,” the guy muttered sadly. “Okay.” His friends joined him on the sidewalk.
Logan watched them walk away, fortunately without giving him any more shit. He returned to the bar.
“You know I serve daiquiris at Pete’s, right?” Josh asked as Logan joined him behind the bar.
“Yeah, yeah. So you know better than anyone that they’re stupid tourist drinks that come from a mix, taste like Kool-Aid, and serve only to get people so fucked up they don’t care that the crappy pizza is overpriced.”
Josh gave a low whistle. “What the hell is wrong with you tonight?”
“Nothing.” Which wasn’t even a little bit true. Chloe was performing her solo dance tonight, and the team was competing tomorrow in regionals and had a good shot at nationals. And he was here with these jackasses. He sighed as a guy waved him down from the other end of the bar. “What’s up?” he asked.
“This is the wrong bill,” the guy said.
Logan took it from him and frowned down at it. What the hell? He never got tabs wrong. How the fuck hard was it to keep track of a few beers and a cocktail or two? “Dammit.” He turned to redo the guy’s ticket, and his elbow caught a tray of glasses on the edge of the bar. The entire thing crashed to the floor, the sound of glass breaking against the stone, ear-shattering. But not nearly as loud as Logan’s bellowed, “Son of a bitch, hell, damn, fuck!”
The entire place went quiet and he looked up to find the room staring at him.
“What?” he snapped. “I’m having a bad night.”
Everyone went back to eating and drinking, but the volume of conversation and laughter was definitely muted.
Josh moved in with a broom and dustpan. “Historic moment,” he said, sweeping up the broken glass.
“What?”
“You losing your shit. You’re usually the laid-back, easygoing, fun guy, right?”
“I’m. Having. A. Bad. Night,” Logan said through gritted teeth.
“Why don’t you just go to Baton Rouge?” Josh asked, dumping the glass pieces into the garbage.
“You know about Baton Rouge?”
Josh put a hand on his hip. “You’ve been talking about it for a month.”
“I have?”
“And the butterfly barrettes and the tights and the fucking Taylor Swift song they’re performing to. Dude, if you weren’t my boss, I would have been giving you shit about all of that a long time ago.” Josh shook his head. “Butterfly barrettes and tights, man.”
Logan ran a hand through his hair. “Well…that’s my life now.”
Josh nodded. “Yeah. I know. Except that you’re here and they’re in Baton Rouge.”
“Yeah.”
“You need to go.”
His heart thumped against his ribs. “Dana doesn’t want me there.”
“Bullshit.”
Logan swung to his right. Caleb and James, another of the firefighters from Engine 29, were at the bar.
“Bullshit?” Logan asked.
“Dana wants you there. You’re just a lot of trouble,” Caleb told him.
Logan couldn’t really argue with that. “Yeah. But,” he said, “I could sit up in the back, where no one would see me.”
“You would do that?” Josh asked, clearly disbelieving.
“Sure. I can…stay out of things.”
Josh, Caleb, James, and even the guy at the end of the bar who didn’t really know Logan, all laughed at that.
Logan scowled. “I can. If I have to. But I want to be there.”
“Yeah, well, you should definitely go,” Caleb said. “But then you need to propose to Dana.”
Logan blew out a breath. “Yeah. I’ve already done that. She doesn’t want to get married.”
Josh handed Caleb and James each a beer.
“You’ve already proposed?” Caleb asked.
“Yeah.”
“How did you do it?” Josh asked.
“What do you mean?” Logan asked. “I said, ‘Marry me.’” Actually, most recently, he’d said something like just fucking marry me. He grimaced.
“That’s not a proposal,” James said, lifting his beer.
“The fuck if it’s not,” Logan said. “What do you think a proposal is?”
“A proposal is a big deal,” Caleb said. “It’s not just ‘hey, let’s get hitched since I knocked you up.’”
“Or ‘marry me so I can be a step dad to your daughters and go to all the dance recitals’,” Josh said with an eye roll.
“I didn’t—” But Logan frowned. Okay, he’d basically done that. “Dana’s not big on making things into a production.”
“But you are,” Caleb said, pointing his beer bottle at Logan. “You’re all about big productions.”
“I—”
“For sure,” Josh said right over the top of Logan’s protest. “Everything is a big deal with you.”
He wasn’t sure that was true.
“You need to propose to the woman,” Caleb said. “Like for real. Something big and something fun and something you.”
Just then, his phone pinged with a text. He pulled it from his pocket, hoping like hell it was Dana begging him to come to Baton Rouge.
It was from Amy. These are awesome! The girls love them. Thanks! The text included a photo. Frowning, Logan slid his fingers over the screen to enlarge it. It was a gift bag. Propped next to the CD he’d made was a jar of clear liquid with a bubble wand next to it and…he squinted, then enlarged the photo again. There was something that looked like a balloon with pink stuff inside. The note lying next to everything said, You ROCK! Let everyone see your SPARKLE this weekend, while you BLOW the competition away!
And they were signed, love, Chloe, Grace, Dana, and Logan.
He felt his heart turn over in his chest. Dana had made gifts for the dance team. And she’d included him.
Yeah, he needed to propose to her. Right now. He looked up at the guys. “I need to go to Baton Rouge.”
“You’re going to need glitter.” Owen slid up on the stool next to James. “And body glitter and craft glitter are not the same thing.”
Josh laughed. “He needs glitter to propose?”
“Oh, you’re proposing?” Owen asked.
“What did you think he was doing that you suggested the glitter?” Josh asked.
“Doesn’t really matter,” Owen replied. “Glitter is always a good idea.”
“You’re right,” Logan agreed. “And it turns out, I have a lot of glitter in my life now.”
An hour and forty-eight minutes later, Logan slipped through the door to the balcony in the darkened auditorium where Chloe would be performing. He’d checked the schedule on the door and he hadn’t missed her. He could hardly believe how nervous and excited he was.
He peered over the balcony railing and spotted Dana’s head. She was six rows back, right in the middle. His chest ached looking even at the top of her head. God, he loved her. He wanted her. And now that his friends had convinced him that a big, showy proposal was the way to go, he could hardly wait to lay it on her.
He’d s
topped by the hotel where everyone was staying, flirted his way into Dana’s room, and had done it up right. He’d thought about rose petals and candles, but decided he had to do this right for them. So he had four balloon bouquets that said a variety of things from Thinking of You to Congratulations, a huge stuffed plush crawfish, a jar of Ellie’s sweet tea, and he’d spelled out Marry Me on the bedspread with Rice Krispies treats.
If she said no to all of that…
Well, he’d have to keep trying.
Grace was sitting next to her, her little legs kicking as she watched something on Dana’s phone. He assumed it was Zombie Zuzu, one of her favorite cartoons. The love for her also squeezed his heart. Yeah, Dana had to say yes. He’d do anything. He’d…well, fuck, there wasn’t much he could do that she couldn’t do for herself, but he’d just…love the hell out of her. That he could absolutely handle. She’d come around. Eventually. Probably.
The little girl who was on stage finished her routine and smiled at the judges, then exited the stage. The judges bent over their scorecards, scribbling. Logan took a seat and leaned back, trying to get comfortable.
But he wasn’t comfortable. Not up in the balcony in the shadows. Not when his girls were down there.
He wondered if Chloe was nervous. And if she’d giggled at the addition of Justin Timberlake’s “Can’t Stop This Feeling” to her pump-up song CD. He hadn’t put it on anyone else’s because no one on the team had requested it, but he’d put it on Chloe’s because he’d sung it—and danced to it—for her in the kitchen one night. Then he’d showed her the video that had just regular people dancing in all kinds of places. And it was JT. And Logan rocked that song. Even though everyone was cool when they were singing and dancing to JT. At least, that’s what he’d told her.
And was Grace bored? Sure, she had Zombie Zuzu, but that wasn’t really her favorite. He thought maybe he should get her into old episodes of Scooby Doo. Though the ghosts were never real in that show and she’d probably roll her eyes.
And, of course, he wondered how Dana was. Was she nervous about Chloe too? Was she wondering about him? How did she feel about Scooby Doo? Was she—
“Excuse me, everyone.”
Logan’s head snapped up and he looked to the stage. He’d been lost in thought and hadn’t seen Dana get up and go to the stage. But that was the woman he was in love with, standing center stage, in the spotlight, holding a microphone.
All of which was so out of character, it took him a second to process it.
When he did, he sat forward, his heart thumping hard in his chest. He didn’t know why, but something was up if Dana was calling attention to herself like this.
“Hi,” she said, as the crowd quieted and gave her their attention. “My name is Dana Doucet and my daughter is performing here tonight. And she’ll be out here in just a minute.” She glanced toward the wings and smiled.
Logan assumed Chloe was standing there, waiting to go on.
“But I was hoping you wouldn’t mind if I take just a few minutes of your time first.”
There was a little bit of whispering in response, but no one asked her to get off the stage.
She smiled. “This won’t take long,” she said. “But I have a very important question to ask someone who’s here in the audience tonight.”
Logan felt surprise ripple through him. He leaned in as if to get closer to her.
Dana gripped the microphone with both hands, and Logan knew that she was trembling. She didn’t do spotlights. So this was…big. Whatever it was. But he was starting to feel a bit of anticipation in his gut.
“Logan, I know you’re here,” she said.
That ball of anticipation grew.
“Of course you’re here. That’s where you always are when it comes to us. Your girls.”
The ball of anticipation blossomed into hope and moved up to his chest.
“And I know that it’s probably killing you a little bit to not be down here front and center, or backstage getting everything together. But you’re here anyway. In the back in the shadows. Because you’re not really here as a dance dad tonight. You’re just here as…a dad.”
Her voice was a little wobbly at the end, and Logan felt his throat tighten. And he had to actually blink hard against the sudden stinging in his eyes.
“And that’s exactly how it should be,” Dana went on. “It’s what you’re good at. You do make things fun and light and easy. But you also solve problems. And you make us feel secure. And you make us feel protected. And loved. But there’s something else that you’re really good at—” She paused and swallowed hard. “Something that you’re the best at,” she added quietly. “You see me. You see me in a way no one else does. And when you see me that way—as capable and loving and good and amazing—you make me see it too. And if you never do another dish or another homework project or change a single diaper, you have already done so much for me, you’ve become so important to me, that I can’t imagine not having you in my life. Not because you’re helpful, but because…you love me.” She took a deep breath. “And I love you. I’m in love with you.”
A ripple of noise went through the audience as people reacted.
“So…” She grinned and motioned to the audience.
Well, to Grace.
Logan couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t blink. He couldn’t swallow.
The most beautiful woman in the entire world, a woman who didn’t need him at all, who could handle his life with one hand tied behind her back and blindfolded, had just told him she loved him. On stage, in front of an auditorium of people, with a microphone.
Logan watched, stunned, as Grace ran up the aisle, holding a big white square in her hands, to join her mom on stage. Chloe came out of the wings and she took the other end of the white square and they held it up together
It said Can we have your last name? Please?
In huge, pink, glittery letters.
Logan wasn’t able to blink the tears away this time. He dashed them off his lashes with the back of his hand. Then vaulted out of his seat.
“Yes! Hell yes!” he shouted down.
His girls spotted him in the balcony and they laughed. Grace started bouncing up and down. “Yay! Logan’s my dad now!”
Chloe just shook her head at Grace, but she was grinning.
Dana was crying. But smiling.
He ran down the stairs from the balcony, and by the time he got to the main auditorium, they were coming up the center aisle toward him. They met in the middle. He took Dana’s face in his hands, staring into her eyes. “You proposed to me,” he said in awe.
Her eyes were still watery. “I did. Big and unexpected and fun…just like you.”
“I love you,” he said, running his thumbs over her cheeks. “I love you so damned much.”
She nodded. “Will you marry me?”
“Tomorrow if you’ll let me.” Then he kissed her. Hot and hard but not nearly as deeply as he wanted to because he suddenly had a six-year-old and a ten-year-old wrapped around his legs.
Laughing, he let Dana go, but not without giving her a we’ll-pick-this-up-later look. Then he scooped the girls up in both arms and hugged them tightly.
“Miss Grace Elizabeth Doucet Trahan,” he said, giving her a smacking kiss on her cheek. “And Miss Chloe Diane Doucet Trahan.” He kissed her on the top of her head. “I love you both so much.”
“We can keep all of our names?” Grace asked, her eyes wide.
He nodded and met Dana’s eyes again. “Last names help people know who you belong to right?” he asked. “You definitely need to keep all of those names.”
Dana’s tears fell again with that, but he couldn’t reach for her. His arms were full.
Still, he knew that she knew he’d be reaching for her later on tonight…and he was never going to let her go.
He finally set the girls down. “Hey, Chloe,” he told her. “You need to get on up there and dance, don’t you?” He nodded toward the stage.
She gave him a big grin. “Yes!”
“And I’ll be sitting right down here.” He pointed at the seats on the main floor.
“Okay!” She turned away and started for the steps to the stage.
“And hey!” he called after her.
She turned back.
He gave her a wink and a grin. “Your hair looks amazing.”
One year later
Dana paced back across the nursery floor. “You know, baby girl, this is getting ridiculous.”
But Maisey Trahan wasn’t listening to her mother at all. As usual at three a.m. Every night.
“You’re seven months old,” Dana told her as Maisey continued to fuss. “You’re going to have to either figure out how to sleep through the night, or you’re going to have to tolerate me in here every once in a while.” She patted the baby’s back. “I mean, you like me just fine when you’re hungry, right? And the swing we got you for the yard? Totally my idea. He thought you were too young.” She turned and started back across the floor. “Also, I’m not going to make you dance. He’ll want you to, but if you’d rather play soccer or something, I’m in.” She patted and bounced and paced. “But I’m sorry to say that he will keep on insisting on those headbands and barrettes.” Dana ran her hand over her daughter’s head, smiling at the baby’s relative baldness, even at seven months. The baldness that was making her daddy a little crazy.
But Maisey wasn’t mad about not having a lot of hair. Nor was she mad about future dance classes. She was flat-out mad because it wasn’t Logan in here with her.
“My turn yet?”
Dana turned.
Logan was in the doorway, his shoulder propped against the frame. He wore only pajama bottoms and they sat low on his hips, and Dana felt a stirring of heat even as she held their fussing baby girl.
She sighed. “One of these nights she’s going to let me settle her down.” It was the same every time. They took turns getting up in the middle of the night with the baby, but since she’d been born, Logan was the only one she wanted at that time of night.
He grinned. “Maybe.” He pushed away from the door and stepped into the room. “She likes you just fine at three in the afternoon.”
Taking It Easy: Boys of the Big Easy book two Page 21
