When Meadow looked at Logan, he read the question in her eyes and shook his head. “I didn’t tell him about your parents. I think he should hear that from you.”
Her stomach clenched. She knew he was right, but she dreaded another painful rehashing of the worst night of her life.
When Aunt Rosalie arrived, Logan went down to the lobby to get her. When they returned, she beelined for Meadow and gave her a fierce hug.
“You’ve been on my heart. We’ll talk soon,” she whispered before releasing her and hugging her brother, teasing him about his nonexistent gut. As a park ranger, Harris prided himself on staying fit. He exercised regularly and was an avid outdoorsman and hiker. He was in better shape than most men half his age.
Rosalie swept an awed look around the penthouse. “Wow. I need a tour. Pronto.”
While Meadow showed her aunt and father around, Logan ordered dinner from an Indian restaurant. When the food came, they sat at the sleek glass dining table and dug into steaming portions of butter chicken, tandoori chicken, rogan josh and biryani.
Meadow hadn’t eaten much since yesterday, but her appetite was slowly returning. When she swallowed her first forkful and went for more, Logan gave her an encouraging smile. She smiled back shyly. God, he was so good to her.
Halfway through dinner, her father looked around the table and cleared his throat. “There’s something I’d like to share with you all.”
An expectant hush fell over the table.
Harris smiled a little nervously. “I just wanted you to know that, uh, Trish and I are…seeing each other.”
Meadow and Rosalie squealed with joy.
Logan broke into a huge grin. “Hey, that’s great news.”
“Amen! Hallelujah!” Rosalie rejoiced, dancing in her seat. “And who says God doesn’t answer prayers? Thank you, Lord!”
Everyone laughed. Even Meadow. It felt good to laugh again, like glimpsing the sun through dark storm clouds.
Her father’s expression sobered as he looked around at everyone. “Now, obviously, Trish and Wendi were good friends. So things are a bit complicated. But we enjoy each other’s company and we want to be together. So we’re taking things slow.”
Delighted smiles went around the table. Rosalie got up and hugged her brother so hard that he dramatically pretended he was choking, which set off a wave of warm laughter.
After dinner they carried their wineglasses into the living room. The evening temperature had dropped, so Logan built a fire in the two-sided fireplace. It helped ward off the chill seeping back into Meadow’s bones.
With her father and aunt sitting on either side of her, she told them about the devastating night her parents died. They were as shocked and horrified as she’d expected. They hugged her tightly from either side, sharing her tears, comforting her with words that were a healing balm to her wounded soul.
Her parents had been taken from her tragically and senselessly, and there was nothing she could do to bring them back. With the love and support of Logan, her father and her aunt, maybe someday she’d find the strength to overcome her unspeakable loss and finally be at peace.
The rebels lost game five in another overtime nail-biter.
During the postgame interviews, Hunter faced reporters with Zen calm and deflected barbed questions about Logan’s absence hurting the team. Instead of throwing Logan under the bus, the captain promised that his team would regroup, return to Winnipeg and take care of business in game six.
Logan brooded most of the next day, and Meadow gave him his space.
Later that night, she was in the home theater watching Hidden Figures when he came walking through the door with his laptop under his arm.
She stared at him uncertainly. “Hey.”
He plopped down beside her and brushed his lips over hers, a soft butterfly kiss that soothed her frayed nerves. “Hey,” he murmured.
She gazed at him in the semidark theater. “Are you okay?”
He nodded. “You?”
Her throat tightened. “One day at a time.”
He stroked her cheek. “Take all the time you need.”
She nodded and swallowed. “Are you packed and ready for tomorrow?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Guess what just showed up in my email?”
“What?”
“Our DNA results.”
“Really? That was fast.”
“It only takes a few weeks.”
Meadow picked up the remote and paused the movie, then sat up in the theater-style leather recliner. Logan made no move to open his laptop.
“Well?” she said expectantly. “What’re you waiting for? Let’s see what your report says, then we can look at mine.”
He tapped his finger on the laptop lid. “Let’s make a bet first.”
She frowned at him. “A bet?”
He nodded. “If I have ninety-five percent or less European DNA, you agree to move in with me.”
“Um…” She hesitated, chewing on her bottom lip.
A slow, knowing grin spread across his face. “Why do you look so worried? Aren’t you the one who confidently predicted that I’m 99.5 percent European?”
She grinned. “I still think that.”
“Then make the bet.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “How do I know you didn’t already look at your results?”
“I didn’t, I swear. I wanted us to unveil them together, make it all dramatic and shit. The email message is still marked unread.”
She swallowed and plucked at her leggings.
He grinned, watching her. “So do we have a deal?”
After another hesitation, she nodded.
Grinning harder, he opened his laptop. “Let’s look at your report first.”
“Stalling?” she taunted.
“No, I’m just curious about your results.” He pulled up her email program.
She signed in, found the email from AncestryDNA and eagerly clicked on the report. She and Logan leaned close to peer at the screen, which showed a breakdown of her ethnicity estimate:
* * *
AFRICA — 79%
Nigeria — 37%
Ivory Coast/Ghana — 20%
Cameroon/Congo — 10%
Liberia — 6%
Mali — 6%
* * *
ASIA — 1%
Asia East — 1%
* * *
EUROPE — 20%
Great Britain — 17%
Europe West — 2%
Ireland — 1%
Low Confidence Regions
European Jewish — <1%
Finland/Northwest Russia — <1%
Scandinavia — <1%
* * *
Meadow scanned the results and squealed excitedly. “Oh my gosh! Look how much Nigerian ancestry I have!”
Logan laughed warmly and kissed her temple. “My Nigerian queen.”
She giggled delightedly, beaming at the laptop screen. “This is so fascinating! I wonder which tribe my Nigerian ancestors belonged to? Were they Igbo? Hausa? Yoruba? And what about the ancestors from Ghana? Were they Ashanti?” She clapped her hands together. “I can’t wait to get my results back from African Ancestry. That’s when I’ll find out which tribes I’m from.”
Logan smiled at her. “Cynara speaks fluent Igbo. Maybe she can teach you someday.”
“Oh, that would be wonderful! I’d love to learn a West African language!”
“I’ll tell her. She was just as thrilled as you are when she found out she has some Nigerian ancestry, which is what inspired her to learn more about the country’s different languages and cultures. The two of you could probably talk for hours.”
Meadow beamed. “One of my college sorors is Nigerian. I used to love going home with her and eating jollof rice and fufu with okra soup. She’d always laugh and tell me that I probably had Nigerian ancestry. I can’t wait to tell her she was right.”
Logan chuckled warmly, pointing to the screen. “Are you curious about your European
or Asian ancestry?”
“Of course. But not as curious as I am about my African roots,” she admitted sheepishly. “There’s so much more I want to learn. I’d really love to dig deeper into my genealogy.”
“You should do it,” Logan said encouragingly. “One of the good things about this company is that you can link your results to a family tree and get matched with relatives. I’ll get us both a subscription so we can access their other resources and historical records.”
“That would be wonderful, Logan. Thank you so much.”
He kissed the side of her head, pressing his face into her hair.
As she stared at her DNA report, she was hit by a wave of emotions that clogged her throat. It was bittersweet to receive these ancestry results just days after recovering the memory of her parents’ tragic deaths. They’d given her life. Their genes ran through her blood. So even though they were gone, they would always be a part of her. Always connected.
Comforted by the thought, she blinked back tears and smiled at Logan. “Your turn.”
He pulled up his AncestryDNA email, took a deep breath and opened the report.
Meadow leaned forward, eagerly scouring his ethnicity breakdown:
* * *
EUROPE — 96%
Great Britain — 54%
Europe West — 21%
Ireland/Scotland — 14%
Europe South — 3%
Iberian Peninsula — 2%
Low Confidence Regions
Europe East — 1%
Scandinavia — 1%
Caucasus — <1%
European Jewish — <1%
* * *
AMERICA — 4%
Native American (North, South) — 4%
• Argentina
* * *
“Ninety-six percent European!” Meadow crowed triumphantly. “I win!”
“Damn.” Logan looked crestfallen. “I missed the target by one freaking percent.”
She laughed and playfully poked his arm. “You are so white!”
He scowled. “How do we know these results are legit?”
“Oh, please! You wouldn’t be questioning them if you’d won the bet!”
“I’m just saying,” he argued. “These tests aren’t always accurate.”
“I’m sure they’re accurate enough.” Meadow tapped the screen with a smug grin. “Sorry, sweetie, but you are whitey-white. Just as I predicted. And there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. Honestly, I don’t know why you seem so surprised. Your father is white, your mother was half white, and you already knew that most Argentines are of European descent. But, hey, it looks like you’ve got a little mestizo ancestry from your Argentine side, which is pretty awesome. All of it is awesome,” she reiterated with a smile. “It’s like a blueprint for the uniquely wonderful package that is Logan Francisco Matías Brassard.”
He grunted, still looking somewhat deflated.
“Aww.” She reached up and stroked his jaw, tangling her fingers in his hair. “Don’t worry, boo. I still love you.”
“Not enough to move in with me,” he grumbled darkly.
She bit her lip guiltily. “That’s a really big step, Logan. I don’t know if either of us is ready for that.”
“I am.”
“You think you are.”
“I know I am.” He met her eyes, his voice gruff. “I don’t think you realize how much I love having you here, especially these past few days when you’ve been working from home. It feels right, Jupe. You belong here.”
Her heart squeezed in her chest. Her lungs couldn’t expand when he held her stare like that. “I meant it when I told you that I love being here with you. It does feel right.”
“So what’s the problem?”
She sighed. “Relationships change when people live together. I mean, what if we start getting on each other’s nerves? What if you start getting annoyed by the sight of my hair products on the bathroom counter? What if you start feeling suffocated?”
“I won’t,” he adamantly insisted.
“You don’t know that, Logan. Just as I don’t know how shacking up together would eventually affect me.” Her voice softened. “Look, I’m not saying I’ll never move in with you. It could happen one day. Just not now. I need more time, okay?”
Lowering his gaze to the laptop, he sank into a brooding silence.
She snuggled up against his shoulder. “Don’t be mad.”
“I’m not,” he grumbled.
“You totally are.” She rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. “I’ll give it some more thought. I promise.”
He sighed and then nodded. “Fine.”
She grinned. “Now let’s discuss these findings.”
He kissed the top of her head, then reclined back with the laptop as they analyzed his results some more.
“Your father’s family migrated from Belgium, which could definitely explain why you have a high percentage of DNA from Western Europe,” Meadow mused. “Are you surprised by the fourteen percent for Ireland and Scotland?”
“No,” he grunted. “My dad’s a redhead, so I’m sure he has some Irish or Scottish ancestry.”
“Your father’s a redhead?”
Logan nodded shortly.
“I don’t know what he looks like. I haven’t Googled him yet.” Meadow frowned. “I guess I’m too angry and disgusted with him. I don’t want to put a face to his name, or it might humanize him somehow.” She glanced sideways at Logan. “You really don’t look like him?”
“No,” he grumbled. “Thank God.”
She felt her lips twitch. “Is he handsome?”
Logan gave a hard shrug. “I guess.”
She studied him for a long moment. “Do you think he’ll ever try to contact you again?”
His jaw hardened and he looked away, but not before she saw the flash of fury in his eyes.
A trickle of unease slid down her spine. “Logan?”
He snapped the laptop closed and tossed it onto the seat beside him. “He came to see me in Winnipeg.”
Meadow felt a jolt of surprise. “He did?”
Logan nodded brusquely.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
His jaw clenched tighter. “I didn’t want to talk about it. I wasn’t happy to see him, obviously.”
“What did he want?”
“He invited me to some stupid party he’s having. He wants me to meet my siblings and his wife.”
Meadow searched his face in the semidarkness. “Do you want to go?”
She expected him to say no. A swift, unequivocal hell no.
But he was silent, glaring ahead at the frozen image on the movie screen.
“If you want to go,” she said very softly, “I’d be more than willing to go with you.”
He looked at her, something like gratitude flashing in his eyes before they hardened. “If I go, it won’t be out of some sentimental desire to bond with my father or my siblings. Frankly, I don’t give a shit about meeting those brats, and I’m sure as hell not interested in getting to know the old man. The only reason I’m even considering going is because I want some fucking answers about my mother, and he’s the only one who has them. Or so he claims,” Logan added cynically. “He dangled her like a carrot in front of me, said he could tell me everything I want to know. But what if he just said that to trick me into coming to his party? I mean, he’s Canadian. Hockey’s their religion. What if he just wants to parade me around like his prized thoroughbred? What if he just wants to show me off to his rich friends?”
Meadow eyed him sympathetically. “I wish I could tell you he wouldn’t pull such a shady move. But he hasn’t exactly earned the benefit of the doubt.”
Logan snorted harshly. “No kidding.”
She slid her hand gently into his hair, running her fingers through it and massaging his head, working the tension out of his scalp until he closed his eyes and groaned.
Smiling with satisfaction, she crawled out of her recliner and onto his
lap. He slid his arms around her waist, his eyes slitting open to meet hers as she leaned down and kissed him.
“Whatever you decide to do,” she whispered, her lips brushing his softly with each word, “I’ll be right by your side.”
His arms tightened around her. “And that’s one of the million reasons I’m never letting you go.”
Chapter Forty-One
MEADOW
* * *
“If you weren’t such an incredibly sweet person, Meadow, I would hate your guts,” Priya confessed in her office two days later.
Meadow choked out a laugh. “Um, okay.”
“She’s right,” Cassidy said, sitting in the visitor’s chair next to Priya. “It’s hard not to envy you, Meadow. You’re beautiful, you’ve got a great job with a corner office and you’re dating Logan Brassard. You’re totally living every girl’s dream.”
“Totally,” Priya sighed.
Meadow gave them a rueful smile. “I appreciate your kind words, but believe me, my life is far from perfect.”
“I don’t know,” Cassidy countered dubiously. “It looks pretty darn perfect from where I’m sitting. I mean, last night you were partying with the Rebels after they beat Winnipeg to advance to the conference final. And then this morning, your hockey star boyfriend dropped you off at work, walked you inside and kissed you in front of everyone.”
Priya swooned. “That was so hot!”
“I know!” Cassidy agreed. “Don’t forget the kiss he gave her when she and the other WAGs met the team at the airport last night. I almost passed out when I saw the video of them smooching. That was some serious tongue action!”
As Priya and Cassidy burst into giggles, Meadow chuckled and shook her head.
It was almost quitting time on Friday. In celebration of last night’s big win, Gamenetic employees were sporting Rebels jerseys. Meadow was wearing a customized jersey dress that Logan had bought her. Bearing his last name and number, the figure-hugging dress ended mid-thigh and was paired with spiky ankle boots. She’d been receiving compliments on the outfit all day.
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