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“Alrighty then,” Gavin said. “I just wanted to be sure.”
“Thank you. If we were standing in each other’s shoes, I’d want to know, too.”
“And my answer would match yours.”
Gavin moved forward as if going in for a hug, had second thoughts and nodded. He ran his hand over his trimmed beard. “We’re getting there, aren’t we? Becoming family?”
“I am.” Logan shrugged. “Can’t speak for you.”
“Think I just spoke for myself.” Without hesitating a second time, Gavin gave him a fast hug, which he followed up with another punch to the shoulder. Stepping backward, he said, “I’ve never had a brother before. Takes some getting used to, but Logan, I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad to know you, and I’m honored to stand for you today.”
And Logan no longer worried that his mother’s absence was a bad omen. He had family here. In his head and in his heart, the “half” distinction disappeared. He had his brother.
“I’m glad, too,” he said, wishing he had other words, better words to express how much this moment meant. “It’s...ah...been good, getting to know you. And thank you for hosting the ceremony and agreeing to be my best man. Makes all of this easier.”
“Welcome.” Turning toward the door, Gavin said, “We’re about ready downstairs, and from what Lola says, Anna is, too. Might want to come down soon.”
“Got it.” Alone again, Logan inhaled a deep, fortifying breath, took one final look at himself in the mirror and followed Gavin’s footsteps. Husband and father. Two titles he’d never really believed would be his. He’d carry one forever, and for a time, he’d carry both.
Yup. Surreal was the word, all right.
* * *
Mrs. Logan Daugherty. Anna Daugherty. Anna Rockwood-Daugherty. Any way she sliced it, she was now Logan’s wife, and the reality of that, along with the current state of her overactive hormones, had whipped her emotions to a crescendo.
Delusional, to believe that she’d find peace tonight, with the wedding behind her and the rest of what was to come looming uncertainly in the future.
Oh, she woke this morning with the same surety she’d carried since accepting Logan’s proposal. Everything about the wedding itself had fallen into perfect order, and since her stomach was barely rounded at the four-and-a-half-month mark, she’d made a presentable enough bride in the simple Empire-style, knee-length dress she’d worn.
But then, out of nowhere, a flurry of doubts had flown into being. She’d left the bedroom that Gavin and Haley had settled her and her aunt in to dress and prepare for the ceremony. She’d gone downstairs, still feeling secure in her decision. It wasn’t until she’d stepped onto the house’s enclosed back porch—the rainy weather had derailed their plan of being wed in the tree-filled backyard—and she’d seen Logan standing there, austere and handsome and sexy in his dark suit and tie, that something deep inside had started to crumble.
Her aunt’s words had sounded off in her head. This was a mistake.
She had come so close—this close—to running away, then and there. How had she believed, even for a moment, that this was a good, smart idea? How had that even happened?
As if sensing her distress, her near bolt for the exit, Logan’s eyes found hers, and he smiled. He held his hands out toward her, and that simply, she regained her balance and her surety. Confidence returned, she walked the few remaining feet toward him and put her hands into his, and with very little fanfare, they exchanged their vows.
Celebration and food followed, and through the festivities, she held on to her belief that marrying this man, the father of her unborn child, was a sound decision.
Her confidence might have continued to hold steady if not for the posing of the photographs. Logan’s wish for their child to believe they were once in love had led them to the decision that there should be a wedding album, with as many of the traditional shots as possible.
So, Logan had wrapped his arms around her. He’d whispered nonsense into her ear to make her smile and laugh. He’d ruffled her hair and kissed her cheek. And in these staged moments, she somehow bought into the charade. Darn if she hadn’t felt loved by him. Cherished and protected and a part of something grander than she’d ever known.
She’d enjoyed those feelings. More so than she would’ve believed. Unfortunately, every one of them vanished the instant they finished with the photographs. Logan reverted to his normal self. He was as kind as ever. Considerate and accommodating and...sweet.
But now that Anna had a flicker of an idea of what being loved by Logan might feel like, she recognized a distance existed, as well. Between them, in every word spoken, every look and, yes, every action. And she hated it. The distance felt...awful. Strategic, in a way. As if he had to force himself to be kind and considerate and accommodating and sweet.
Because she was his responsibility. A burden he had to deal with, so he would.
Unfair, she knew, to draw these conclusions without even broaching her thoughts to Logan. Unfair, as well, because even if she was right, her emotional reaction was not Logan’s fault. He was only following the terms of their agreement. Platonic. Friendly. Partners.
Which was precisely what she wanted from him.
Yet, hours later, she still hadn’t bounced back. The second they’d arrived at Logan’s—no, their—house, she’d done what any crazy and hormonal and hurt-when-she-had-zero-right-to-be-hurt shotgun bride would have: she’d told him she wanted to change clothes, escaped to her bedroom and locked the door. And, pitifully enough, had spent thirty minutes crying her eyes out in as silent a fashion as possible, all the while trying to pull herself out of the muck.
Sitting up on her bed, Anna wiped her eyes and took in a breath. Yes. She was behaving unreasonably. It was time to stop. She had to believe that her hormones were the cause of this ridiculous show of emotion. Of the deep, almost desperate yearning that now ached in her heart.
Well, maybe she couldn’t put the entire blame on her hormones. There was a loss here, as well. A final goodbye, she supposed, to her girlhood dreams of growing up and finding the right man and having a fairy-tale wedding and... Oh. Suddenly, she got it.
She wasn’t wishing for more from Logan or their relationship. She wasn’t going crazy, either. She was simply reacting to the realization, the remembrance, of what she’d once wanted on the day she became someone’s wife, and coming to terms with the true reality of today.
When she added in the hormone-induced warfare raging in her body, her strong emotional response to the photo session made perfect sense. As did the yearning to be loved and cherished by her someday husband. Not by her husband in name only.
The oh-so-logical explanation sifted in and found stability, and relief quickly followed. Good. Now that she understood why she was so upset, she should be able to pull herself together. Her mother used to say that a good cry solved more than it hurt, and Anna had cried long and hard, so really, she should be good to go. She should be ready to face Logan.
Why, she’d just open the bedroom door, walk into the living room, and—
Damn it! Another full-body blast of emotion hit her head-on—likely caused by the bittersweet recollection of her mother—and her tears, which had finally tapered down to mere watery eyes, started anew. They drenched her cheeks and dripped into her mouth. Her throat tightened and her chest heaved. Lovely. Just freaking lovely.
At this rate, she’d be lucky to have herself under control by her due date.
* * *
Logan paced the living room, every now and then glancing toward Anna’s closed door, his gut telling him that something was wrong. She’d been in there for too long, and he didn’t believe she was tired enough to turn in for the night when it was barely seven thirty.
She could be ill. Or upset, in some form or another.
He stopped pacing and ran his fingers through his hair, trying to think. She hadn’t mentioned feeling sick, and their agreement was that she’d keep him informed of her physical well-being. Upset seemed the likeliest possibility, but for the life of him, he couldn’t think of anything that might have caused her distress. The day had gone beautifully, precisely as planned, down to the last detail. Well, except for his mother not being there.
Anna couldn’t be upset by that, could she? No. Made absolutely zero sense, as he’d told her about his grandfather’s illness and she’d reacted with sympathy.
What should he do? Leave her to her own devices or knock on her door and...what? He seriously did not have a clue, but leaving her alone, potentially upset, was not a proactive solution. If they were to make this work—and he had every intention of doing just that—then they had to start off in the proper manner, right from the beginning.
But he couldn’t exactly order her to come out here, now could he? Well, no. Doing so wouldn’t instill trust in him or their partnership. He had to try something, though.
Without having any sort of a feasible plan in mind, Logan went to Anna’s door and raised his fist to knock when he heard... Dear God, was she crying? He pressed his ear against the door to confirm that the sounds emanating from the room were those of a woman sobbing.
And yes, damn it, yes, they were. Logan backed away, fast, and considered his next move. Crying was not a positive sign. Hiding from him while she cried seemed even worse. They were supposed to be in this together. She was supposed to feel safe leaning on him.
Yet she hadn’t uttered a solitary syllable to let him in on her distress.
Raking his fingers through his hair again, he stared at the door as if he could see clean through the wood. Other than the stray emotional moment with his female relatives over the years, Logan did not have that much experience with crying women. He had a sum total of zero experience with crying women who were also pregnant.
And this woman was his wife.
Inhaling a breath, Logan pushed himself forward and rapped on her door. A startled sob-yelp hit his ears, and he cringed. “Anna? Can I come in for a few minutes?”
Silence. The deafening type, and it lasted for close to thirty seconds. When she finally spoke, it was in a louder, higher-pitched voice than typical. “Now r-really isn’t the best time, Logan. Sorry. But, see, I’m—I’m in the m-middle of something.”
Hmm. “Oh, yeah? What’s that? I’m rather handy, you know, so maybe I can help.”
“No! I... That is, you can’t h-help with this,” she said, her tone wobbly and strained. “I—I’ll come out soon and we—we can talk then. Or—or maybe in the morning. Because I seem to be having a br-breakdown of sorts, and I’m not sure how l-long it will last.”
“Anna, please let me in.”
“I’m fine! I—I just need to settle down.”
Logan rested his forehead against her door, grabbed the knob and twisted. Nope. Locked tight. “Now see, this isn’t going to work for me,” he said, keeping his voice relaxed and, hopefully, calming. “Being stuck out here, as I am, while you’re in there, having some type of a breakdown that involves crying. I need you to talk to me, tell me what has you so upset.”
“No, thank you,” she said. “Go away, p-please.”
She was still crying—he could tell that much—but her voice sounded steadier. Good. A step in the right direction. “Not happening, so you may as well let me in.”
“That’s also not h-happening!”
“Guess we’re at an impasse.” Logan sat down in the hallway, right next to Anna’s door. “So what I think I’m going to do is just sit here for a while, until you’re past this little breakdown of yours, and I can see that you’re okay. How’s that sound?”
Again, she didn’t answer right off, but he heard her moving around, and he could almost feel her staring at the door. “You’re just going to sit there and do n-nothing?” she asked, her voice closer than before. “Why would you do that?”
“Because I’m worried about you. Because we’re in this together. Because if you’re upset, that just doesn’t sit well with me. And,” Logan said, speaking the words as they came to him, “how you are and what happens to you matters, Anna. It matters a great deal.”
“Geez, you’re good,” she said after a moment’s pause. “And I kn-know you mean what you just said, but you can stop worrying. This has nothing to do with the baby.”
“Nothing at all?”
“Being p-pregnant supercharges my emotions, but I’m not upset about the baby.” She unlocked and opened the door, looked at him sitting on the floor and shook her head. “You’re a little crazy, too, you know. Sitting out here like—like a sentry or something, over a few t-tears.”
Rising to a stand, he took in her swollen, damp eyes and splotchy pink cheeks, her mussed hair and the way her arms trembled, just a little, as she crossed them over her chest. More than a few tears, he wagered, and he felt horrible for whatever she’d gone through, for whatever had put her in such a state. “Hey there,” he said. “It’s good to see you.”
She blinked once, twice. Breathed in a large gulp of air and blinked again. Those beautiful brown eyes of hers filled with a fresh onslaught of emotion, and she cursed, loudly and eloquently, and started to slam the door shut. Ah. Nope. Not happening.
Acting on impulse, he stuck his foot into the opening—because no way was he going to let her suffer on her own, not when he was there to provide some company—and said, “You don’t have to hide. We’re partners, remember? Lean on me, why don’t you?”
“I don’t want you to see me like this,” she whispered. “I’ll be better tomorrow.”
“I already see you, and why don’t we try to reach that goal tonight?” He had to fight, hard, the sudden need to pull her into his arms. To hold her for however long it took for her body to stop trembling, her tears to stop coming. “You don’t even have to tell me what’s wrong. Let’s just be a boring old married couple and watch TV. Or go for a walk. Or—”
“Or?” she asked.
A mistake, probably, but...to hell with it. “Let me hold you while you cry.”
Indecision darted over her features, but she didn’t say no and she didn’t voice any objections. Logan simply opened his arms and waited. She hesitated, briefly, before stepping into his embrace, and with her cheek pressed against his chest and her arms wrapped around his waist, her tears started coming faster and harder.
And Logan didn’t know if this was the right or wrong decision, holding Anna in such an intimate way, but he didn’t much care, either. She needed him, he was her husband and it was his job—at least for the next seventeen or so months—to take care of her.
After a while, he moved them to the living room, to the sofa, and covered them both with a blanket. Slowly her crying subsided and she stopped shivering, but they stayed as they were. It seemed their bodies had melded into one, they were so entwined with each other, and between that and Anna’s scent—a little spicy, a little sweet—and the soft brush of her hair against his jaw, Logan started questioning every last one of his self-made promises.
Because holding Anna, being surrounded by Anna, being there for Anna, felt more real, more right, more true than any other experience in Logan’s life thus far. All of this could be due to what he’d already considered, that Anna was the mother of his unborn baby and therefore was able to elicit from Logan a mass of unprecedented emotions.
Could be that, and he wasn’t anywhere close to ruling out that possibility.
But maybe he should widen his scope some. Consider if this rightness he felt might mean something a lot more lasting than a temporary, in-name-only marriage. Without, of course, doing anything that could jeopardize what he and Anna had already agreed upon.
Yeah, that could work. He’d just keep his hands on the steering wheel and take it nice and slow, see what his heart told him one day at a time, where it led him once their baby was born, and go from there. There was no cause to rush into a damn thing.
Hell, truth was, he had well over a year to figure this out.
Chapter Four (#ulink_78676465-8582-5220-8d62-1e02fc2e2fd5)
Early the next morning, Anna woke alone on the sofa. It took a minute to orient herself, to remember where she was and why. Had she really sobbed in Logan’s arms and somehow managed to fall asleep while he held her? She closed her eyes and let out a small breath.
Yes. On both accounts.
The memory flooded her cheeks with prickly warmth—what must he think of her?—but strangely, living alongside her embarrassment was a slight sense of comfort. He’d sat in the muck with her, which couldn’t have been easy, and by doing so, proved that they truly were in this together. That he intended to live up to his word and be her partner.
Which meant that despite their unorthodox relationship and wedding night, despite yesterday’s overwhelming doubt and sudden yearning for more, she had made the right decision. It felt good to have that realization, seeing how she couldn’t turn back the clock and change anything that had already occurred. But an explanation of sorts should probably be made.
A glance around the living room showed she was alone. She listened to the sounds of the house and heard nothing. Likely, Logan had separated his body from hers at some point during the night to go to his bedroom to sleep in peace. The assumption gave her another ounce of comfort, because it meant she’d have a bit more time to find the rest of her bearings before facing him again. Maybe he wouldn’t even ask about last night.
Anna sat up slowly, paying close attention to her stomach and waiting for the odd mix of hunger and nausea to hit. In the first few months of her pregnancy, the nausea had won out morning after morning. She’d taken to leaving a few saltine crackers and a bottle of water on her nightstand to subdue both conditions the moment she woke.
For obvious reasons, she hadn’t made those preparations last night, but today, the only grumbling in her stomach seemed due to hunger. She stood carefully in case the motion would signal the return of her usual bout of morning sickness and, when it didn’t, went to the kitchen. She’d find something for breakfast, take a long, rejuvenating shower and fix her hair, her makeup. Certainly by then, she’d feel much more herself and be back on track.
Except when she searched the refrigerator and the cupboards, she found a bag of coffee beans, a box of tea, a few frozen pizzas, various condiments and little else. No bread. No cereal. No milk, even if there had been a box of cereal. What in heaven’s name did this man eat, and why hadn’t she thought to go grocery shopping before moving in?
She wasn’t sure if her frail stomach could handle pizza first thing in the morning but, with little other choice, grabbed one of the boxes and set the oven to preheat. Out of nowhere, a grain of self-confidence emerged and she grinned. It seemed the man who had almost everything under control, and a plan for everything else, hadn’t yet learned how to feed himself properly.
That, at least, fell into her wheelhouse. Her specialty might be desserts, but Anna enjoyed all aspects of cooking, from planning to preparation. Another plus, since she didn’t work again until Monday, she now knew how to occupy a good portion of her first day as a married woman.
A shopping trip was definitely in order, followed by a deep cleaning of the house that was now her home. It wasn’t disgusting, by any means, as there was no clutter to speak of. No dirty dishes in the sink—though, really, how could Logan dirty a dish when he had no food?—and there weren’t socks or underwear or the stray shirt lying around.
But the place was dusty, the kitchen floor needed to be mopped, the windows were...well, spotty was a good word, and she doubted anyone had scrubbed the oven in years.
Walking into the living room, she mentally reorganized the space. It was crowded with the chair and sofa, the television and Logan’s desk, desk chair, file cabinet and printer, but by swapping a few things around, they might be able to make better use of the room.
Logan would have to help her move the furniture, but she figured he wouldn’t object. She’d buy some flowers, maybe, and a few decorative accents, to bring warmth into the house. Some big, fat, colorful pillows for the sofa and perhaps a picture or two to hang on the walls. Yes, with very little work, she could make this house feel more like a home.
There wasn’t any reason not to, and again, she doubted that Logan would object. After all, she’d have to live here for quite a while, and she believed that Logan would want her to feel comfortable, so she might as well do what she could to brighten her surroundings.
The house was small, with only two bedrooms—fortunately, both were decent in size—one bathroom, a cramped living room and the modest kitchen, barely big enough for the appliances and the table. She and Logan would constantly be under each other’s noses. She wondered how long it would take to become accustomed to each other. Hopefully, not too long.
Surely before they brought a baby into the mix. Living in such a tight space would prove tough enough for two people, but Anna wasn’t quite sure how they would manage with a newborn. Babies, as little as they were, required a lot of accessories. And while a bassinet would work fine to start, they’d eventually need to buy a crib. She’d like a rocking chair, and...
With forced effort, she tucked away her worries. The baby wasn’t going to be born tomorrow. They had plenty of time to consider the logistics.
Pleased to have a plan in place, and to feel more in control of her new life, Anna started to return to the kitchen. The front door opened, stopping her forward motion. She turned, and there was Logan, carrying two large carryout bags. And oh Lord, did the sight of him cause a curl of longing in her belly. Hot and sharp and fast.
No, no, no. Couldn’t be longing. Just...surprise.
