Logan’s expression turned fierce. “I almost lost you, not once, but twice. Can you blame me for wanting to make things more permanent with marriage?” His eyes narrowed. “Unless there’s another reason that’s making you hesitate.”
I threw up my hands in frustration. “If you’re about to bring up Mack again, I’m seriously going to lose it. He’s your friend who just happened to be there for me when I needed it. It’s not my fault he developed feelings for me.”
I wanted to kick myself the moment the words came out of my mouth. I had never told Logan about Mack confessing his feelings for me because there was no reason to. All it would bring was more heartache and problems. Judging by Logan’s thunderous expression, Mack hadn’t told him either.
“When did he tell you this?” Logan demanded. His expression turned grim. “And why are you just now telling me about it?”
“He came over after the fight, to apologize.” I bit my lip. “He then admitted that he had feelings for me. I told him I didn’t reciprocate the feelings. That was it. It wasn’t a big deal.”
Logan’s expression was so hard it looked like it was etched out of granite. “That asshole. I knew I couldn’t trust him.”
I sighed. I had imagined countless times what it would be like for Logan to propose to me, but I had never imagined it being like this.
“Please, I don’t want to argue about Mack. He’s back in L.A. and has nothing to do with our lives.”
Logan looked like he wanted to push the subject, so I was relieved when he just leaned back into the couch, not saying anything else. I took his hand in mine, squeezing it.
“I’m not rejecting your proposal, I promise. Just give me some time. I’m feeling a little off-kilter by everything that’s happened.”
Logan didn’t look happy but he dropped the subject. Despite us not talking about it anymore, tension still hung heavy in the room. We made it an early night and went to bed after Logan took Lola out for a walk. I tried not to feel hurt when Logan didn’t cuddle me, let alone try anything else. I told myself my hesitation had just stung, and he needed time to get over it.
The next morning I woke up to find he had left for work without waking me. I didn’t know if it was out of consideration so I could sleep longer, or if he was still upset about last night.
I tried to go about my day as normally as possible. I spent most of it working on my article, interspersed with playing with Lola. I braved the cold to take her on a walk, reminding myself that this was why I had never gotten a dog.
I still hadn’t heard from Logan by late afternoon, which was unusual. We usually texted or talked on the phone, at least once during the day. I was tempted to text him, but I thought it was
better to let him have his space.
I was relieved when I heard a key in the front door in the early evening. I had been afraid that Logan would work late as an excuse to avoid me. He didn’t look very cheerful when he walked through the door, but at least he was here. Lola bounded up to him and he leaned down to scratch her behind her ears, but didn’t say anything to me.
“Aren’t you supposed to say, Honey, I’m home when you walk through the door?” I joked, but Logan didn’t crack a smile. I sighed, telling myself not to get upset. It wouldn’t help matters.
“It’s been a long day,” he said, as way of an explanation for his morose mood. At least he was talking to me.
“Well, your day is about to get better. I made dinner.”
Logan raised an eyebrow in disbelief and I laughed. “Yes, I cooked. And it’s not a Western omelet. I figured if I can handle Thanksgiving dinner, I can handle a normal weeknight dinner.”
Logan smiled, the first crack in his stoic demeanor since he had walked through the door. “What are we having?”
“I thought I’d continue the Italian theme from last night, so I made lasagna.”
Logan’s eyes lit up, and I was relieved that he seemed to be relaxing into his normal self. I set the table while he changed out of his work clothes, heaping a pile of garlic bread onto a platter and setting it down between our two plates of lasagna.
“I could get used to this,” Logan said with a grin as he sat down at the table. He poured each of us a glass of wine from the bottle I had opened, and then we both dug in.
“You’ve been holding out on me,” he said as he ate with gusto. “You do know how to cook. This is great.”
I shrugged, although I was pleased by his compliment. “I just followed the recipe on the back of the lasagna noodle box. It was pretty simple.”
We had pleasant conversation over dinner, and I was feeling happy and relaxed that things had settled back to normal.
“Do you want to know what’s going on with Kristina’s charges?” he asked gently.
I hadn’t expected the topic change and tensed, but I nodded. As much as I hated to talk about Kristina, it was important to know what was happening with her case. The last thing I needed was for her to be on the loose again.
“She’s pleading insanity to the charge of attempted murder. I don’t know if it’ll actually go to trial because they might work out a plea deal.”