I again stopped talking.
Logan again just stared at me.
So I called, “Logan?”
“My girl,” he whispered, and I felt warmth flow through me at his tone.
“Logan,” I whispered back.
“She wants somethin’, she doesn’t fuck around.”
He was right. I didn’t.
I wanted to graduate early so we could start a family; I did it.
I wanted to contribute, even minimally, to our life financially; I worked my ass off and accomplished that.
I wanted to be a success at my own business, completely renovate a fixer-upper house so it was inch by inch all mine; I did that too.
I wanted to make a statement that Logan was important and I intended to show him that by making time for him; I absolutely did not fuck around.
The only thing I’d wanted that I didn’t get was to make babies with my man. And it hit me right then that finding out I couldn’t when I knocked myself out to make everything so I could was something I couldn’t cope with.
As huge as that was at the time, and how deep it still burned, I realized, in the end, I hadn’t done half bad.
“Come here, beautiful, give your man some love so you can get to work.”
Voiced tender and sweet, that was an order I would obey. So I set my coffee mug aside and moved into his arms.
I wrapped mine around him, rolled up on my toes, and touched my mouth to his.
When I rolled back, we both kept hold.
“Got the girls this weekend,” he told me.
A sliver of cold fear pierced the warmth in me but I ignored it and asked, “Yeah?”
“You got a problem with them stayin’ here?”
I went back to staring.
When he said no more, like taking back that crazy question, I asked, “Here? With me? And you?”
“Here. With me. And you,” he confirmed.
I moved an inch away, still within his arms, and stated, “Low, that’s too much too soon for both of them.”
I meant that.
I also meant for all of us.
Namely me.
“I start the night on the couch, go to you when we know they’re out. They sleep for as long as they can on the weekends. We’ll be up before them. They won’t notice.”
“Low, that’s too much too soon for both of them,” I repeated, then included, “And it isn’t just about the sleeping arrangements.”
“I live in my RV outside Boz’s house,” he declared.
My chin jerked sideways at this insane news. “You do?”
“Since the split, been lookin’ at houses—seems I looked at hundreds of ’em. Wanna move and do it permanent. So it’s gotta be perfect for me and my girls,” he explained.
Oh man.
I had a feeling I knew what he was saying, that he intended to move in with me.
I had more than a feeling that it was way too soon too.
I wanted it to happen. I wanted forever with Logan.
But we had a lot of catching up to do, so I wasn’t sure about that starting now.
“You… I…,” I stammered, not certain what to say.
“Now, havin’ you back, I’m not layin’ down a load of cake on a pad only for us to consolidate. And I’m guessin’, the way you are about your house, you’re not gonna wanna leave it.”
“No,” I said hesitantly, because I didn’t.
But it was mine. All mine. Inch by inch.
And it was a woman’s home.
Inch by inch.
And Logan was very much a man.
“Right,” he said. “So it’s big enough for all of us for a while. We’ll need to add on later. Another bedroom. Dining room ’cause can’t have decent Thanksgivings and birthdays sittin’ at a bar in a kitchen.”
My heart started beating fast and not in a good way at the thought of changing my space after I’d gotten it just how I wanted it.
I mean, I wanted Logan more than anything.
But living in a house under renovation sucked. I knew this all too well.
“Girls share a room,” he went on. “But Deb and me promised ’em, when they got to be teenagers, they’d get their own rooms. So we’ll need another one because I figure you’ll wanna have one for guests.”
“I… well, I think we need to discuss this at a time when I don’t have to get to work,” I evaded.
He nodded. “We can discuss this at a time when you don’t have to work and I don’t have to get on the road. But you meet the girls Friday. We have dinner together Friday. We go sleep at Boz’s Friday night. We spend the day together Saturday and Sunday. They sleep here Saturday and Sunday.”
I miraculously kept the panic out of my voice when I noted, “That’s like throwing them in a pool to learn how to swim.”
“You gonna be in my life?” he asked.
“Of course,” I answered.
“Then you’re gonna be in theirs. They gotta get used to it.”
I moved closer to him and gave him a squeeze. “That’s agreed. But I’m gonna be in your life, Logan, and theirs. So we have time.”
“Babe—”
I interrupted him. “Friday, dinner. Saturday doing something during the day. Saturday night, if you don’t want them to camp out in your RV anymore, I can go stay at Dot’s; you guys can stay here. Sunday, lunch or something. When do they go back to their mom?”
“Take them to school on Monday. They go back to her after school.”
They went to her after school on Monday?
He must get them back sometime during the week.
“Then Sunday night I’ll stay at Dot’s again,” I offered. “Or Justine’s. Or Kellie’s or something.”
“Not puttin’ you out of your own house and, Millie, the point still is they gotta get used to you.”
“Sleepover their third visit,” I haggled.
“Babe, that weekend will be a month away.”
That shocked me.
“A weekend?”
“Deb’s got near full custody,” he shared. “Girls are still young, but shit’s gonna start happenin’ soon with them that they’ll need their mom. Our deal was, two years of this, then we go half and half and nearly a year of that is done.”
“You only have weekends,” I stated, but it was a question.
“Every other weekend.”
He only had every other weekend?
Did courts decree that kind of thing anymore with dads?
And if they did, why didn’t he fight it?
However, it didn’t sound like there was a fight.
He said his “deal” with Deb was two years.
Had he agreed to this?
“Logan, that’s… I…”
I trailed off speaking because this wasn’t my place. They were his kids. It was his deal with his ex. He talked dispassionately about her and it seemed there was no acrimony.
I didn’t need to wade in and make any.
“You got somethin’ to say,” he remarked.
“No. I—”
I stopped talking when his arms gave me a squeeze.
“Millie, you got somethin’ to say, say it. Don’t hold back.”
I studied him.
Then I asked, “Are you… good with this arrangement?”
“Fuck no,” he answered. “But Deb never refuses when I ask for extra time but I still gotta do that shit, ask for extra time because I don’t have my girls.”
“Did she push this deal? Deb, I mean,” I asked.
“My idea,” he replied.
His?
“Logan,” I began cautiously, “I don’t get that, especially if you’re missing them and missing out in being with them.”
His arms tightened. “Babe, I’m a guy, so I never turned into a woman. Don’t know shit about cramps and…” his expression changed to one that it took a lot for me not to burst out laughing, “… other stuff. Deb obviously does. We get Clee-Clee through that and shit happens when they’re with m
e, she can help her sister through it until they get back to Deb.”
“You’re telling me you’ve given near full custody to your ex so you don’t have to deal in case your daughters start their periods with you?” I asked incredulously.
The expression came back. I made a noise this time while choking back laughter, the expression left and thunder started clouding his face.
“You got your period, you run to your dad to help you pick tampons?” he growled.
He had a point there.
He was still being funny.
“No,” I told him.
“Help get your moods? Which shit you should buy to deal, you get cramps?” he pushed.
“Deb is but a phone call away,” I reminded him, deciding not to note just yet that I was right at his side.
“That’s precious,” he stated in a way that made all amusement flee. “That happenin’, it’s precious. A girl becomin’ a woman. That’s a time of life to share with your mom. It’s not a memory you should have with your dad not knowin’ fuck all about it. How to guide you. How to help you. How to teach you how to experience something that’s only gonna have its start once but it’s gonna mean changes for years. Important ones. I don’t want that for my girls. I want them to have the precious. I want them to remember that happening and it to be a good memory. I don’t wanna fuck that up for them. Other shit comes with that. Realizin’ boys exist and why. How to deal with that. How to do their makeup. How to find the clothes they like to wear. I don’t want any of that shit to happen, Millie. I want them to stay my babies forever. But I got no choice. They’re growin’ up. And I got no clue how to guide them with any of that. Their mom does. So they need their mom.”
“You’re the most amazing man I’ve ever met,” I blurted, the feeling behind those words making them husky.
But I found, to my surprise, they were not bittersweet, the loss of all that he could have given a daughter we made.
They were just sweet, knowing he had it to give to his girls.
And I made it so he could.
His arms around me convulsed and then stayed tight.
But I had a feeling he misunderstood the emotion behind my words when he asked, “You okay?”
I snuggled into him. “Yeah. Actually, I think I’m more okay than I’ve been for a long time.”
“How’s that?”
“I have you back,” I told him. “And you have the babies you have to give what you have to give. It wasn’t ours to have. It was yours. And now, not only do you have it, I have you. So it sucked how we got here. But I’m beginning to understand it was worth it.”
A scratchy rumble rolled up his throat right before he bent his head and took my mouth.
We made out and there was a lot of feeling to that too.
None of it bittersweet.
All of it just sweet.
He lifted his head and said softly, “Give you this weekend. Friday dinner. Saturday time with you. Sunday time with you. We’ll go sleep at the RV. But next time I got ’em, all that time’s with you.”
I could make that compromise, so I nodded.
“Today, gonna sit down with Deb and explain that.”
Oh man.
“Got nothin’ to worry about,” he assured. “Already told her I was with someone and that someone is important. She doesn’t care. Just want her to know how I’m movin’ it along with the girls. She won’t care about that either. She trusts me to do right by the girls and she isn’t wrong in that trust.”
That made me feel better, so I nodded again.
“As for me, I’m moving in.”
My lips parted.
“I know we’re just back but I don’t give a fuck. I’m not takin’ that slow. Lost too much. Not gonna dick around gettin’ it all back. Leave the RV at Boz’s until I can get that garage out back torn down. Once that’s out, there’ll be room to store the RV here and do it not fuckin’ up the look of your courtyard.”
Before I could say a word, he finished.
“And you can have your alarm clock until Justine gets her teeth into shit and you can sort it so you don’t need one.”
“You’re moving in?” I asked.
“Yep.”
“You’re tearing down my garage?”
“You use it?”
“No.”
“Then yeah.”
“You… uh… Low, my house is girlie,” I pointed out.
“Furniture’s comfortable. Place is tight. Looks nice. Great kitchen. It works,” he stated.
“But it’s girlie,” I repeated.
“What do I care as long as the furniture’s comfortable and your ass sleeps beside mine?”
That was very sweet.
But it wasn’t the relief I expected it to be.
“I… um… this is a big decision,” I noted.
“Not anymore since it’s made.”
He hadn’t been a steamroller before when making decisions.
Then again, he had me then; he never thought he’d lose me, so he didn’t need to steamroll anything.
Cautiously, I shared, “We should get to know each other again, Low.”
“Came to you yesterday pissed as all shit. I know ’cause I saw you lose it, freaked at how pissed I was. But you lost that and got in my face. Told you all there was to know about the bad of the last twenty years with the Club. You took it in, let me fuck you on your couch and, when I got you to bed, you were out in five seconds tellin’ me none of that shit was fuckin’ with your brain. Millie, you’re an old lady. Doesn’t matter what you wear or where you live; it’s just in you. That shit happens when you fall for a biker and you got what it takes. You fell for a biker and never dug yourself out to find somethin’ else. There’s nothin’ more I need to know.”
“You seem to have an answer for everything,” I remarked, and his lips twitched.
“That’s ’cause I have an answer for everything.”
I frowned and replied, “You’re also egotistical.”
He started chuckling but asked through it, “Babe, you wanna sleep alone?”
I absolutely did not.
I decided not to answer.
He knew my answer.
“Right,” he stated. Then, “You work. I got my thing I do. We eat together. We fuck. We go to bed together. We get up. We fuck. You do your thing. I do mine. And repeat. Why would we do any of that without my clothes in your closet?”
I looked to his throat, muttering, “Apparently he does have an answer for everything.”
At that, he didn’t speak.
He just laughed.
I found that annoying but only annoying in the way any man who actually had a rational answer for everything would be annoying to a woman.
So I did not laugh.
I asked, “Are we done? Because I have the plans for a sweet-sixteen party to go over and that’s not gonna happen in this kitchen.”
He was still smiling when he replied, “We’re done.”
I rolled up on my toes, touched my mouth to his, rolled back, and broke from his arms to move to my coffee mug.
I retrieved it and walked to the back door, murmuring, “Have a good day, Snooks.”
“Back at ya,” he replied when I had my hand to the handle.
I looked to him.
Very faded jeans. The blue Henley.
He’d retrieved his coffee as well.
He looked comfortable in my kitchen. Not like he belonged, say, should someone need a model to use to take a photo in order to advertise my fabulous marble countertops.
But like he belonged because those countertops and the entire kitchen were mine.
And he was too.
“Love you, Low,” I said quietly.
His face was turned away, mug to his lips, but his eyes were cast to the side and on me when I spoke.
After I said what I said, his expression softened, he dropped the mug, and replied, “Back at ya.”
I grinned at him.
Then I opened th
e door, walked through, and went to work.
* * *
My cell on my desk chimed. I looked from Justine, sitting across from me going over the formal offer I’d typed out, Rafferty crawling around on my office floor, and turned my eyes to my phone.
At what I saw, I snatched it up, slid my finger on the screen, and read the entire text.
“Hang on, babe,” I muttered to Justine.
“Sure,” she muttered back, then louder, “Raff, baby boy, no on the trash bin.”
Rafferty reached out from crawling position, latched onto the side of my trash bin, and pulled it to him.
Wads of paper flew out.
Raff squealed with delight.
Justine moved to deal with the trash I didn’t care that Raff was reorganizing.
I hit the buttons to make the call I needed to make and put my phone to my ear, telling Justine, “Don’t worry about it. You know I don’t care.”
“Babe,” Logan answered a beat after I said my last word.
It was my turn to squeal with delight.
“The kitties are ready to pick up!”
“Yee ha!” Justine cried.
Rafferty rolled to his diapered tush and clapped his hands, or tried. He missed a lot but it was a good effort.
Logan’s voice was filled with humor when he said in my ear, “When?”
“This evening. Any time after six.”
“You got the shit?” he asked.
“What shit?” I asked back.
“Litter box. Food. Shit like that.”
I didn’t have the shit.
I needed the shit.
I glanced at my day’s to-do list.
Then I asked, “Uh… could you pick up the shit?”
There was a moment of silence before, still with humor but also with some resignation, he gave me the answer old Logan (who was very much like new Logan) would give.
“I’ll pick up the shit.”
“Thanks, Snooks,” I murmured, liking that he was going to pick up the shit. Then I ordered, “Kitty chow, not adult food. And that clumping litter, not anything that’s cheap. I saw online they have one that attracts kittens for litter training. Find that one. If you can’t, find one that might combat odors. And cute kitty bowls. Ones that match the house. Oh! And toys. Ones with feathers and stuff like that.”