Well all right, then, as long as we’re clear. When put that way, who could argue? They say love is a give and take. But if neither partner realizes they’re giving or taking anything, that doesn’t mean it’s trickery or coercion—it means it’s effortless. And that’s exactly what love should be, always.
He leaned in, and his mouth was less than an inch from mine when he asked in a low murmur, “What are you thinking?”
“That you’re absolutely right.” My voice came out husky, laden with romantic musings.
“No tricks, sweetheart. Completely up to you. Do you want to marry me?”
I answered immediately and instinctually, with no doubts whatsoever and no fancy setups necessary. “Yes. More than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.”
“Are you sure?” He pulled back just enough to see my eyes fully, and I hoped he saw the love they held for him.
I nodded as one of his hands curled around the back of my neck. The other wrapped around my waist and pulled me to his hard, authoritative lips that crashed upon mine.
After our mouths broke apart, I managed through heavy breaths, “We’re really doing this.” I wasn’t asking. I was just waiting for it to sink in.
“You said yes. No takebacks, sweetheart.” He kissed me again, his tongue stroking mine.
“No takebacks?” I laughed. “Oliver teach you that?”
“He cocked a brow. “What do you think?”
My nose stroked over his and I whispered, “Oliver’s right. No takebacks—ever.”
Chapter 7
Hand in hand, we walked up the steps of Logan’s porch—our porch, he’d insisted—just past eight that evening. The construction on my grandparents’ home had been originally delayed due to winter weather earlier in the year, which gave Logan plenty of time to persuade me to hold off on those plans and keep the insurance money in the bank. Not that it took much; by the time the last snow pile had melted, I was on board. It just made sense, as hard as it was to admit.
Yes, I was well aware that was his way of keeping me with him permanently. And as much as I missed my grandparents’ home, a new house wouldn’t fix that. So instead, we had the old house completely removed, laid down sod, and started a massive garden as soon as spring really hit. We had rows of delicious vegetables that Oliver loved to help with, and lots of beautiful flowers scenting the air. And in the middle stood my treehouse, untouched by the fire.
“So, are we telling Oliver tonight?” I asked, my voice hopeful.
“You think I can see my son and not give him the best news of our lives?” He gave a slight laugh before brushing his lips softly across mine and opening the front door.
“No,” I replied with a short giggle.
“Daddy! Cassie!”
Oliver flew into the foyer and wrapped his arms around both our legs, squeezing us tightly.
Logan lifted him up into a giant hug as Blythe, Logan’s mother, walked in from the kitchen, dish towel in hand.
“Hi,” I greeted her with a genuine smile, then looked at Oliver. “Hey lil’ man, I missed you. Can I have a hug t—?”
Before I had the question finished, Oliver had one arm thrown around me and was hanging like a spider monkey between us. “I missed you too!”
Logan let him down and we all headed to the living room, listening to Oliver tick off a long list of activities his grandma had occupied him with over the weekend.
“So you had fun?” Logan asked, laughing.
Oliver grunted. “Yes! Didn’t you hear me?”
We all laughed, watching Oliver control the room while we sat on the couch. Blythe sat in the chair across from us.
“Oh, and Grandpa surprised us with the best pizza ever last night! He even stayed and watched movies with us!”
Blythe’s smile faltered, and I couldn’t help the surge of sympathy I felt toward her. It was obvious she still loved her ex-husband. It was a shame, but some betrayals were too difficult to fully forgive.
Logan placed his hand on my knee and squeezed gently, snaring my wandering thoughts back to the moment.
“We have a surprise for you, son,” Logan said, a grin spreading across his face.
“What is it?” Oliver’s eyes grew wide as he stared up into his dad’s face from his spot on the carpet.
Logan looked questioningly to me, but I shook my head, telling him that he should be the one to make the announcement—not only to his son, but to his mother, who was still looking on silently.
“Cassandra and I are getting married next weekend.” My heart leapt at the words; hearing them from his mouth made it all so real. “What do you think about that?” Logan asked.
I heard Blythe’s gasp despite Oliver’s squealing, and somehow managed to dodge his elbow when Oliver jumped up on his dad’s lap for another hug. “Next week! Do I still get to be in your wedding? Does Scout?” He wiggled between us, his tiny body an unstoppable force, rocking around. “Grandma, did you hear? They’re getting married next week!”
We all laughed at his excited rambling.
“Congratulations to you both.” Blythe gave me a warm smile, then stood, as did Logan, who met her halfway for a long embrace. They exchanged hushed words before parting, and Blythe looked to me. “I’ve been wondering when a date would be set. And yes, it may be soon, but I’m more than happy to help with anything I can. I’m thrilled.”
“Thank you,” I told her.
She gave Logan another quick hug and pulled back, tears glistening in her eyes as she spoke directly to him. “Your father will be happy to hear this. You should call him later.”
“Of course, but tomorrow,” Logan replied with a nod.
“I’ve never been prouder. Seeing you raise your son alone for so long, I always worried you’d never find absolute happiness…and at times, it was unbearable to watch. I could see your pain, feel your anger, and it devastated me to know there was nothing I could do.”
Logan tilted his head slowly. “I know, Mom. But I couldn’t be happier now.”
She touched his cheek. “I know. You found your soulmate. Please don’t ever take that for granted.”
Logan peered back over his shoulder in my direction, catching me wiping away a lone tear. “Never.”
Oliver stepped between them. “Why are you crying, Grandma?”
Blythe lowered herself to his level and smiled. “Because my heart is happy.”
“Mine too!” he squealed.
“So, Oliver, you know what this means, don’t you?” Logan walked back toward the couch, sitting next to me and taking my hand.
Oliver whipped his head around and gave his father a confused look. Logan continued, “We’re getting married before Christmas. That means you have to clean the studio all week. Every paintbrush…by hand.” I caught the twitching in the corner of Logan’s lips.
Oliver drew out a long whine. “Aw, Daaad.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked as I turned toward Logan, who was now casting a loving smirk at his son. “Why does he have to clean your paintbrushes?”
“Why don’t you tell her, Oliver?”
“Daddy bet me you’d marry him before Christmas,” Oliver pouted, crossing his arms and lowering his chin to his chest. “Cassie, change your mind so I can get my new bike. Pleeease?”
“But then Cassie and I won’t be married,” Logan reminded him in a gentle but challenging tone.
We all watched as the young boy I’d come to love like my own pondered this, his mouth twisting and eyes looking up to the ceiling. “Never mind,” he said then, wearing a full smile. “I don’t need a bike!”
My heart burst with love, and the pride in both Logan’s and Blythe’s smiles was evident.
“Come here,” Logan said, opening his arms for Oliver. “You’re a good boy; caring and unselfish. And because you thought of others’ happiness first, I’m going to buy you the bike. But not until Christmas—and you still have to clean the paintbrushes,” he said with a laugh.
Oliver b
eamed. “Deal!”
“This is going to be so wonderful,” Blythe said, already across the room and grabbing her purse. “Have you told Julia yet? She’ll be excited to help, as well as Katherine.”
“I’ll tell everyone tonight,” Logan said, watching Oliver pull out a bag of Legos and spill them across the floor.
Blythe stood quietly for a long pause, then took a deep breath before adding, “Jax will be happy, too, if you can tell him. Or maybe you have a number where I can—”
“No, I don’t,” Logan muttered. He stood and exited the room, brusquely ending that line of conversation.
I knew it wasn’t my place, but I had to say something. Everyone blamed Blythe for keeping Jax’s birth a secret, but I respected her for it. She raised her husband’s lovechild as her own. If Logan didn’t have enough of his own anger toward Jax, I was sure he’d understand. But for the time being, it was something he refused to discuss.
Quietly, I moved across the room and stood beside Blythe, unable to bear the tears she was shedding silently.
“Jax is all right,” I whispered, placing a hand gently on her arm. “He sends Oliver postcards all the time. Logan doesn’t like it, but he allows Oliver to have them. Last one was about three weeks ago, from Seville.”
Her eyes widened slowly. “Spain?” she whispered back, obviously stunned he was abroad.
I nodded. “He’ll come back as soon as he’s ready. I know it,” I said quietly.
Then, I sat down with Oliver and began helping him build the tallest, bluest Lego tower we could until it was time for bed.
Chapter 8
Monday found me overwhelmed, anticipation and urgency mixing into an unsettling combo. While I couldn’t wait to marry Logan, I was starting to doubt it could be pulled off in time.
I’d convinced myself it would be easy to take Caleb and Hilary’s wedding package as offered and make its pieces our own. And aside from a few changes, it was coming together nicely. But my head was still slipping into a weird place I couldn’t quite understand. Something was missing.
I needed a dress that felt right, and I wanted to change out Hilary’s flower arrangements to something more “me.” The easiest thing was swapping out locations, since getting married on their property didn’t hold sentimental value for us. I knew Logan would agree to say our vows on my grandparents’ land, and he readily did. After that, we called the band and caterers to fill them in and adjust the playlist and menu to better suit our tastes.
Then there were the invitations to send out, and since there weren’t too many on my side, it seemed easy—that is, until Blythe revealed Logan’s family tree. Luckily, she agreed to handle that task for me, assuring me she’d overnight the invitations after making some quick calls to give everyone a heads-up. So again, for the most part, it was coming together.
But somehow, despite my excitement, there was a giant ball of anxiety rocking around my stomach by the time Julia arrived to pick up Oliver and me later that afternoon after her morning classes. Blythe had scheduled an appointment with one of her friends who owned a bridal shop in the city. It was a long shot, but my only real chance of getting a dress altered to my needs by the weekend.
My mom was thrilled when I called her with the wedding news the previous night, but couldn’t take time off work to go with us. I promised to send photos though, which seemed to help her disappointment that she tried to hide. Truth be told, my mom was never really good with shopping anyway, or the whole girly thing—I mean, she’s a sheriff. So as much as I wished she’d be there, I felt comfortable going without her.
Julia bounced into the house, optimism oozing off her. “You ready?”
“I’m ready!” Oliver clapped his hands. “Can Scout come?”
I laughed, patting his head. “Better leave him at home this time. I need all your help finding the perfect dress to wear when I marry your daddy.”
“And then we’ll be a real family?” he asked, hope lighting his eyes.
I opened my mouth, but before I could decide on the appropriate response, Julia nailed it.
“You’re already a real family, Oliver. You guys love each other and enjoy spending every night and morning together. That’s what a family is.”
Seemingly satisfied with her explanation, Oliver gave a crooked smile as we headed out, loading up into the car.
Babs’ Bridal Boutique was as fabulous as Babs herself, a sixty-something-year-old diva dressed to headline a Vegas show; her dress selection left little need to go elsewhere. She took a good twenty minutes “ooh”-ing and “ahh”-ing over “Logan’s girl” before Blythe distracted her to allow Julia and me to look around. I was pleasantly surprised by her vast selection, pulling a number of dresses.
But trying them on revealed just how difficult finding the right one would be. They were all stunning, but I was waiting for that feeling—that moment when I saw my reflection in the mirror and just knew that was the one.
By dress four, my smile was slipping, as was my excitement.
“Cassie, you all right? Is it too tight?” Julia rushed to my side when I stepped up onto the box in the center of the mirrored show room.
“N-no, it’s fine.” The dress was gorgeous, but it wasn’t my dress. “I’m fine.” I managed past the lump that was manifesting quickly in my throat. I didn’t want to worry Oliver, who was busy weaving in and out of the racks of dresses. “I just…maybe…need to take a break.”
“Okaaay,” Julia replied skeptically.
I stepped down, holding up the bottom of the gown and heading into the dressing room to change. Through the curtain, I heard Julia say, “Listen, if we don’t find anything here, don’t worry. We will find the perfect dress.”
“It’s not that,” I called out from the dressing room, unable to get out of the suffocating confines of the lace garment fast enough.
“Then what is it?”
I sighed, choosing the correct words slowly. “I just…after all the ups and downs Logan and I went through, this feels sudden. I was kinda enjoying normalcy for a while.”
Suddenly, the curtain was ripped back to reveal a scowling Julia. Luckily, I’d slipped my own outfit back on by then. “Are you having second thoughts about marrying my brother?”
I shook my head side to side vigorously before I answered. “No. I…it’s just…a lot, very fast. Feels like the same roller-coaster ride we just got off of.” I peered over her shoulder—not only to check on Oliver, but to avoid her scrutinizing glare. “Don’t get defensive, Julia. I love your brother more than anything, and you know it.”
“Well, okay then.” She blew out her relief. “As long as that’s true. Everything else is sudden, sure, but fixable. You love my brother and nephew. Leave the rest to me and my mom. Deal?”
“Deal,” I agreed for the sake of peace, though I was still skeptical.
“I found one!”
Oliver appeared, dragging—yes, dragging—a long, fairly simple dress behind him. “Look! It’s sparkly, and you love sparkles, right Cassie?” He attempted to hold it higher.
Julia took the gown and gave it a quick appraisal. “It’s pretty, but I think a little too simple.” She looked down at Oliver. “Good job, but let’s keep looking.”
But before she could hang it on the nearest rack, it was in my hands. “No. I want to try it on. I do love sparkles.” I gave Oliver a smile, then headed back into the dressing room.
I hung it on the hook and looked it over. There was no large train, or massive layers of tulle. Instead, the skirt was a soft, flowy chiffon. The ruched bodice was adorned with a few tiny crystals, and together these elements created a dress that was a classic beauty. It was actually far from simple. It was breathtaking.
When I stepped onto the box inside the dressing room, every reflection of myself surrounding me overwhelmed my senses. This was it. This was the one. My knees wobbled, and tears sprung to my eyes.
Julia was still out in the show room, but Oliver had appeared in the dressing room
as I was distracted by my reflection. He stood there beside me, smiling until he looked up at me. A frown suddenly marred his adorable face.
“Don’t cry.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’ll find another one.” He turned to run but I snared his hand gently, already squatting down to sit on the box.
He stepped closer hesitantly, and I pulled him in for a hug. I held his cheeks in my palms as he pulled back, needing him to hear me.
“I’m crying because I’m happy. This dress is perfect. It’s everything I dreamed of.”
A slow smile formed on his lips. “Really?”
I nodded, sniffling. “And I couldn’t find one before because I wasn’t meant to—you were. So thank you. Thank you for finding my dress, and thank you for allowing me to love you and your father. Because I do—with all my heart.”
I hugged him again, this time more tightly, tears rolling freely down my face.
“We love you too,” he said in my ear before adding in a faint whisper, “Will you be my new mommy now?”
I pulled back just enough to peer into his beautiful blue eyes as he continued.
“I don’t think my mommy is very nice sometimes, and she never makes me pancakes like you do or tells funny stories. And Daddy said she’s never coming back, and…” He bit his lip, casting his eyes downward as he leaned back in and whispered, “I don’t really want her to.” He attempted a step back, looking ashen. “Does that make me bad?” he asked, a tear falling down onto his quivering chin.
I wiped it away and pulled him to sit on my lap, not allowing his grief to continue. “No, honey, that makes you human. It’s okay to feel that way. I think you mother loves you as best she can, but she has a sickness, and it means she can’t be with you.”
“She got lots of burns, huh?”
“Yeah, she did, but she’s going to be okay. She’s in a place where they’ll take care of her for a long time.”
He stared off, drying his eyes.