15. Leah
15
LEAH
“ H ave a great day!” I called after Gio and Ellie as I dropped them off in front of their school. Gio’s backpack hung from one shoulder. He took Ellie’s backpack and put it on the other to carry it inside for her.
They waved goodbye, but I sat at the end of the car line until they made it safely inside.
It wasn’t even eight in the morning, and I was already yawning. Usually, this was the part of the day where I was ready to seize the crap out of it and get shit done.
I’d run through a drive-thru and grab a cup of coffee before I tackled the in-town errands, then head to one of the houses.
But today I wanted to crawl back in bed and sleep. I was waiting for the promised land of nesting energy and better moods, but they were nowhere to be found in week sixteen.
I swung through the grocery store parking lot, thankful for the sweet kid who rolled the bags out on a dolly and loaded them into my trunk so I didn’t even have to walk inside.
Unfortunately, it meant that I sat in my car with the heat pumping for ten minutes, slowly lulling me back to sleep.
I needed caffeine, but I was trying to keep it to a minimum, and I knew I’d need the jolt this afternoon to make it to the end of the day.
When I backed into the DeRossis’ driveway and popped the trunk to start unloading everything, Logan appeared.
“Morning,” he said as he walked across the grass, holding a plate covered in tin foil.
I glanced at the time. It wasn’t quite nine yet, but surely he had work to do. “Hey.”
“Go unlock the door. I’ll carry the bags inside,” he said as he pecked my cheek and handed me the plate.
“What’s this?” I asked as I peeked under the foil cover.
“Breakfast,” he said as he started loading bags onto each arm.
“Well, I can see that,” I said with a laugh. “You don’t have to carry the bags in. I can get them.”
“I’m not arguing that you can’t. But you seem like a one-trip kind of woman, and you’re probably not supposed to be lifting all this.”
I huffed and trudged up the stairs, punching in the code to the electronic door lock with a little more oomph than necessary. The lock chirped and released. Logan waited for me to head inside before following.
“Just set them on the kitchen island,” I said as I turned the lights on.
Luca DeRossi was out of town on a work trip, and Maddie had gone to Revanche, the restaurant where she was a pastry chef, to open up at the crack of dawn. I didn’t mind when they were around, but today the house was blissfully quiet and empty.
“Thanks,” I tacked on, a little sheepish at having someone else do my job.
“Sit. Eat,” he said as he turned to grab the rest of the groceries.
“Logan,” I argued.
But he was already out the door.
I huffed and sat on a barstool that was pushed up to the island and pulled the aluminum foil off the food. A sectioned plate held mini pancakes, a little cup of syrup so the pancakes wouldn’t be spongy, maple-y mush before they were eaten, sliced bananas, and a pile of the crispiest golden hash browns. Little flecks of translucent onions were mixed with the shredded potatoes. It was a beautiful sight.
“Almost forgot,” Logan said as he came in with the second load of bags, unloaded them, and reached into his pocket for a salt shaker. “So you can put as much as you want on the hash browns.”
Now that was suspicious. “The sectional plate was one thing. The syrup cup was another. Two things are a coincidence. Three things are a conspiracy.”
He looked innocent as a baby lamb as he started pulling groceries and household items out of the bags. “It’s just breakfast.”
“It’s a conspiracy,” I whispered as I dipped one of the mini pancakes in the syrup and popped the entire thing into my mouth.
Logan stifled a smile. “You believe in breakfast conspiracies. Huh. I’ll have to add that to my list.”
“Ha! So there is a conspiracy!” I said as I pointed at him. “I’m going to need further explanation of this list.”
He snickered under his breath as he reached over the mountain of groceries and stole a banana slice. “The list that says you hate eggs in nearly all forms. That bananas should never be mixed with anything because they overpower all other flavors. Same with bacon. That sauces should always be on the side, but salads should come pre-dressed, because stirring a salad with a plastic fork to get all the lettuce coated with dressing is a pain in the ass. And speaking of salads, the list also says that everything in a salad should be chopped to the same size so that it’s scoopable and you don’t have giant chunks of iceberg lettuce with tiny toppings that fall off the fork.” Logan nudged the salt shaker toward me. “And that hash browns should be fried in a fifty-fifty mix of melted butter and oil with diced onions, but not to season them until it’s time to eat because you like the crunch of the salt on top.”
I picked up the shaker and gave the hash browns a generous snowfall of salt before taking a bite.
“Oh my God,” I groaned through a mouthful of shredded potatoes. “I don’t even care what kind of espionage you had to do to get that information. Potatoes are my love language. These are the best hash browns I’ve ever had. I could kiss you right now.”
Without warning, Logan rounded the island, slid one hand into my hair, and tipped my chin up with the other.
“I’ve been waiting for you to say that,” he murmured as he slanted his mouth over mine. His hands were gentle, but his grip was firm, keeping my head in place as he kissed me.
My heart did somersaults as he slid his tongue across the seam of my lips and pushed into my mouth. I let out a little whimper as he lapped against my tongue, arching into him. Logan cupped my jaw, keeping my chin up as he pulled his hand from my hair and rested it on my bump.
The kiss softened and slowed, but Logan never pulled away. Instead, he tugged my lower lip between his teeth and smiled.
A gasp slipped from my mouth, and our eyes met like clouds crashing in rolls of thunder. He left me with one final feather-light kiss.
“What was that for?” I whispered, half-dazed and rendered almost completely speechless.
He wiped his thumb across my lip. “Because I haven’t thought about anything else. I didn’t kiss you nearly enough the night we hooked up.” He smirked. “So when I start making you hash browns every day, don’t be surprised.”
Heat flashed across my face and my cheeks flushed bright red. “I probably shouldn’t be making out in my boss’s kitchen,” I whispered as I pressed my hands to my cheeks. “And shouldn’t you be working instead of making me breakfast and kissing me in your neighbor’s kitchen?”
Logan chuckled and went back to the other side of the island, giving me space to finish eating. “I’m on West Coast time today with the meetings I have to be part of. So I’m free until lunch, but I won’t be off until nine tonight.”
“And you decided to use your morning off to...”
“Make your breakfast since you never have time to eat in the morning,” he said.
I stabbed a banana slice. “I’m very curious how you knew all of my specific preferences.”
Logan chuckled. “I told you I was going to help you. But are you still holding up your end of the deal?”
“About being your friend?” I said around a mouthful of hash browns.
Logan nodded.
“We’ve always been friends,” I said. “I think that’s why I felt comfortable hooking up with you after the wedding. We were never strangers. We just weren’t supposed to...”
“Cross that line,” he supplied.
“Yeah,” I said as I poked around the hash browns.
It had been a week since Kylie found out that Logan was the father of the baby, and there had been complete radio silence on her end. I had texted and called her nearly every day, wanting to talk things out, but she never answered.
Even when I saw her going to and from her sister’s house next door, she never looked my way.
It shattered my heart. Kylie had been my oldest and best friend. We survived the ups and downs of middle school and high school social hierarchy. We had survived going to different colleges, dating at different times, and pursuing different paths. We had survived the changes of our early and mid-twenties, where our lives were seemingly moving in separate directions.
Nothing had ever tested us like this. I thought it would shake our friendship. I never thought it would end it.
“But we did,” Logan said as he balled up the grocery bags and stuffed them inside each other. “And if I’m being honest, maybe I don’t feel so bad that you’re not my little sister’s best friend anymore.”
My stomach sank.
Logan rounded the island and cupped my bump with both hands. “Because you two are mine.”
I let out a sharp breath. “Do not make me cry today, Logan Solomon. I cried the entire first trimester and I’m sick of it.”
He smiled and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Kylie will come around. She’s just stubborn.”
Logan had the words, but did he have the music? Sure, breakfast was thoughtful. Same with all the texts that lit up my phone when we were separated during the workday, checking in on how I was feeling and asking if I needed anything.
But was he really into the pregnancy? Doctor’s visits were my least favorite thing in the world. I detested them with every fiber of my being. Ultrasounds freaked me out. Having blood drawn made me pass out every single time. I hated the tingly feeling in my hand when I had my blood pressure taken. It was the worst.
“I have a doctor’s appointment next month,” I hedged.
Logan appeared completely unfazed. “Yeah?”
“It’s the—um—the anatomy scan where they can tell if the baby is a boy or a girl.”
He perked up. “Really? What day?”
His curiosity surprised me. “Um. The twenty-ninth.”
Logan had his phone out and was scrolling through his calendar app. “Do you know what time it is?"
“Ten in the morning, while Gio and Ellie are at school.”
“Can I come?” He looked up. “Or is it something you want to do on your own? I can drive you there if you need a ride.”
“You...want to come?” I narrowed my eyes. “Willingly. To the OBGYN?”
He nodded as he put the information into his phone. “Leah, I told you I’m in. This is what that looks like.”