Seven of Hearts

28. Leah

28

LEAH

“ S eriously, dude?” I paused on the porch and let out a sharp breath as the baby karate kicked me in the ribs. “Five minutes. Just give me five minutes without punching me in the ribs.”

In response, he punched the other side of my ribcage.

“Look. We’ve got ten more weeks to go, little man. You’ve gotta quit trying to fight your way out.”

“Is he giving you trouble?”

I looked up to find Erica Pelham walking down the path between our houses, and offered a weak smile. “He thinks my organs are a trampoline and my ribs are monkey bars.”

She snickered as her two kids rode their bikes alongside her. “You’re going to have your hands full.”

I looked at the porch banister that was half-decorated with a lush green garland. “I may have overestimated my energy today. Maybe Christmas Eve wasn’t the best day to start decorating.”

Erica’s smile was kind. “Have the boys do it. I’ll send Steve down to help Logan when he gets off work.”

I parted my legs wide, grabbed the porch railing, and carefully squatted to pick up the tail end of the garland. “I was hoping to get it done before Logan got back.” I glanced at the time on my phone. “But it looks like it’s just going to be half-done.”

“I remember those days well,” Erica said as she tossed her curls over her shoulder. “Having the mental desire to tackle a full day, but not even enough energy to get out of bed.”

“It’s making me stir crazy,” I confessed.

“How’s the house coming?” she asked. “You guys ready for the baby to come?”

I glanced over my shoulder at the little cottage that was slowly becoming home. “Getting there. I’m still looking for a rocking chair that I love. I swear, the thrift shops hate to see me coming. I think they might start putting signs on the door that say they haven’t gotten new inventory.”

“I’m sure you’ll find something you like soon.” She glanced down at her kids. “All right, monsters. Let’s let Miss Leah get back to work.” She smiled at me. “We just wanted to check on you.”

I lifted an eyebrow. “How convenient that Logan is over at Kristin’s house and someone dropped by to check on me.”

Erica snickered as the kids turned to ride their bikes back down the path. “He may have sent me a text a little bit ago, asking if I could look out my window and see if you were putting up Christmas decorations.” She pressed her finger to her lips. “This will be our little secret.”

That man . . .

I laughed and said my goodbyes to Erica and the kids and finished looping the garland around the porch railing.

Logan may have said something about waiting until he got home to decorate, but I only had twelve hours until it was Christmas and I wanted it to be festive, dammit!

I should have known he would find some way to spy on me to make sure I wasn’t over exerting myself. I turned toward the doorbell camera we had just installed. I knew he’d be watching, so I flipped it off, then shook my ass to give him a little show.

My phone dinged with a text.

Logan: Hot mama.

A wreath I had snagged during a thrifting trip was sitting on the front step. I loved second-hand Christmas decorations. It was like bringing another family’s holiday memories into my home. I added some fresh ribbon and fluffed out the bow before grabbing a hammer and adding a nail to the door to hang it.

I centered the wreath and took a step back to make sure it was just right.

“Looks good.”

I screeched, clapping my hand over my mouth as I spun to find my mother standing behind me.

“Oh my god!” I pressed my hand to my chest, then my belly. “You scared me!”

It had been a month and a half since we had seen each other. From the outset, she was the same woman I had known all my life. But there was something distinctly different about her, I just couldn’t put my finger on it.

“Hi, Leah,” she said as she peered at the house.

I racked my brain, but I couldn’t remember telling her I had moved or what the address was. It had been something I wanted to address in person so that I could be clear when I told her that Logan and I were in it for the long haul.

So why was she here?

Dr. Mehta knew my new address and had been by to bring us a housewarming dinner. Maybe she had stopped by my apartment and he told her where to find me.

“I think I parked at your neighbor’s house by accident. She showed me where the path was, and I walked.”

“Oh.” That explained some of it, I guess.

“Are you busy?” she asked, clutching a festive gift bag in her hand.

I wanted to be. Something fierce and fiery had bubbled up inside of me when I turned and saw her. I had the distinct urge to hold my son protectively, even though he was still inside of me. It was the desire to turn and lock her out.

I would not subject myself or my child to her hatefulness or judgment.

“It depends on why you’re here,” I said.

She nodded. “That’s fair.”

That was . . . not the response I expected.

The December air blowing off the bay was sharp and bone-chilling. I hitched my thumb over my shoulder, toward the door. “Do you want to come in?”

She nodded and followed me inside.

“Wow,” she said, looking around as I closed the door behind us. “It looks like you in here.”

I didn’t know whether to take that as a compliment or not. I glanced at the colorful walls, the eclectic furniture, and my little Christmas tree that was decorated in twinkling lights, dried orange slices, and a cranberry garland. “It’s a work in progress.”

“It looks great.”

A feather could have knocked me over. Who the hell was this impostor in my mother’s body? Were we about to have a Freaky Friday situation? I really didn’t have time for that.

“Um, do you want tea or something? Or I think there’s still some coffee in the pot...”

“That’s alright. I don’t want to put you out.”

Something was definitely up, and I was suspicious. She was being far too gracious.

“How’d you know where the house was?” I asked with a little bit of an edge to my voice. I didn’t want her to think that, just because she was playing nice, I had forgotten how horrible she had been to me and to Logan. I certainly hadn’t forgotten that they had tried to pay him to leave me.

She brushed a non-existent strand of hair away from her face. “Logan told me.”

“He what?”

She glanced down and fingered the tissue paper in the bag. “We’ve been in contact.”

That was news to me. Logan never said a word about it. Our mothers were sore spots for both of us, and we preferred to let the dead be dead.

Which didn’t explain why he had sent a zombie to our house without giving me a weapon.

She pulled her phone from the pocket of her winter coat and opened up a text thread. “He’s been sending me updates.”

Ultrasound photos, pictures of the house, and my weekly bump pictures littered the screen.

“I have no idea how he got my phone number,” she said with a wry laugh. “I doubt you gave it to him.”

“He runs a tech company. He’s good at finding people.”

She nodded understandingly. “I’ve been going to therapy.”

Did she just say the T-word?

I really needed to sit down now. Passing out and cracking my head open on the kitchen counter during the third trimester was probably unadvisable. I grabbed one of the kitchen chairs out from the table and slowly lowered down as my head spun.

“What brought that about?” I asked.

Her lips quirked. “Joanne may have heard that your father and I tried to pay off Logan. She came into my office and pointed out a few personal traits that I don’t particularly like admitting that I have.”

“You two always did speak the same language...”

“But Logan was the one who made me see it. The first text he sent me said that I wasn’t to have contact with you until I could prove that I wasn’t going to be a detriment to your life the way his mother was to his. And he sent me updates so that I knew exactly what I was missing.” She twisted her fingers together in a nervous tic I had never seen her show before. “I was always so judgmental of the Boyds.”

“Solomons,” I clipped, reminding her yet again. “Kylie and Logan changed their last name to the family they chose.”

“Right.” She sighed. “I never stopped to realize that I was being just as hurtful to you by trying to control you, as their parents were to their children by doing what they did. And I don’t want to lose you the way that Logan’s parents have rightfully lost their kids.”

I lifted my eyebrows. “Therapy told you that, huh? You’re a psychologist. Didn’t you know all of that from the get-go?”

She cracked a smile. “You know what they say. Doctors make the worst patients. We don’t like following our own advice. When Logan gave me his ultimatum, I decided to give therapy a try. I fired three therapists in the first four days. Then, the fourth therapist told me that they were all saying the same thing, and I simply wasn’t listening.”

I could see it then. The weariness in her eyes. They weren’t as sharp and exacting as they usually were. She was tired.

Frankly, I was too.

“I’m sorry, Leah.”

Those three words shook me to my core. I believed them, too. She looked wounded and contrite, a look I had never seen her wear.

“I tried so hard to make sure you had a good life that I didn’t stop and think that maybe your good life and mine look different.”

She glanced around the cottage. It was a far cry from the flawless, but sterile gray and beige home I grew up in.

“I went about it all wrong. And for the record, I’ve apologized to Joanne too.” Her smile was sad. “It was hard for me to come to terms when you two broke up. Being a parent of an adult is hard. I just wanted the best thing for you, and I suppose I was still holding on to you as a little girl, rather than a grown woman. I wanted you to be happy. But I was high and mighty and didn’t take into consideration that you knew your relationship best, and that ending it was in the best interest of both of you. And Logan...”

The baby kicked at the sound of his father’s name.

“I think we’re good for each other,” I said. “It takes two people invested in a relationship, right? Working as a team. That’s what you’ve always told me at least.” I smoothed my hand over my belly. “Joanne and I were in a relationship, but we were never a team. But Logan...He meets me where I am, and I think I do the same for him. We’re not perfect, but we’re growing in the same direction.”

“I’m starting to see that.” She glanced at the picture frames that littered the walls.

Some were of Logan and his siblings. Of Logan and Kylie. Some were of Kylie and me. And some were newer—selfies Logan and I had snapped together mixed with sonograms. Soon, we’d add newborn pictures to the mix. The start of a new narrative.

“How does Kylie feel about it?”

I snorted. “She came around faster than you did.”

The corners of my mother’s mouth twitched in a smile. “Does Kylie’s nephew have a name yet?”

I shook my head. “We haven’t been able to decide yet. And all of Logan’s siblings should be banned from naming children because all their suggestions are terrible.”

That drew a laugh from her. “I’m sure you’ll settle on something. You’ll know when it’s right.” She set the gift bag on the table in front of me. “I wasn’t sure what your plans were for Christmas or if you had a tree, but I thought you might like to have these. They were always your favorite.”

I yanked out the tissue paper and peered inside, then smiled. “My favorite ornaments.” Carefully, I pulled out the train, nutcracker, and mailbox ornaments.

“I would always find little pieces of paper stuffed in the mailbox because you wanted to make sure there was something inside when it was on the tree. And I had to keep the train and the nutcracker on the lower branches because you always wanted to play with them. The Christmas when you were three, you almost pulled the tree down trying to get to them. I thought it was only fitting that your son get to terrorize you in the same way.”

I laughed as I scooped up the ornaments and started to push out of the chair to put them on the tree.

“Don’t get up,” she said quickly, laying a hand on my shoulder. “Stay off your feet. I can put them over there for you.”

“Did Logan put you up to that too?” I called over my shoulder as she circumvented the empty moving boxes I needed to flatten. “Making sure I don’t move a muscle?”

“I didn’t put her up to it,” Logan said as he walked through the kitchen, then leaned down to give me a quick kiss. “It’s just common sense when you’re this pregnant.”

“Geez.” I clasped my hand to my chest. “What is with everybody sneaking up on me? What are you doing here? I thought you were in your meeting with Will and Bryan.”

Mom straightened and folded her hands in front of her. “Logan.”

“Laura,” he retorted in the same frosty tone. But there was some good-natured humor hiding behind it too.

Never in the history of my life had anyone called my mother by her first name and gotten away with it.

“How’s therapy?” he asked as if he was asking about the weather.

“It’s unpleasant.”

“Good,” he said. “Growth is uncomfortable.”

I glanced between the two of them. “This is so weird. Should I look outside? Are pigs flying?”

Logan pulled up a kitchen chair, facing mine so we were knee to knee, and started unpacking my testing kit. “How are you feeling today?” he asked, paying my mother no mind as he tore into an alcohol wipe and took my hand to clean my finger.

“All right.” I glanced at the clock. Time had gotten away from me since Erica and my mom stopped by, and I hadn’t realized it was time to check my sugar levels.

“What’s the matter?” my mom asked.

Logan leaned forward at the same time I did so that I could rest my head on his shoulder. I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth as he pricked my finger and squeezed out a drop of blood.

“She was diagnosed with gestational diabetes,” Logan said as he waited for the glucose meter to register the droplets.

I released my breath when I felt him dab my finger with a cotton ball.

“But...You can’t stand the sight of needles or blood. You always pass out.” For the first time in a long time, there was panic in her voice. She was having a human moment, but it was one she desperately needed to have. “Don’t you have to do that a few times a day?”

“Yep.” I took a deep breath as I felt Logan press the insulin pen against my thigh.

“Deep breath,” he said gently.

I squeezed the ever-living daylights out of his arm as the needle pierced my leg.

“You’re okay. I’ve got you,” Logan said as he rubbed my back with his free hand. “Just keep your eyes closed for a second. I’m not in a hurry.”

“You have to get back to your meeting,” I choked out as I tried to settle into a normal breathing pattern.

I heard him set the insulin pen on the table. “I have time, so take all of it that you need. And if you need more time, they can wait.”

I rested on his shoulder for another minute, not caring that my mother was watching or that Logan had to get back to work. It was as if we were in our own little cocoon.

Slowly, I sat up and blinked away the haze.

“You good?” he asked, studying my eyes before packing up the testing kit.

I nodded. “Thanks for coming over. I lost track of time.”

“Make sure you get a snack or something. I won’t be over there too much longer. We just have a few more things to wrap up and I’ll be done for the day.”

“Okay.” I met him in the middle for a quick kiss, then smacked his ass for good measure as he stood. “I love you.”

“Love you too, honeybee.” He headed to the door, tossing out, “Catch you later, Laura,” as he slipped out.

My mother looked half amused at Logan’s nonchalance and half concerned at me. “He does that...every day?”

I nodded.

“Multiple times a day?” she pressed like she couldn’t quite believe it.

“It’s preferable to me passing out every time I have to prick my finger.”

Her eyes turned misty. “He’s a man of his word. He promised me that he would do everything he could to take care of you.”

I glanced at the seven of hearts card that I had framed and hung on the wall. Maybe it was more than a lucky number seven.

Luck was simply a pleasant happenstance. But Logan was intentional. With that single playing card, he had promised me that he would do better.

At the time, I hadn’t been entirely sure what that meant. But now, I did.

“He really loves you, doesn’t he?” Mom said wistfully.

I had never doubted it. But every day since that promise, he gave me evidence that he was a man of his word.

He had worked on himself and met me in the middle to carve out a life that was uniquely and purposefully ours. He prioritized me in ways that I had never felt in any other relationship—romantic, platonic, or filial.

And maybe that’s how I knew that it was meant to be, regardless of the road that brought us to this place.

“Yeah,” I said as I rested my arms on top of my belly. “He loves us.”