Chapter 36 Logan
LOGAN
It’s been almost two months since we closed the Olympus deal and life has been good. Not because of the money or the positive press—although that has been nice—but mostly because of how content I’ve been. Happy.
Really fucking happy.
Settled in a way I never knew was possible.
And I owe it all to the woman who’s been snoring on my couch for the last few hours, although she’d totally deny the snoring part if I ever called her on it.
I glance toward the living room, where Rosie is napping, one bare leg exposed from beneath the fuzzy blanket that’s draped over her.
She came over straight from visiting her cousin, unzipped her shorts, did some Houdini thing where she removed her bra without taking off her top, dropped them both right where she was standing, and crawled onto the couch.
Her lingerie and shorts are now neatly folded on my dresser, while a barely-dressed Rosie snoozes away.
I smile as I watch her, taking in the rare sight of Rosalie Morales at rest in the middle of the day.
She’s always moving, buzzing around with her signature energy.
I don’t think she knows what to do with herself if she’s not juggling twenty different things at once.
It’s just how she rolls. Some people might think it’s chaotic—and if I’m being real, Rosie is chaotic—but the way her brain processes so much stimuli at once is fucking beautiful to me.
It’s kind of like a superpower. I know she’s had her challenges over the years, but the more educated the world becomes on neurodivergence, the more space there is for her to be herself.
If you ask me, it takes someone truly special to thrive in an environment where you’re constantly jumping over hurdles.
The scent of tomatoes and garlic mingles with the light breeze drifting in through the open windows.
I stir the sauce and glance toward the hallway, my nerves kicking in about the surprise waiting in the bedroom.
I’m not sure why. I’m confident in Rosie’s commitment to me.
I’m almost positive she’ll say yes. But the slim probability that she’ll say no is nagging at me because it’d crush me.
I’d understand if she thought it was too soon, but it’d still hurt.
Rosie groans, drawing my eyes back to her as she stretches, arms overhead and spine arching off the couch. Her top rides up, exposing the smooth curve of her stomach and two very erect nipples pressing against the fabric.
Christ.
“How long have I been asleep?” she mumbles.
My brain stalls because I’m staring at her chest like a teenage idiot.
“Logan?”
“Hmm?”
“How long was I sleeping?” Rosie sits up, looking around. “And where are my shorts?”
Shit.
I never thought my tidiness would work against me, but here we are.
“Uh…they’re in the bedroom. I’ll grab ’em.”
“I can get—”
I’m already in the hallway before she can finish her sentence. “Nope. I’m good.”
I grab the shorts and hustle back to the living room. She gives me her What the hell is wrong with you? look so I take a breath and casually toss her shorts on the couch and make my way back to the kitchen.
“Thanks,” Rosie mutters.
There’s some shuffling as she slips them on before padding barefoot—still braless—over to the kitchen to join me.
“That smells amazing.” Rosie comes up beside me, leaning against the counter. “Whatcha making?”
“Keeping it simple. Spaghetti, garlic bread, salad.” My eyes dart down to her nipples again.
Why the fuck am I acting like I’ve never seen a pair of breasts before?
She follows my gaze, smirking when she sees what I’m looking at. “Perv.”
I shrug. “In my defense, you’re braless and wearing a thin-as-fuck white T-shirt with pierced nipples. My eyes are going to naturally be drawn to them. Plus, you have a really great rack, and I never claimed to be a saint.”
She laughs. “Oh, I’m well aware you’re not a saint. For which I am quite grateful. Also…my rack thanks you for the compliment.”
I grab her by the hip, pulling her in for a quick kiss. “Your rack can thank me more thoroughly later if you’re up for it. But first…you’re on salad duty.” I give her a little nudge and a light smack on the ass. “Get to it, woman.”
She pulls open the fridge, making a show out of bending forward as she digs through the crisper.
I damn near drop the spoon as I’m taste-testing the sauce.
“We need music.” She scrolls through her phone, selecting a playlist before connecting it to the apartment’s built-in sound system. “Look at us playing house.”
Damn, if she only knew how close she is to the mark.
“You know I’m game for a little role play, baby. All you need to do is ask.”
Say yes, and we won’t be playing anymore.
Rosie bumps her hip into mine as she reaches over to grab a cutting board. “Always making it dirty.”
I set the sauce on the warmer, grab a large pot, and fill it with water.
“Which you just admitted you love,” I remind her.
Her full lips curve into a knowing grin. “Yes, I did.”
We fall into an easy rhythm after that, Rosie putting together a garden salad while I boil the pasta, trying—and mostly failing—to not get distracted by the way her hips sway instinctively to the beat.
We eat on the terrace, like we have been every Saturday lately, talking, laughing…kissing. When the kissing becomes heated, I know I need to hit the brakes before I get distracted and ruin my surprise.
“Hey,” I say, pulling back slightly and brushing my thumb along her jaw, “there’s something I want to show you.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Does it start with a D and end with a K?”
I chuckle, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “No. But I can show you that later.” I stand and tug her up with me, interlacing our fingers. “Come back downstairs with me.”
Rosie’s still half-smiling as we head inside, probably from whatever smartass remark she’s holding on to, but there’s curiosity in her eyes now.
When we reach the bedroom door, I pause.
“Okay, close your eyes.” My hand tightens around hers.
“You’d better not let me trip over anything.”
I place my hands on her shoulders. “I’ve got you, Pip.”
She sighs dramatically but closes her eyes anyway.
I push the door open and guide her inside, careful to leave a wide gap away from any hazards.
“Okay,” I say softly. “You can look now.”
She blinks her eyes open. “Um…what am I looking at? I mean, besides your bedroom.”
I step beside her, nodding toward the new chaise lounge. “That.”
Rosie’s gaze sweeps over the curved tufted chair in the corner of the room. It’s teal velvet, the boldest piece in the room, so it sticks out like a sore thumb. If I have my way, there will be more color in here soon enough to offset it though.
“It’s pretty.” Rosie steps forward, trailing her finger over the top edge. “This is what you wanted to show me? A new piece of furniture?”
“Yeah.” I nod. “Because I got it for you.”
Her brows knit together in confusion. “For me? Why?”
Here goes…
I clear my throat. “Well…I figured it’d hold quite a bit of laundry. You know…if you weren’t in the mood to put it away after pulling it out of the dryer?” I rub the back of my neck. “I’d say you’ve got room for at least three or four loads on there, maybe more.”
She stares at the chaise for a moment, then to me, then back at the chair, then back to me. “You bought me a laundry chair?”
“Yeah. I did.”
“Because…” she prompts.
I exhale. “Because I want you to move in with me, Rosie.”
Her eyes widen.
“I know it’s fast,” I continue. “And if you’re not ready, that’s okay.
But we’re together practically every night, and we both have our stuff at each other’s places.
I figured why keep doing the back and forth when I know I want you in my bed every night, and I want to wake up with you every morning? I know change is hard for you, but—”
“Change isn’t that hard for me,” she argues.
“Rosie, you enjoy change about as much as a housecat,” I deadpan. “But this is you and me we’re talking about. Is changing your address really that big of a shake up?”
“Ooh! Can we get a cat?” she asks. “I haven’t had a kitty since Mr. Meowgi moved onto greener pastures.”
I grin, remembering the striped cat she had growing up. That little guy hissed at Ryan all the time, but he adored Rosie and followed her everywhere.
“Rosie, if you move in with me, we can get ten cats for all I care.”
“Well that’s a bit excessive.” She rolls her eyes. “But I’m good with one or two.”
“So…is that a yes?”
She launches herself at me, arms around my neck. “Of course it is. I can’t believe you even thought there was a chance I’d say no.”
I hold her tight, burying my face in her hair. “You have no idea how happy that makes me.”
“I think I have some idea,” she murmurs against my neck. “I mean, you have a really great showerhead. Plus, having your dick on demand isn’t so bad either.”
I lift her off the ground, laughing. “What’s mine is yours, baby.”
She grins, eyes sparkling. “Flying to Tahoe that weekend is the second-best decision I’ve ever made.”
I lift a brow. “What’s the first?”
Rosie smiles. “Taking a chance on us.”
And as I kiss her again, the twinkling Los Angeles skyline serving as our backdrop, I echo the sentiment in my mind.
It may have taken us fifteen years to get here, but with the way everything’s worked out, I wouldn’t have changed a thing.
What matters most is the incredible woman in my arms is right where she belongs.
With me.
Forever.