Chapter Nine
LOGAN
“Why didn’t Evy come with us?” Anna asked the moment I opened my apartment door, ushering them inside.
It was about the twentieth time she’d asked since we left the hotel.
I followed, juggling their massive suitcase, my own, and several grocery bags. We’d already been to the clinic for the DNA test—my blood, their saliva, results in a week. The grocery stop was a last-minute attempt to buy peace. I figured having snacks on hand immediately would help.
“I already told you,” I said, my patience thinning. “She has to get her things ready because we’re traveling tomorrow.”
“But why is she traveling? She could just stay with us.”
“You’re not staying with me. You’re staying with my mother… your grandmother.”
Aurora, who had been watching my lips intently, flinched at that. She took a quick step back, her eyes wide. Anna signed something to her, and she visibly relaxed.
“What was that about?” I asked, finally closing the door and dropping the bags. “What did you say to her?”
“I said it’s another grandmother. Not our grandmother.”
“Well… she’s your grandmother, too.”
“We don’t want another one.”
“Why not? Grandparents are great.”
“Ours isn’t.”
“Well… you’ll like Grandma Trinity.” I decided to retreat. “I’m taking your suitcase to your room. You can eat whatever you want from these bags and turn on the TV. You… you know how to do that, right?”
“We’re almost six,” Anna said, with all the disdain a five-year-old could muster. “We’re not babies.”
“Right. Of course not.”
They descended on the grocery bags while I hauled the suitcases away. When I returned, they were seated on the rug, mesmerized by a cat documentary, surrounded by a sea of candy wrappers and happily eating chocolate.
“So… do you like the place?” I asked, trying to make conversation.
Anna just shrugged, not looking away from the screen. “It’s too big. Do you have a dog?”
“Why would I have a dog?”
“Mom says we can’t have one because our house is too small. Yours is big.”
“Yeah, well, no dog. My brother has one, though. You’ll meet him. He has a daughter, who’s your cousin… and his wife is pregnant with a boy, so you’ll have another cousin, and…”
I trailed off. They weren’t listening. They were too busy laughing at a cat on TV and stuffing their faces with candy.
I sighed, feeling a profound weariness. This was going to be so much harder than I’d imagined.
The doorbell rang. I answered it to find Michael.
“Glad you’re here. Did you bring Ares?”
“If I brought who?”
“Ares. Your German Shepherd.”
“I have a Siberian Husky, and his name is Apollo.”
“Whatever. Why didn’t you bring him?”
“Why would I bring my dog to your house?”
“Anna apparently likes dogs.”
I stepped aside to let him in. He walked in, his eyes immediately going to the girls. Then he looked back at me, his expression pure judgment.
“What is all this?” he asked.
“Anna and Aurora. The twins.”
“I’m talking about the junk food they’re shoveling down at this hour.”
“I have work to do this morning. I needed something to keep them occupied.”
“And your brilliant idea was to clog their arteries with processed sugar and fat? For a doctor, I expected a little more from your fatherly instincts, Logan.”
Father.
Damn. Why did that word still sound so foreign?
Michael had always been the irresponsible one. I was the responsible son. What parallel universe had we stumbled into where he was the conscientious father, and I was… well, a man who still couldn’t process the word “dad”?
“I haven’t had a second to breathe, Michael. I’m leaving tomorrow. I’ll get everything sorted when I get back.”
“You’re traveling? You’re not taking them?”
“It’s my first site visit to New York Center Hospital. A formal introduction to the board. It’s no place for children. They’ll be staying with Mom.”
“…And is Mom, by any chance, aware of this new childcare arrangement?”
“Not yet. I’ll talk to her today.”
“You haven’t even called her to tell her you’re a father, and now you’re going to announce it the same day you need a babysitter? She’ll be thrilled.”
“I haven’t had time! Damn it, Michael, why does no one understand how important this is to me?”
“Let’s not do this now. I came here because you won’t answer your phone. I want to know what possessed you to tell everyone Evelyn is their mother and that you’re a couple.”
“It was a misunderstanding with no easy fix, so I confirmed it. She agreed to help, and I’m paying her well.”
“Did she agree, or did she have no other choice?”
“You’re really the last person who should be judging me for that, aren’t you?”
“I think I’m the perfect person. Not to judge, but to warn you this is a house of cards. These girls have a real mother, and the truth will come out.”
“By then, I’ll be the CEO of NYCH. Once I’m in the seat and doing my job, it won’t be in the hospital’s interest to fire me.”
“If you say so.” He fell silent for a moment, watching the girls. A smile touched his lips. “They’re beautiful. And they really are identical. Can you tell them apart yet?”
“Anna wears blue. Aurora wears pink.”
“So if they switch colors, you’re lost?”
I wouldn’t be. I knew the differences. “Anna’s the one who’s always scowling. And Aurora doesn’t speak.”
“That’s just them getting used to you.”
“No. It’s because she’s deaf.”
“Profoundly deaf, or does she have some hearing?”
Since when did Michael know there were degrees of hearing loss? I loved my brother, but his areas of expertise had never been… academic. But I had to admit, fatherhood had changed him.
“Almost total,” I replied, recalling the audiogram.
“Could hearing aids help? And even if not, with a good speech therapist, she could learn to speak. If she wants to, of course. Some in the Deaf community choose not to.”
“Since when did you become an expert on this?”
“Books. Documentaries on parenting. You should try them sometime.”
I opened my mouth to retort just as the doorbell rang. We were still standing by the entrance, so I pulled it open.
And a hurricane named Trinity Turner swept in.
“Well, look who’s finally findable! Perhaps my son can now explain how I have two granddaughters I’ve never even heard of.”
“Hi, Mom…” I sighed, running a hand through my hair. This was a conversation I’d been actively avoiding. “So… there they are. Aurora and Anna.”
My mother’s gaze landed on the girls, who had now abandoned the TV to stare at the commotion.
“Look at them, Logan! Where have they been all this time?” I opened my mouth, but she steamrolled ahead.
“How is it possible my grandchildren are so big? Well, everyone knows I was terribly young when I had my boys, and it seems they’ve followed suit. ”
My mother was nearly thirty when Sebastian was born. But no one ever dared contradict Trinity Turner when she was revising her own history, least of all when she’d been a famous film star since her teens—her age was a matter of public record for anyone who cared to look it up.
“Oh, and they look just like you, Logan,” she continued, her voice softening. “They’re beautiful. They have my smile, too.”
The only feature I shared with my mother was my blue eyes, which, coincidentally, was the one trait the girls hadn’t inherited. Theirs were a warm brown. But again, contradicting Trinity was a fool’s errand.
“Are you our other grandmother?” Anna asked, curious.
“Yes, darling, I am,” my mother replied, gliding toward them.
“I’ve seen you on TV.”
“I suppose you have.”
“Cool. Want some chocolate?”
Aurora, who had been watching her sister, gently held out her bag of chocolates to my mother as soon as the question was asked.
The gesture seemed to melt her completely.
“Oh, my darlings, you are just precious!”
My mother dropped to her knees on the rug, pulling both girls into a tight embrace and planting a loud kiss on each of their heads. They squirmed, trying to escape her vice-like grip.
“Your father is completely irresponsible, but don’t you worry, my beauties. You will want for nothing.”
“Mom, don’t call me that,” I retorted. I found the label deeply offensive when applied to me.
“But you are! You haven’t been present in these angels’ lives until now!”
She said it as if it had been a conscious choice.
I drew a breath to argue, but Michael’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen, and his expression shifted. “It’s Sebastian. It must be an update on Bonnie’s surgery.”
The air in the room instantly changed. My mother and I froze, all our attention snapping to him.
He answered, and the look on his face—a flicker of shock, then deep concern—told us everything we needed to know before he even spoke a word. The news was not good.