Chapter 2
POV: Suzy
I blinked. “Are you asking as a concerned father or a curious man?”
He cleared his throat. “Just making conversation.”
Sure.
“Mmhmm.” I smirked. “I’ll let you wonder about that.”
His jaw twitched. I counted that as my second win of the day.
From the next room, the girls squealed with laughter again. “Best day ever!” Izzy shouted.
Logan looked toward the door.
And I looked at him.
There was something in his face then—an ache, maybe. A flicker of pride. And something else I couldn’t quite name but could feel.
And maybe he felt me watching, because his gaze came back to mine.
This time, he didn’t look away.
Neither did I.
My heart was already thudding from the proximity, but now it wanted to leap out of my ribs.
For a second—two, maybe three—we were just still. Quiet.
Not awkward quiet. Not hostile either. Just… aware. Two people orbiting the same strange little universe built of daughters, glitter, and one unexpectedly shared pizza.
His green eyes dropped to my mouth.
Oh my God.
I saw it. The fractional lean. The unspoken want.
Then he blinked. Like he remembered who he was supposed to be—closed off, untouchable.
I leaned back, reaching for the last slice.
His jaw flexed. He didn’t say anything. But something in the air shifted—like I’d found a crack in his armor.
From the next room, Lily called, “Aunt Suzy! We’re painting our nails! Want pink or sparkly pink?”
Logan gave me a dry look.
I stood, brushing crumbs off my leggings. “And that’s my cue.”
I turned to the door, then looked back at him. “Don’t worry, Doctor Doom. I’ll keep it quiet.”
He shook his head, but a ghost of a smile touched his lips. “Good luck with the glitter.”
“Glitter,” I said, walking out, “is forever. Just like regret.”
I didn’t look back.
But I felt his eyes on me.
And I didn’t hate it.
The next morning started with Lily bouncing around the hotel room like she hadn’t spent half of yesterday flipping through the air like a caffeinated squirrel.
Meanwhile, I was brushing out the frizz in my ponytail and seriously considering using concealer as war paint.
“How are you this awake?” I asked, watching her double-check her backpack for the third time with laser focus.
“I slept great,” she said, beaming. “And it’s selections day.”
“Right. The big one. Whoever passes today goes to the semifinals, right?”
I winced, stretching my spine. “My body disagrees, but I’m here for you, kiddo.”
Once she was ready—and I had achieved something vaguely resembling a human face—we headed down to the hotel’s breakfast buffet.
And I hated how I kept checking the doors.
Looking for him.
It was like gravity had reset overnight. My pulse already drumming, stupidly eager.
Get a grip, Suzy.
The hotel breakfast was fine. Nothing glamorous—just scrambled eggs, toast, and fruit slices that looked like someone had carved them with deep-seated resentment.
We found a table near the window, and Lily immediately began buttering her toast like she was preparing it for battle.
Then a voice rang out from across the room.
“Izzy!”
Lily waved like a windmill. “Over here!”
Izzy jogged over, braid swinging behind her, and slid into the seat beside Lily without missing a beat.
And then he appeared.
Logan.
Even at eight a.m., he looked like the human embodiment of control—crisp, tall, slightly too composed. Sleep dared not touch his posture or ruffle his perfectly pressed shirt.
His eyes landed on me—and for a second, just a flicker, he hesitated—before taking the open seat directly across from mine.
“Good morning,” I said, trying not to stare at his mouth.
“Morning,” he replied, adding a spoonful of oatmeal to his plate with surgical precision.
“Did you sleep well?” I asked, sipping my coffee like it wasn’t suddenly hot lava in my mouth.
“Yes.” A pause. Then, “You?”
“Oh, I slept like a brick. Though Lily talks in her sleep about backflips, so that was a fun little midnight heart attack.”
That earned me the tiniest smirk. A blink-and-you’ll-miss-it curve of lips. But it was real.
And my chest might’ve fluttered.
Screw it—it definitely did.
The girls chattered between bites, comparing routines and whispering secrets like the world depended on it. I couldn’t help noticing how Logan kept glancing at Izzy—watchful, quietly alert, like his mind was tuned to her frequency even in stillness.
“You two must do this a lot,” I said softly. “Traveling. Competitions.”
He nodded. “Most weekends. During season.”
“That’s… intense. And honestly? Impressive. Raising a girl is no small thing.”
He looked at me then. Really looked. And the intensity of it knocked the air from my lungs.
“You’re doing a good job with Lily,” he said. “Not everyone would take this on.”
My face warmed. “She’s worth it. And it’s good for Barbara and Daniel to have their time. I’m just the enthusiastic aunt.”
He didn’t respond right away. But something shifted in his expression. Like approval. Or maybe amusement. Or both.
“You know I’m a doctor,” he said finally. “But I never asked—what do you do for a living, Suzanne?”
The way he said my name—Suzanne—felt like warm butter sliding over toast.
God help me.
“So… you are interested in my job?” I raised a brow, teasing. He hesitated. I laughed. “Kidding. I’m an architect. I work for a big construction company—mostly interior design and decoration, planning out internal structures, that kind of thing.”
He took a sip of coffee, eyes narrowing like he was genuinely intrigued. “So you’re a creative.”
The way he said it—low, thoughtful—made heat bloom low in my belly. His green eyes locked on mine like he was trying to figure out how I was built from the inside.
And then, softly, “You’re staying the week. If Lily makes it to finals—and based on yesterday, she will—your company’s okay with that?”
Dr. Logan Kaiser is interested in my life.
What the hell.
“I’ve worked nonstop the past four years,” I said. “My boss practically begged me to take a break.”
He tilted his head. “Creative and a workaholic?”
There was that smirk again. God, that smirk. I wanted to bite it.
My cheeks flushed. I was not supposed to be this easy.
Even me—the sunshine aunt with the breezy comebacks—was struggling not to melt.
“Aunt Suzy, finish your toast,” Lily cut in, voice urgent. “We need to go.”
And just like that, I could breathe again.
The competition venue was even busier than the day before. More spectators. More glitter. More tension suspended in the air like static.
Logan stood at my side by the bleachers, a solid presence I was—somehow—getting used to. No small talk, no awkwardness. Just a comfortable silence between us as we watched our girls.
Lily had everything she needed.
At least, I thought she did—until halfway through the morning when I noticed her water bottle was missing.
“She left it by the warm-up mats,” she realized, eyes widening.
“I’ll grab it,” I said, already on my feet before she could stop me.
It should’ve been simple. A quick dash. Grab the bottle. Return to the stands.
But fate, poor coordination, and my favorite pair of heeled sandals had other plans.
I reached over the edge of the bleachers, snagged the bottle—
—and stepped down directly into a sticky puddle of what smelled like fruit punch and regret.
My foot slipped, my ankle twisted sharply sideways, and I felt the horrifying pop before the pain truly registered.
A white-hot bolt shot up my leg.
“Oh my God,” I gasped, grabbing the rail, but it was too late. My knees buckled.
“Careful!” someone shouted.
And then—strong hands caught me.
I blinked through the haze of pain to find myself pressed against a solid chest.
Logan.