Devoted to Drew

by Loree Lough

  “Thanks, Maddy. You’re the best. I promise, this is temporary. Already have a Realtor looking for places.”

  “Stop. Please. We’ll enjoy having you. When you’ve unpacked, come on downstairs. I’ll fix you some lunch.”

  That sounded great; he hadn’t eaten a bite since breakfast, yesterday. “I’ll do that.”

  When he’d returned from that last trip to L.A. and learned that the county had condemned his house—along with three of his neighbors’ houses—Logan had to pull a few favors for permission to go inside long enough to grab a few personal items. A family portrait buried under a collapsed wall. One of Poe’s favorite toys. The fishing rod and reel his paternal grandpa had given him.

  Fortunately, he’d always stored important papers in stylish file boxes on the shelves beside his office fireplace. After transferring them to plastic bins, he stowed them in his car trunk, along with his framed Knights jersey and Super Bowl ring. Ironically, he’d been looking into adding coverage to his homeowner’s policy, and it had been on his desk when the storm hit. Now, it lay in a soggy heap at the foot of the stairs. He added it to the stack of antique books that had decorated the mantel and added it to the trunk. All of that would be safe in the car, thanks to darkened windows and an ear-piercing alarm system. For now, at least.

  Logan hung two suits, two white shirts and two ties in the space Maddy had cleared in Drew’s closet. After sliding a pair of sneakers and his dress shoes onto the shelf above, he placed his duffel bag on the bed that would be his and hung his shaving kit on the hook behind the bathroom door, then joined Maddy in the kitchen.

  Poe hadn’t left his side since he’d arrived. “I still can’t believe Bianca suggested this arrangement,” he said, ruffling the dog’s fur.

  “Sometimes,” Maddy said, “just going about your business as if the argument never took place is the best way to resolve things.” She laughed. “One of a handful of things I learned from thirty years of marriage.”

  After wolfing down a sandwich, he squatted near the front door and gave Poe a hearty hug. “I have a couple loose ends to tie up,” he said over the dog’s head. “You have my cell number, right?”

  Maddy nodded. “It’s on the whiteboard beside the kitchen phone.”

  “What time did you say dinner will be ready?”

  “Six. Though these days, Bianca’s schedule has me reheating things for her at seven, eight o’clock, even. If we didn’t have to stick so closely to Drew’s schedule…” She shrugged. “Anyway, he’ll be thrilled to see you when he gets home. You have no idea how much he missed you!”

  It had only been a couple of weeks since the big misunderstanding. If it felt like three times that to him, he could only imagine how much longer it seemed to Drew.

  “I’ll try to be home around five, see if maybe I can help him with homework, or throw a football around the backyard, or whatever. But don’t say anything to him, just in case my meetings run overtime. If that happens, I’ll let you know. Thanks again for lunch. For everything.”

  Had the separation seemed like months to Bianca, too?

  “See you at five, then,” Maddy said.

  Guess that’s when you’ll find out….

  *

  BY THE TIME Bianca got home from the autism fundraiser, Maddy and Drew were in bed. Normally, she wouldn’t have attended. But a flurry of things had prevented them from participating in the Autism Walk back in April, and she couldn’t in good conscience miss this, too.

  She thought about tiptoeing into Drew’s room to kiss him goodnight but decided against it. It wasn’t likely he’d wake up, but exhausted as she was, Bianca didn’t want to risk a tantrum. She’d wait until morning instead and surprise him with his favorite wakeup call: butterfly kisses while she sang the “Good Morning” song.

  Six hours later, Bianca’s alarm buzzed, and for a moment—only a moment—she thought Jason was beside her. She blamed the exasperating painting. After looking into his larger-than-life likeness all these months, the only surprise was that she hadn’t seen him in every dark-haired man’s face.

  All but Logan’s, that is.

  Kismet had led her to the school that day. If she hadn’t overheard the conversation, who knows how much longer she might have cooperated with his farce? Not that all her memories of her time with Logan had been negative. He’d made her admit that, despite three years’ worth of claims to the contrary, she did want a man in her life. If that was in the cards, she was open to it now. More important were the changes he’d brought about in Drew: being called “friend” by a man who was a movie and sports hero all rolled into one had given Drew a new confidence in himself.

  One of her favorite things about Saturday mornings was lolling around in her robe and slippers, reading the paper and sipping coffee from her favorite mug while Drew watched his favorite cartoons.

  Yawning and stretching, she tiptoed down the hall to have a peek at his sweet sleeping face before heading downstairs…

  …and plowed into Logan.

  A myriad of questions—from how he’d got in, to why he was standing in her upstairs hall wearing nothing but a white T-shirt and blue plaid boxers—flashed in her mind. How dare he look so sweet and sexy with his sleep-rumpled hair and sheet wrinkles on his right cheek? And why did he look so happy to see her?

  She grabbed his forearm and led him to the bottom of the stairs, well out of earshot of Drew’s room. And one by one, she fired off the questions:

  “How did you get in here?”

  “Maddy.”

  “When?”

  “Yesterday afternoon.”

  “But…why?”

  “Because Drew called me. Said it was your idea.”

  “Said what was my idea?”

  “Staying here, so Poe wouldn’t miss me. Just until I find a new place.”

  “What’s wrong with your house?”

  “The hurricane took out trees that demolished the entire second floor. And the river overflowed its banks, pretty much destroying everything else.”

  He was looking at her as if she should already know these things. Which made no sense at all. Bianca didn’t know whether to be angry with him, Maddy, Drew or all three of them.

  “Wait.” She rubbed her temples. “Your house was condemned?”

  Nodding, Logan crossed both arms over his chest. “Got home from L.A. and found a big sign tacked to the door. And a letter in my P.O. box. Then I called Griff and, based on what he dug up, there’s not a blessed legal thing I can do about it.”

  “Griff.” She mimicked his posture. “The guy who’s living at Deidre’s because his house is infested with wood eaters.”

  “Wood bores.”

  He grinned but only a little and only for a second. Because based on her expression and body language, Bianca saw no humor in his correction.

  “But, yeah, that’s the same Griff. Strictly between you and me, though, the real reason he’s at Deidre’s is because he lost his shirt in the divorce, not bugs.” Logan shrugged. “Can you believe it? A lawyer marrying a former model without drafting a prenup first?”

  Bianca ignored the prenuptial crack, mostly because she still didn’t understand how Logan had ended up sleeping in Drew’s room.

  She mimicked his stance. “So let me get this straight. Drew and my mother said it was my idea for you to move in here.”

  “Yeah, but only until—”

  “And for you to sleep in Drew’s room.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Until…?”

  “Until I find a more permanent place. Like I told Maddy, I’ve already got an agent hunting for apartments. Eventually, I’d like to rebuild on the same site. I still own the land, so, once I hire a crew to clear it…”

  He followed her into the kitchen.

  “I can’t think straight. It’s too early. And I haven’t had any coffee yet.”

  “Just so you know, I tried to call you after Drew phoned to extend the invitation. But you didn’t answer. And didn’
t return my texts or voice messages. So I figured you still had your mad on.”

  She filled the carafe with water. Well, he had her there, now, didn’t he?

  “And also, just so you know, I didn’t hire Vinnie.”

  Stuffing a filter into the coffeemaker’s basket, Bianca echoed, “Vinnie.”

  “The guy doing all the crazy talk at the school. He was there delivering a bid for insulation. If you hadn’t run off like a scared rabbit, you would have heard me tell him to leave because I don’t work with cheats. Or liars and gossips, either. You would have heard for yourself that I didn’t get close to you so that I could use Drew in some cockeyed ad campaign, or some fool attempt to get my name back in lights. And that crack you made that day, about California? I’ll probably turn down one heck of a deal in Tinseltown because…”

  She met his steady gaze, blink for blink, waiting for him to complete the sentence. Did he look sincere because she wanted him to, or because every word he’d spoken had been the truth?

  “I considered the possibility that I might have overreacted a bit.”

  He groaned, and she read his expression to mean A bit?

  “Even if everything Vinnie said was bogus,” she said, clicking the on switch, “how do you explain the way you’ve been behaving for weeks?”

  Logan shrugged. “How have I been behaving?”

  “Like you’re sorry for getting involved with me. Like you can’t stand to be around me.”

  He lowered his head for a moment, and when he raised it again, Logan said, “Bianca. Honey. Look at me. I’m standing here, whisper-arguing in your kitchen so I won’t wake Drew. In my underclothes. Trying to thank you for the invitation that spared me spending who knows how long in Deidre’s closet-sized spare room, or some bedbug-infested motel. Hoping like hell that you’ll believe me when I say I’ve never cared about a woman the way I care about you.”

  He paused, and in the peculiar silence, she wondered why he’d turned to her instead of his family. She was about to phrase the question when he said, “Whoa. Wait a minute here. I know Drew, and he doesn’t lie. You must have said something to give him the idea it was okay for me to stay.”

  Bianca started to deny it, but memory of a phone conversation with Mrs. Peterson stopped her: Drew, repeatedly asking if Logan could move in; her, exasperated with his repeated interruptions, saying yes.

  Life could sure be weird, Bianca thought. Just when she screwed up the courage to stand up for herself, really stand up for herself, out comes the truth to make her feel small and petty and self-centered. Plus, he’d all but said he loved her.

  So why hadn’t he?

  Logan took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “I should have tried harder to get in touch with you. I’m sorry that I didn’t.”

  “I’m sorry about your house. And for behaving like an insensitive shrew. Of course you can stay. But you don’t have to share Drew’s tiny room. I’ll fix the living room up for you. No one ever uses it. We spend all our time in the kitchen and family room. I could put curtains on the French doors that lead to the foyer, so you’d have some privacy. There’s even a closet in there. It’s not very big, but, as you pointed out, this is temporary.”

  Logan studied her face, as if he expected her to lash out again. “I’ll pay rent. Contribute to the groceries and the chores. I can mow the lawn and collect the trash. And believe it or not, I’m a fair-to-middlin’ cook.”

  Bianca still wasn’t totally convinced of his sincerity, but at least she had her guard up now. Whatever questions remained could be asked—and answered—in the days to come.

  “I hate to be rude,” she said, “but I think we should get dressed before Mom and Drew wake up.”

  It seemed he’d forgotten, for the moment, what he’d worn to bed. He looked down at bare toes and, blushing, met her eyes. “I was on the way to the shower when we met in the hall.”

  He looked confused and hurt as he left the room. Bianca felt the same way.

  She poured herself a mug of coffee, and leaning on the counter, stared out the kitchen window. The October wind whipped through the yard, disturbing the blanket of gold-and-burnt-orange leaves. So many things were changing all around her, things she seemed powerless to avoid or control.

  Drew walked into the kitchen rubbing sleepy eyes. “Where’s Logan?” he asked, hugging her.

  “Taking a shower.” She tousled his hair. “Want some cereal?”

  “No. Logan said he’d make pancakes for breakfast. And you know what? He doesn’t even snore!”

  “Well, that’s good news.”

  Maddy joined them. “So how’d our houseguest sleep?”

  “He looked fine to me,” Bianca said. “We need to have a talk.” She pointed at Drew. “Later.”

  For a mere instant, Maddy looked guilty. She wrapped her arms around Drew and Bianca. “My, aren’t we just the perfect happy little family?”

  Nothing is ever as perfect as it seems, she told herself.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  “IT’S BECAUSE I’m weird, isn’t it?”

  Bianca pulled Drew into a loving hug. “Of course not! Where would you get such an idea?”

  “From Dad. I remember how you two used to fight all the time because of me.”

  She kissed the top of his head. “No, Drew. Logan and I aren’t fighting.”

  “Well, if you aren’t fighting, then it has to be ’cause I’m weird.” He looked her square in the eye. “I’m not stupid. I know what I heard. I couldn’t say the word back then, but I knew what it meant. Dad. Called. Me. Weird.”

  He took a few steps away from her and sat on the arm of his favorite easy chair. Cupping his elbows, Drew rocked back and forth. He used to do it all the time…a signal that he was nervous, or frustrated, or afraid. But he hadn’t rocked in—

  “Logan told me,” Drew said.

  Bianca knelt in front of him and sandwiched his hands between her own. “What, Drew? What did he tell you?”

  “That he loves me. Like a son.” Eyes narrowed, he tacked on, “And he’s not like Dad. He doesn’t lie.”

  If only she could be more certain of that….

  “Aw, Drew, honey,” she said, gathering him close again, “I promise that your dad loved you, just like everyone who meets you. Your father just wasn’t very good at showing his emotions. And he wasn’t very good at expressing himself, either.”

  He leaned back and studied her face. “If it isn’t my fault that Logan moved out, and you guys didn’t fight, then why did he leave? I thought he liked it here!”

  She needed to exercise caution because Drew really wasn’t stupid. He’d recognize a fib, even before she finished telling it.

  “He’s a busy guy. You know that. I’m sure he did love it here. But Logan was used to living in a big beautiful house. It had to be tough, moving into our tiny living room after having all that space.”

  “Yeah. And sharing everything.” Drew nodded. Suddenly, he grinned. “He called himself a control freak once.”

  “Oh?”

  “When I asked what it meant, he said, ‘It’s a person who’s afraid if he lets anybody else do stuff, they’ll mess up.’”

  After a moment of silence, Drew added, “He loves you, you know.”

  The breath caught in her throat, and she swallowed. Hard. “He…he told you that?”

  “Only a couple hundred million times. ‘I love your mom’s sense of humor.’ ‘I love her laugh.’ ‘I love her chocolate chip cookies.’” He rolled his eyes. “And he said if he had a magic wand, he’d wave it over your head to put a spell on you.”

  “A spell? What kind of spell?”

  “I don’t know.” Drew wriggled free of her hug and said, “I’m hungry.”

  “So am I.” She took his hand and, side by side, they walked into the kitchen, where she poked her head into the fridge. “Peanut butter and jelly or grilled cheese?”

  “Ham on rye.”

  Logan’s favorite sandwich…

 
“With mayo, and lettuce, and a tomato, and salt and pepper. But easy on the salt, please.” Hands folded on the table, he sat up straight, looking very proud of himself for getting all the ingredients right, for remembering to say please, for having figured out how to sit still long enough to get it all out.

  “You’re in luck, young man. Just so happens I have all the makings of—”

  “A Logan Special.”

  “A what?”

  “It’s on the menu at the Double D Diner, ’cause when Logan found out Mr. Douglas was almost out of money and might have to close the restaurant, he made a commercial for them for free.” Drew bobbed his head. “Guess I’m pretty lucky having a guy that nice sayin’ he loves me like a son.”

  Was it luck, she wondered, laying sandwich fixings on the counter, or wishful thinking on the part of a boy so desperately yearning for a dad?

  The phone rang, startling her so badly that she nearly sliced her thumb instead of the tomato. Logan Murray, said the caller ID display. Bianca would have let it go to voice mail if Drew hadn’t said, “Can I get it?”

  Say no, and defuse his enthusiasm. Say yes, and end up talking to Logan, like it or not. And now that she suspected his mom may have been right after all, she did not like it. At least not until she’d had time to sort things out in her head…and her heart.

  “Sure. You know what to do.”

  “Wright residence, Andrew speaking.” His face lit up when he realized it was Logan.

  “I’m great….Uh-huh….Watchin’ Mom make me a Logan Special.” He flapped his free hand. “Yeah, okay, hold on….” He stopped flapping long enough to put his fingers over the mouthpiece. “He wants to talk to you.”