“I still wonder sometimes,” Logan murmured, mostly to himself. “How would my life be different? I drive by a playground, see the little kids, and I wonder…” He allowed his words to drift into nothingness. Sharing emotion of any sort wasn’t an especially easy task for Logan. It made him uncomfortable as hell, in fact.
“You can’t torture yourself for something that’s not your fault,” Derek said. “Believe me. For a long time, I blamed myself for things that weren’t mine to claim. It wasn’t until my second trip to rehab that I realized I’d been blaming myself for everything that went wrong in my life. Don’t do that to yourself, Loge.”
“This whole thing just brought it all back to me.” Logan finally grew tired of stalking the room and sank into a chair flanking the sofa. “She was planning on keeping the baby a secret. Claire, I mean. Tonight she just laid it on me and it was like I was eighteen again, frustrated and helpless.”
“But you’re not there anymore,” Derek pointed out reasonably, taking another bite of pizza. “You aren’t a scared kid trying to make something of himself and Claire isn’t Abigail. This is a totally different situation.”
Yes, damn it, it was. But Logan kept hearing Abigail’s voice echoing inside his mind, telling him he wasn’t ready to be a father. Mingling with Claire’s, telling him he wasn’t human. Goddamn it, was he that much of a failure? That the women in his life preferred no baby or no father when faced with the prospect of him as the father of their child infuriated him.
What the hell was wrong with Claire, anyway? He wasn’t a no-one anymore, a kid on the street whose own parents hadn’t even wanted him. He’d made a name for himself, constructed an empire, made something from nothing. He was Logan Monroe. He was someone.
Except maybe Claire could see through him for the impostor he was. When her blue gaze had settled on him tonight, he’d been unable to shake the sense that Claire had examined him, measured him, and ultimately found him lacking.
“Claire thinks I’ll be a shitty father,” Logan found himself admitting. He reached down and tugged his shirt from his pants. Damn it, he was tired of being tucked and wrinkle free. “She said I don’t know how to care about people.”
“Crazy woman talk,” Derek advised sagely, popping the remainder of his pizza crust into his mouth. “Too much Dr. Phil. Trina used to pull that shit on me too.”
“Did you listen to her?” Logan asked, curious even though he didn’t know quite why.
Derek chased the pizza with a long swig of water, then gave Caesar a lengthy tummy rub before looking back up at Logan. “Honestly, Loge, I made a point of never being sober when she decided we should have ‘talks’.”
“Maybe that was part of your problem,” Logan couldn’t help but notice.
“Probably,” Derek agreed, sounding suddenly morose. “That and my getting wasted and waking up in the wrong bed one too many times. And let’s not forget the boy toy she’s got now. She told me no one stays married to a fuck-up.” He sent Logan a self-mocking half-grin. “See? Things could be much worse. You could be me.”
“It’s looking better from here, trust me.”
Logan’s stomach growled as he watched his friend pull another slice from the open pizza box on the coffee table. He snatched one up before Derek ate the entire thing himself. A bit of pepperoni grease oozed onto his white shirt, but Logan didn’t bother to try to clean the spot. Oddly enough, the idea that he’d just ruined his shirt gave him some sort of perverse satisfaction.
“How would you feel if the woman carrying your baby would rather raise the kid on her own than tell you about it?” Logan asked Derek around a mouthful of pizza.
“I don’t know. Maybe relieved.” He passed a hand over his face. “I’m so fucked up that a kid has to be better off without me.”
“Bullshit,” Logan told him. “You’d be pissed.” He paused. “You’re not so fucked up.”
Derek gave him a look. “You don’t know half the shit I’ve done. But forget about me. You’ll be a terrific father, Loge.”
Logan expelled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Having someone’s vote of confidence, hell, having anyone’s, meant a lot to him. He had to admit to himself that Claire’s lack of confidence in him had made him take a harder look at himself. Damn if he didn’t dislike what he saw, didn’t agree with her in at least some small measure.
“What the hell does a kid who never had parents know about becoming one?” Logan shook his head, still uncertain of the situation. Uncertain of himself. “I mean, sometimes it’s all I can do to take care of Caesar and he’s pretty much self-sufficient.”
Having heard his name, the cat shifted a bit, glanced at Logan through one golden eye, and meowed his agreement. But, being a cat, he refused to move away from the hand rubbing his belly. Loyalty, after all, takes a backseat to comfort in the feline world.
“You know what it’s like to be without a father,” Derek quietly reminded him. “That’s all that matters.”
“You’re right.” Logan allowed himself to relax. The faint stirring of a migraine began to pound inside his brain. He mentally counted to ten, allowing his gaze to drift to the television. A chuckle rose in his throat as Betty White’s perplexed face appeared on the screen. “Christ. You’re watching The Golden Girls?”
His friend’s face turned the slightest bit pink. “It’s funny, Loge. Swear to God.”
“Uh-huh.” A full-fledged grin split Logan’s face. Wait until he told—
“Don’t you dare tell anyone,” Derek said, apparently sensing Logan’s frame of mind. “I’d hate to be forced to kick your ass.”
Logan’s grin grew wider. “I’d hate to have to pretend you have a chance of taking me. Besides, I wouldn’t want you to miss your show.”
“Oh you’re so damn funny.” Derek glared at him, but an answering grin tugged at his lips.
“It’s one of many talents,” Logan assured him.
Now this, he could handle. It was the good old days. Friends bickering good-naturedly. It used to be that way once, before careers, rehab, and now babies.
Logan had a persisting feeling that it would never quite be like that again.
Claire barely managed to clear the elevator doors the next morning before Jamie swooped down on her. She grabbed Claire’s arm with two hands and tugged her toward her office. Her pace proved entirely too fast for Claire this early in the morning.
Not only did Claire’s feet already hurt from her trendy yet torturous heels—thanks to water retainage, no doubt—she was also bleary-eyed and sluggish. She’d crawled out of bed not forty-five minutes ago, and she already needed a nap. Claire didn’t even know if her clothing matched, and she sure as heck wasn’t performing an early-morning sprint to her office.
She stopped, forcing Jamie to stop too. “Jamie, I don’t jog. At this point, I don’t even manage a brisk walk. So could you explain why you’re dragging me across the office?”
“The King’s on the warpath.” Jamie kept her voice to a whisper, her eyes darting around nervously. “And he’s been down here looking for you.”
Claire was nonplussed. “Then why are you taking me to my office? Don’t you think that’s an obvious place for him to find me?”
“I lied and told him you had a meeting with Liz from Creative.” Jamie tugged again. “He won’t be back for another fifteen minutes, at least. You know how much Liz loves to kiss his ass. We need to go to your office to talk.”
“We can’t talk here?” Claire glanced at the cubicles surrounding them. To her right, a man from accounting was studiously typing at his computer, while staring at them from behind thick, hideous glasses.
Jamie stepped into Claire’s line of vision. “That’s Stewart,” she ground out, voice low. “He’s a walking carbon copy. You say it, he tells the King.”
Claire fought the urge to roll her eyes, but lost and gave in. Jamie’s middle name had to be Drama. But despite her tendency toward dramatics, she was a sweet woman.
Not thirty seconds later they were ensconced in Claire’s office, the door safely closed against prying ears.
“So here’s the deal.” Jamie tugged at the hem of her short skirt. “Monroe came looking for you and he looked pissed. More pissed than I’ve ever seen him. He almost waited for you in your office until I told him you’d be more than ten minutes. Men have no patience, you know.”
She tried but failed to wrest her gaze from Jamie’s blindingly lime-green skirt. “Is that crocodile?”
Just the thought of it was oddly repulsive to Claire. It made her feel like gagging.
Jamie touched a hand to the waistline of her flamboyant skirt. “It’s fake croc, less pricey than the real thing. I think it’s pleather, actually, which I’m totally okay with because I don’t believe in hurting animals for fashion. But if Irene from Client Services asks, it’s real and I got it at Nordstrom. God, I hate her.” She frowned. “Don’t you even care that Monroe is on the rampage?”
Claire thought about it for a moment, her gaze caught on the earrings dangling from Jamie’s ears. They were huge. “Isn’t he on a perpetual rampage? I mean, when isn’t the man angry with me? I’ve ceased to care.” She paused. “Are your earrings palm trees?”
“You like them? I got them at a little jewelry boutique—” Jamie glared at Claire. “Stop trying to distract me. What’s going on, Claire? Why is Monroe constantly looking for you?”
“I’m his creative director. You know what it can be like. Besides, this isn’t any different than any other time we’re in the middle of a project.”
“It is and you know it. What’s going on?”
Oh I’m just going to have the man’s baby, that’s all. Nothing unusual here.
“I don’t know.” She pressed her fingertips to her throbbing temples. “All I know is that my feet hurt, I’m tired, my head hurts, and my life is more screwed up than a soap opera heroine’s.”
Jamie gave her a sympathetic look. “Wait here and try to avoid Himself. I’ll run down to the café and grab you an Earl Grey, decaf.”
“You’re a dear.” Claire made her way to her chair, happily sinking into its familiar comfort. “Oh, and Jamie? Make it three packs of sugar this morning, please. I need it.”
When Jamie disappeared, Claire pulled out her laptop and started it up. As she waited for her desktop to appear, she contemplated the fiasco that was currently her life. At least Garrett had agreed to the divorce settlement her lawyer had hammered out. That took a tremendous weight off her shoulders. The last thing on earth she wanted or needed to deal with right now was an ugly court battle where she and Garrett fought over everything down to who would get the ottoman and who would get the sofa.
Now if only things with Logan would work out as nicely. How they were going to cooperate as parents was beyond her. How she was going to manage to keep her hands off him, and that included both sexual advances and strangulation, was an utter mystery. She wanted him and she couldn’t stand him all at the same time.
Damn it.
Claire came back to the present with a jolt, realizing she’d been spacing out, staring at her screensaver. A series of Impressionist paintings flicked by in a steady rhythm. Where was Jamie with that tea?
Her office door opened and she looked up, expecting to be blinded by key-lime croc print and ugly palm trees. Instead, Logan walked into the room. He didn’t bother to exchange pleasantries.
“Why the hell weren’t you answering your phone last night?” He stalked across her office, circling her desk to stop and stare down at her.
“I turned off the ringer,” she told him. “I had enough arguments for one night.”
“You didn’t even answer my texts. I was worried.”
“You didn’t have to be.”
He leaned a hand on her desktop, bending so that they were at eye level. “You were at home the entire time?”
“Yes.” She sighed. “Do you expect me to keep a log book now? Or would you prefer if I call you every time I leave the house?”
“Don’t be a smart ass.” His lip curled into a sneer. “I’m concerned about my baby. The one you were never going to tell me about, remember?”
“Very funny. I’m sort of doing this thing called work at the moment. Remember that? Do you think we could discuss this later?”
“You can’t just keep avoiding me. We need to talk. We’re having a—”
A knock on the office door interrupted Logan’s tirade. Jamie popped her head inside, looking both hesitant and worried. “Am I interrupting?”
“Yes.” Logan angled an intimidating glare her way.
“No.” Claire made eye contact with her assistant and mouthed “meeting.”
“Oh yes.” Jamie smiled. “I’m sorry, but you have a meeting with one of the Creative Teams in five minutes, Claire.”
Claire glanced at her watch, feigning surprise. “I’d almost forgotten. Thank you, Jamie.”
Jamie nodded, cast Claire an apologetic glance and ducked out of the room. So much for her tea. Claire turned back to Logan.
“I’m sorry but we’ll just have to discuss this later.”
Logan’s gaze narrowed. “Which Creative Team? I thought you already had a meeting this morning.”
Claire searched her brain, trying to recall which teams she had concentrating on which projects. “Amy and Leo.”
Logan flashed her a flawless smile that told her he didn’t believe a word she was saying. “I’ll accompany you. If you don’t mind,” he added, calling her bluff.
But Claire wasn’t about to retreat now. “Of course not.” She smiled with a lack of concern and rose from her chair.
Claire ruminated the entire way home that night. Logan hadn’t been able to corner her and get her alone for the rest of the workday. Of course, she’d skipped out half an hour early, just to avoid him in case he decided to come looking for her again. Fortunately, Amy and Leo had taken the impromptu meeting in stride and had been surprisingly well prepared. If Logan suspected Claire had lied to him, he hadn’t approached her about it.
But she knew it wouldn’t last long. Her delaying tactics only held off the inevitable. She would have to sit down with Logan Monroe and accept the fact that he was the father of her child. She could only hope that he would prove her wrong and be an incredible father invested in peaceful co-parenting rather than opting for his standard steamroller effect.
Claire sighed and pulled into Sophie’s driveway, stunned to see her brother-in-law Trevor’s car parked there already. In a blur, she parked and rushed to the house, completely disregarding both her purse and her miserable state of personal affairs.
Her sister was home.
The front door opened before Claire could reach the knob, and Sophie dashed out, grinning like the blissfully in love, just-off-her-honeymoon woman she was.
“Soph.” Claire swept her sister into an ecstatic hug. “I missed you so much. You weren’t due in for another three days. What’s wrong? Nothing happened, did it?”
“No.” Sophie laughed, hugging Claire fiercely. “We just missed home and thought we’d surprise everyone.”
“I’m so glad you’re here.” Claire realized she was gushing, but decided she didn’t care as she pulled back to get a better look at her sister now that their initial hugging frenzy was out of the way. “You look so great, Soph.” Sophie’s dark hair was pulled from her face, with a few stray tendrils curling against her radiant cheeks. She truly looked beautiful and happier than Claire had ever seen her. Claire’s gaze moved to the obvious belly visible beneath the pink strapless dress Sophie wore. “And huge.”
Coincidentally, Claire and Sophie nearly shared due dates, but Sophie’s tummy had grown considerably more than Claire’s in her absence.
Sophie giggled. “Blame it on Trevor and the French pastries he made me eat.”
“Speaking of Trevor, where is he?” She’d been so excited to see her sister that Claire had near
ly forgotten about her brother-in-law.
“Right here,” came his dry response.
Claire looked up to find him right behind Sophie. She extricated herself from Sophie’s hug and moved to embrace the forgotten Trevor.
“Sorry,” she told him. “I didn’t see you.”
“I know, I know, it’s a sister thing,” he said, giving her a squeeze. “How are you doing, Claire?”
She stepped away with a smile. “Fine,” she lied, not wanting to depress them with the sad story that was her life. They were still all happy, starry-eyed, and glowing with Paris joie de vivre.
“So.” She put her arm around Sophie. “Why don’t we go inside and you guys can tell me all about your trip. I can’t wait to see pictures.”
“They’re on Trevor’s laptop,” Sophie said, allowing Claire to lead her back inside.
“Your sister wore out the camera,” Trevor said with a grin. “I thought we’d have to get it surgically removed from her hands.”
Sophie laughed lightly and put her arm around her new husband’s waist. “You never should have taught me how to use it.”
Claire felt a smile tugging at her lips anew. It felt so good to see her sister so happy after so long. When Sophie had lost her first husband and daughter in a tragic car accident, she’d been devastated. For over two years, she retreated within herself to a place of misery and despair, but miraculously, Trevor had appeared in her life. He’d given Sophie the chance to heal and find herself again. Now the two were desperately in love and Sophie was realizing her dream of becoming a successful artist. Things had truly turned around for both of them.
If only Claire could be the recipient of as much fortune. Her smile sagged a bit at the thought.
“So, show me the pictures,” she demanded in her best older-sister, authoritative voice. She desperately needed distraction from her own bleak mood.
Sophie winced a bit and exchanged a meaningful glance with Trevor.
“What?” Claire looked from one to the other, having the suspicion she wouldn’t like the answer.
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