Yes. This was what she should do, but taking that step didn’t sit well, either. It just didn’t. The idea of giving up on the love she felt, on the wonderful, joyful possibilities she could still see with Logan, held zero relief. So...what was she to do?
Anna paced the few free feet in the living room, going back and forth and back and forth, trying to find a solution. Trying to find the silver lining. That strand of conviction to hang on to or, she supposed, the absolute, undeniable proof that there wasn’t anything there to hang on to.
So she could form the right decision. It was so imperative not to make a mistake.
Anna stopped pacing. Closed her eyes and breathed. Thought of her childhood, of those many nights she sneaked out of her house and sat under that big, fat tree in their backyard. Of how she would stare at the sky, the stars, and cry and whisper or speak those words of anger. She remembered how lost and alone she’d felt. How all she’d wanted, more than anything else, was for her mother to somehow not be dead. So she would feel safe and happy.
Oh, Lord. No. Her daughter could never feel that fear or loneliness or instability. Never. Scarlett needed to know she was always safe. With her mother’s and her father’s arms around her, holding her up above their heads to reach those stars instead of crying beneath them.
Opening her eyes, pivoting on her heel, Anna raced to her bedroom. Those warring instincts of hers had battled it to the death, and finally, she knew what she had to do. She knew without doubt, without any uncertainty, just as her aunt had predicted she would.
She had to pack. Now.
* * *
The entire drive from Wyoming to Steamboat Springs had, fortunately, gone without issue. There wasn’t any construction or detours, no traffic jams or accidents to delay Logan from getting to Anna and Scarlett. Even so, the miles had passed in excruciating slowness, and he had to fight with himself not to call Anna.
He needed to be in the same room with her and breathing the same air when he told her everything that lived in his heart. As he explained his actions, the reasoning behind them and how he’d been too damn blind to see what was in front of him, inside him, all along. Assuming she’d listen, he wouldn’t hold any of it back. Not only because she deserved to hear the whole truth, but also because he...wanted to let her in. Completely. Into his head and into his heart.
No more secrets and no more silence. No more hiding or pretending and no more shields. His defenses were down, and for Anna, they would remain that way. Forever.
When he pulled into the driveway, his hands were shaking. His legs, too. And he was so relieved to see Anna’s car there that the knotted ball in his stomach dissolved. Instantly. He’d started to believe that by the time he got here, she’d be gone. Oh, he would’ve found her, would’ve still said everything that needed to be said, but...this was better.
This meant she hadn’t decided to throw in the towel.
Logan lunged from the car. Ran to the front porch as if the house itself was on fire and, once he got the darn key to work and managed to unlock the door, all but fell into the living room. And he saw two suitcases, a diaper bag and Anna’s purse lined up in a neat row against the wall. The knot that had just disintegrated re-formed—bigger and stronger and tighter—and plopped into his gut with the force of a roaring bull.
But she hadn’t left yet, had she?
Using that as fuel, he propelled his body to move. Checked the kitchen, didn’t see her there, so he went to the nursery. And the second he saw them, he started breathing.
This woman he so loved and this baby he so yearned for were in his grandmother’s rocking chair, swaying back and forth in gentle, soothing motion. And this picture of them, mother and daughter together, was so lovely, so beautiful, he just stood there and soaked it in.
Every detail. Anna’s guarded expression as their gazes met. Scarlett’s tiny, pale hand pressed against her mother’s soft purple sweater. The way the late afternoon sun lit Anna’s hair, making it appear even more golden than typical. And one pink sock–covered little foot, sticking out from beneath the chenille blanket that covered them both.
Yes. Lovely and beautiful and...everything in the world that Logan required to be happy.
He didn’t speak, not yet, as he couldn’t. Instead, he walked forward until he stood directly in front of Anna and Scarlett, and then his knees buckled. They just gave out on him as if they were made of wet mud instead of sturdy bone, and he dropped to the floor.
Pain at all he’d missed these past two weeks, at all he’d put Anna through, swarmed at him like a bunch of angry hornets. He didn’t resist the pain. Didn’t push it away or ignore the reality of what had occurred. This pain was part of their story and should not, could not, be denied.
“I’m sorry,” he said, bending his head forward. “So damn sorry.”
“You should be. And I’m glad you are.”
He laid his head on Anna’s leg, and while he hadn’t meant to just yet, the words were right there, in his throat and bursting to get out, so he started to talk. There was a lot to say, a lot to explain, and he’d planned on going through every bit of it in a slow, measured fashion. To give Anna the opportunity to ask questions. To give him the space to feel his way through.
It seemed, however, that he’d kept these particular words buried for too long. They wanted out, and they wanted out now. This wasn’t so much about control, because he could have slammed on the brakes as he’d done many a time in the past.
This was about accepting, embracing, that he wanted to share his whole and true self with Anna. This was about safety and trust and the purest, most intimate form of partnership. He couldn’t have felt this way, been this way, with any other person on the face of the earth.
Just Anna. Only Anna.
And so he told her more about his childhood, the blessing of his family and the richness of growing up on Cordero land. He talked about how he’d sensed his mother hadn’t fully disclosed in her stories of Denny, and how he’d carried those gaps of knowledge on his shoulders as a burden. A burden that just kept on growing and growing.
Until it was so large, he could no longer bear the weight. How he’d solved this problem by shoving the sum total of all he didn’t know and all he worried about as far down as he could. In order to pretend the questions didn’t exist, had never existed, and to get on with life.
Learning he had a brother, meeting Gavin and discovering he was going to be a father had unearthed what he thought he’d buried. And piece by piece, his surety and serenity started to crack, letting loose the questions and the doubts and taking up too much space in his brain.
He’d struggled, hard, in attempting to discern the truth. A struggle that intensified the night his granddad almost died and the devastating moment he walked away from Anna, shortly after Scarlett’s birth. The guilt and the fears and...well, everything that had followed since.
Logan did not hide a single detail. He did not try to sugarcoat his resulting behavior, including his tendency to shut people out. He didn’t place blame on anyone or anything or any circumstance. He just gave it to her straight.
At the end, after he’d puked out all the bad, he shared the conversation he’d had with his mother. How his blinders had disappeared, so that he could see what was real, and how that truth had finally given him what he’d needed to be whole: his identity.
Strangely, perhaps, considering the myriad forces at play, Logan did not become emotional. He did not have so much as a millisecond of fear or confusion. Being here with Anna and Scarlett, baring his heart and soul, gave him peace.
But now that he was done, he couldn’t quite bring himself to lift his head, to face Anna, to see if she understood and accepted the man he’d just described. The man he was.
The man he hoped and prayed she could love.
“I’m sorry,” he said again. “You’l
l never know how sorry. And I realize you have every right in the world to take those bags you packed and hightail it out of here and never look back. But sweetheart—” now he raised his head so he could look into her beautiful brown eyes “—I am so much in love with you. I... You captivate me, you see, by the way you laugh and dance, and hell, even your off-key singing. The strength you carry with you.”
Anna’s eyes—those gorgeous eyes—filled with emotion. Of what sort, he couldn’t identify just yet, but he didn’t see anger. He didn’t see pity. Good signs, he hoped.
“Well, yes,” she said. “I did pack my bags. Our conversation gave me a lot to think about. And I appreciate how you’ve shared so much of yourself, but you should know—”
“Please, Anna, don’t leave me.”
“I...I’m not leaving you,” she said, stroking their daughter’s back. “I thought of doing so, long and hard after that awful phone call. I did, Logan. I thought about taking Scarlett to my aunt’s and just being done with this marriage, with you. Because I became scared that you might be more like my father than I thought, and...well, you understand Scarlett deserves better.”
“Scarlett deserves—” here his voice cracked “—a father who will love her, stand by her side. A father who will carry her to bed, tickling and teasing and making her laugh. A father who will wipe her tears and show her the stars and teach her how to...”
“Dream,” they both said at once.
“And Logan,” Anna said, those tears of hers now crawling down her cheeks, “I already decided you were that man. I wasn’t leaving you. I was getting us ready to go to Wyoming, where I planned on fighting tooth and nail to get you to see the same.” She paused, grinned. “I had plans on finally introducing your hardheaded skull to my cast-iron skillet, if need be.”
“You did? Well, now...” Wait. “You were on your way to the ranch?”
“Oh yes, I most certainly was.” Anna kissed Scarlett’s head, trailed her finger over the sleeping baby’s soft cheek. “Because it became apparent that the man who went to such incredible lengths to give his daughter this room, a place to dream, was the real Logan Daugherty. A man who would never treat his daughter as my father treated his.”
“No, Anna, never. I will always—”
“Shh. I’m not done,” she said. “I know the man you are, Logan, and that man is a strong, loyal, stubborn, sometimes cantankerous man. This man is my man, and while I certainly can imagine my life without him, I absolutely don’t want to. So why in heaven’s name would I leave you when I’m so much in love with you?”
A rock lodged in his throat, or maybe his heart had blown up so big that it had floated upward and got stuck. “Anna...you’re sure on this? That you...”
“Love you? Yes, cowboy, I’m sure.”
Thank you, God. “Well, then, since we’re already married, it would be illogical to propose again,” he said crisply, as he was too emotional to find more romantic words. “So instead, I ask you this—will you, Anna Daugherty, do me the honor of not divorcing me in a year, and rather than following a bunch of practical rules, take each day with me as it comes, one after another, for the rest of our lives?”
With that smile he so adored, this woman who had, in fact, brought him to his knees said, “Yes, Logan Daugherty, I do. I will. Beginning this very second.”
Logan leaned forward and kissed this woman he loved, his wife...his Anna, and he did so with every part of his being. With every inch of the man he was. He was hers. She was his. He did not know why God had decided to grace him with such immense fortune, but he would forever be grateful and he would never stop counting his blessings.
When they separated, Anna gently moved Scarlett to her lap. The baby’s eyes fluttered open, and she seemed to look straight at Logan, causing his heart to darn near explode.
“Your daughter is also happy you’re home, Logan,” Anna said, her voice warm and happy. “And Miss Scarlett Valentina, I hope you’re ready to track some miles on this rocker with your daddy, because your mommy needs some rest.”
“Hello there, princess,” he said, kissing her on her perfect, tiny nose. “It’s so good to see you again, and I’m sorry it took me too long to get back here, but I promise you, I’m never going anywhere again. You can count on that.”
And while Logan knew it was just a coincidence, his baby girl cooed and waved her hand in the air as if in greeting, as if saying, “Why, hello again, Daddy! We’re going to have so much fun now that you’re here with us, exactly where you belong.”
Coincidence or not, Logan heartily agreed.
Epilogue
The ranch was brimming with activity, as every member of the Cordero family was in attendance. Gavin and Haley had made the drive to Wyoming yesterday and had brought Anna’s aunt with them. So, all in all, there were twenty-four adults present for this very special occasion.
Scarlett Valentina Cordero’s first birthday.
About nine months ago—a full three months after Logan had got down on his knees and tenderly let Anna into his heart—he asked if she would mind legally changing their surname. Of course she hadn’t minded. It was the right decision, for all of them.
For one, Anna’s husband was a Cordero cowboy through and through, and for another, Zeke’s role in Logan’s life had always been that of a father, despite their actual relation. The change had made sense on logical and emotional levels. And she adored being a Cordero.
Anna smiled and waved at Maisie—the brunette with the braids, by the way—who was sitting on the floor, playing with Scarlett. Her daughter had grown so much in twelve months. It was incredible to believe that this walking, gibbering, demanding almost-a-toddler had once been a baby who loved to sit on Anna’s lap and rock and rock and rock.
Now she did not like to sit for long. On anyone or anything. She wanted to go, go, go, and touch, touch, touch, and taste, taste, taste, and heaven help the person who stood in her way.
Well, except for Zeke. Scarlett had already developed the sweetest, strongest bond with her great-grandfather, and she had solidly wrapped that cantankerous old man right around her teeny-tiny pinkie finger. Most of the time, since Zeke was almost-officially retired, you could find the two of them together. Outside—though he never took her far—and inside, playing with her blocks, looking at books, napping together in Zeke’s big recliner.
Every now and then, he’d get the humidor that was now a jewelry box from her room, and she’d sit on his lap and he’d read the inscription—“For Scarlett, to keep all your doodads in. Love, your great-granddad”—and he’d tell her stories about his father. Oh, she wasn’t old enough to pay attention to the stories, but she seemed mesmerized by the rough timbre of Zeke’s voice.
It was so lovely to see, to be a part of.
Their little family of three had permanently moved to Bur Oak when Scarlett was four months old. Logan had put the decision in Anna’s hands, saying that wherever she wanted to live was fine by him. He’d meant it, too. This man loved her so completely, so wholly, that he had every intention of following through, whatever her choice.
Again, though, moving to the ranch was the right decision. Logan and his cousins had re-created Scarlett’s beautiful nursery here in their new home, so she had her room of whimsy to dream in. And for now, Anna’s days were mostly filled with caring for and chasing Scarlett, but she was considering—with Logan’s prodding—going into business for herself. Not now, not for a while. But when she was ready, owning her own bakery might be nice.
Once or twice a month, depending on the season and how busy things were at the ranch, they visited Steamboat Springs to spend time with Lola and Gavin and Haley. These visits were always enjoyable, but by the end, Anna was ready to return home.
Yes, she was incredibly, unbelievably happy.
Now, on her baby’s first birthday, she searched the
great room, trying to find her husband. It was almost time for Scarlett’s birthday cake, which—naturally—Anna had baked and decorated, and before the official party got under way, she wanted to let him in on a little secret.
Well, a big secret. One that would take another eight months or so to grow.
There he was, leaning against the wall near Zeke’s office, and his eyes were on her, his gaze steady and sure. Anna made her way toward him, trying to decide which words to use to share that he was going to be a daddy again. And she couldn’t help but compare today with that cool October morning when she’d finally found the courage to knock on his door.
So much had changed since then. In huge, gulping bursts.
Her husband talked to her now, about almost everything, and she talked back. He never hid from her, and he always noticed if she needed an ear or a hug or...well, whatever she needed. Oh, he still had the tendency to hunker down somewhere when something was bothering him, but now if she asked what was wrong, he didn’t get grouchy. He simply let her in.
“Hey there, beautiful,” her cowboy said as she reached his side. Creases wrinkled around his eyes as he thoroughly gave her the once-over. “You look pensive. You’re not reconsidering that divorce, are you? Seeing how this was supposed to be the last day of our marriage agreement?”
Laughing, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Not a chance of that happening. Today, tomorrow, fifty years from now. You’re stuck with me, cowboy.”
“Hmm,” he said. “What if I’m reconsidering?”
His tone told her he was teasing, so she laughed again. “I’d say you’re out of luck.”
“Nah. I’d say I’m the luckiest guy standing in this room.” He angled his head so he could see around a throng of his cousins. “How’s our baby girl doing on her very first birthday?”
Harlequin Special Edition October 2015, Box Set 1 of 2 Page 38