“You were so young.”
“The type of cancer I had is most common in young males. Actually, I was on the upper end of the typical age range.”
“I know your family must have been a great source of support for you during that time.”
“Of course. My mom was there every step of the way. Kinley was in college herself, and she got into the habit of studying in my room to keep me company when I was too weak to get up. Bonnie was a senior in high school. She took over most of the housework and cooking so Mom could keep her job and still take care of me. No surprise, Bonnie’s always been happy to cook and clean and do domestic-type things.”
No wonder he and his sisters were so close now—not just because they were the only family they had left, but because they knew how lucky they were to still have each other. “And your dad?” she asked tentatively, knowing she was stepping onto shaky ground. “Was he there for you?”
“Financially, yes,” he said after a hesitation. “He made sure I didn’t lack for anything, that Mom stayed afloat with the bills. I think he pretty much sent us everything he made for a couple of years, holding back just enough to let him eat and have a roof of sorts over his head. He came to see me a couple times. He was living in South America then, so it wasn’t such a long commute. But each time, he said he couldn’t stay long because he thought it was more important to get back to work and provide income than to sit by my bedside.”
He drew a breath and pushed a hand through his hair. “Truth was, he’s the type who doesn’t deal well with illness. During that year, I learned it’s not such an uncommon trait.”
“Your friends?”
“Friends. Fiancée. They were young, active, couldn’t deal with it. A few buddies hung in there with me. Some of them are still goo
d friends today, though we live in different areas. I’ve got some friends here. A couple of guys I met during my summers here when I was growing up, some I’ve met through them and in pickup sports at the park. As you know, I don’t have a lot of spare time to hang out, but I try to meet up with some of them at least once a month or so. None of them know about the cancer, so they don’t treat me any different than they do any of the other guys. I don’t mention it because the reactions are so often weird—people either treat me like I’m possibly contagious, or like some sort of damned hero just because I didn’t die.”
She tucked the word fiancée away to think about later. Actually maybe she’d think about all of this later, after she’d had time to process it. “You’ve made a good life for yourself now.”
“I have. All in all, I’m a lucky guy.”
She glanced at his dog, who was curled on a black-and-white kitchen rug with her cat snoozing on top of him, and she couldn’t help but smile faintly at the sight. “Ninja’s a lucky guy, too, to have wandered into your yard.”
Logan chuckled. He looked greatly relieved that she’d changed the subject so matter-of-factly. “Yeah. Ninja and I have got it good, don’t we, pal?”
Without opening his eyes, the dog thumped his tail on the floor.
Logan wiped his mouth on a paper napkin and drained his coffee. “That was good, Alexis. Thanks.”
Putting all heavy topics behind them, she stood to clear the table, winking at him when she said, “You’re welcome. I know certain activities make you hungry.”
He caught her around the waist before she’d even realized he’d risen from the chair. Spinning her into his arms, he planted a hard kiss on her lips, then raised his head with a wicked grin. “I’m always hungry around you. Just not necessarily for food.”
She laughed, gave him a little nip on his chin, then slipped out of his arms. “You silver-tongued devil, you.”
“Can’t say I’ve been called that before.”
She smiled over her shoulder as she set their plates in the sink. “Maybe I just bring out the glib side of you.”
“Maybe you do.” He looked at the clock and pulled his keys out of his pocket. “I’m going to take off now. I’ve got a meeting with a software client in town late Tuesday afternoon. Should be done by about six. If you’re free that evening, how would you like if I bring a pizza and we stream a movie or something?”
“Tuesday?” She did a quick mental run-through of her upcoming schedule, at the same time surprised that he’d asked. They didn’t usually get together so often and he’d never suggested a quiet movie night. The word domestic hovered uncomfortably in her mind for a moment, but she told herself she was overthinking. As he’d said, he was going to be in town, anyway. It made sense for him to come by for dinner.
“I’m free Tuesday evening,” she said, thinking she’d have time for the paperwork she’d planned to do that evening after he left. Probably he wouldn’t stay too late if he was coming over that early. “Pizza sounds good. Light on the tomato sauce.”
“You got it.” He kissed her, gave her a playful squeeze on the butt, then called his dog and let himself out of the house.
Alexis tightened the sash of her robe, then bent to pick up Fiona, snuggling the warm cat in her arms as she walked into the living room to lock up for the night.
Something had been different tonight. Logan had been different. Even before he’d surprised her by telling her about a part of his life he said few of his friends here even knew about, she’d sensed a slight change in him. The way he’d looked at her when he’d arrived. The way he’d swept her off her feet to carry her to the bedroom. Even the extra tenderness he’d displayed in their lovemaking. Though she couldn’t quite define it, something had changed.
It must have happened during their vacation in Seattle. After all, tonight had been the first time they’d been alone together since.
She supposed it was inevitable that those days and nights together had added a new dimension to their relationship. A new intimacy. They’d each learned things about the other during the trip. For example, she’d heard for the first time about the unscrupulous business partner he’d considered a friend. That betrayal had to have hurt him. Now she knew he’d survived even more blows than she’d realized. His father’s abandonment. Surviving a terrible illness. Losing friends—and a woman he’d thought he loved enough to be engaged to her. Betrayed by his partner. Losing his mother. Losing his beloved great-uncle. No wonder he’d become so prickly. And yet...
She thought of the way he supported his sisters in anything they wanted. Grumbling at times, but always coming through for them. She wouldn’t want to be the man who hurt either of them if their occasionally intimidating brother was around to champion them. She considered his gift of arranging garland and fairy lights to make a bride gasp with delight. His kindness toward animals—the bond he’d formed with a “quirky” stray, his patience with her attention-loving cat. His dry sense of humor. The way he made her feel beautiful and desirable and sexy without flowery words or studiedly amorous gestures.