Catherine shook her head. “There you go again, taking responsibility for things you can’t control. If I didn’t admit it, I didn’t want you to know.”
As she met her sister’s gaze, Kayla motioned for her to continue.
Catherine bit her lip. “It took me a while, but after the first couple of years, I caught on. He wasn’t coming back… and I stopped believing.”
“In more than just Santa Claus,” Kayla said.
Catherine nodded. “And then I met Logan. I knew we were from different worlds. I knew I was just an interesting diversion. And yet…” To her horror, tears filled her eyes and she brushed them away with the back of her hand.
“You believed in him.” Kayla frowned. “He could just be busy with work.”
On call three nights a week and one weekend a month… “It doesn’t take long to call or text.” To find out where to pick her up on Friday. For the date that wasn’t going to happen.
The ring of the doorbell cut off her train of thought. “Expecting company?” she asked her sister.
“Could be Kane’s boss’s wife. I mean, old boss. He retired last year. She stops by every week with… more food,” Kayla said with a groan.
“I’ll get it. Just remember, no one cooks like me.” Catherine forced humor and lightness into her voice as she walked out of the bedroom and headed for the door.
If Catherine was going to stay, she needed to give her sister support and not stress. Neither one of the sisters knew how to turn off their motherly instincts toward the other. They were too deeply ingrained for too many years.
On the other side of the door was a deliveryman and not the captain’s wife as Kayla had predicted.
“Delivery for Catherine Luck.”
She narrowed her eyes. “That’s strange.”
He shrugged. “Are you her? I need a signature.”
Catherine scrawled her name and accepted the small box covered in plain brown paper wrap. Turning the square box over, she found the familiar return address, written in an unfamiliar scrawl.
She’d never seen his handwriting, she realized. How many other things didn’t she know about Logan Montgomery? Too many. And yet the small box that fit into her hand filled those gaps until they didn’t seem to matter.
As she tore into the paper, Catherine hoped with everything in her that it wasn’t an illusion.
* * *
Logan tossed his keys onto the metal desk, kicked aside the garbage can, and unloaded armfuls of folders onto the floor. His desk was piled high with files and paperwork that ought to keep him busy straight through next year. He muttered a curse. Add to that Tuesday night calendar where he represented whatever case came onto the docket and the result had been no time to himself.
Zero time to sleep… or to get in touch with Cat. After the closeness they’d shared, what he had to say couldn’t be summed up in a brief text or a short voicemail, and that was all the time he’d had, considering he’d been handed this case cold on Monday morning.
The burning desire to see her again was all-encompassing. Everything about her appealed to him. Her allure… her uncertainty.
He’d promised to call her “soon.” That was Saturday. He’d dropped her off on Sunday. And here it was Tuesday night. “Son of a bitch.” She was going to writ
e him off and think he’d blown her off.
A firm hand smacked him on the side of the head. “Didn’t I bring you up better than to curse like that?” his grandmother asked.
He stared at the open door she’d barged through without warning. “And don’t manners dictate you knock?”
“Why should I? Door’s open.”
He placed the phone on the desk, rose, and walked around to his grandmother. “Good to see you, Gran. You’re always welcome. You know that.” He kissed her weathered cheek, wondering why she would show up at his office at this hour of the night.
“Of course, I do. But it wouldn’t matter if I wasn’t. We need to talk.” The gleam in her eyes intrigued him as much as it disturbed. She was up to something again.
“How’d you get here?” he asked.