“I don’t know how I got so lucky to have you, Lottie. But know I will never take that gift for granted.”
“Me either,” I whispered. “You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. Ever.”
He enveloped me in his arms, holding me tight. I nestled close, hoping this never changed.
I knew right then, I was in love with Montgomery Logan. Every single side of him, I adored.
And I wanted to keep him.Logan and I spent Saturday together. We lazed around the bedroom in the morning, went ice-skating in the afternoon, and I made dinner. It was simple—spaghetti with a marinara sauce, but it was delicious, and it was nice to have dinner with him in the condo. We watched a movie, then I read for a bit while Logan strummed on his guitar, furiously writing in a notebook as he created a lovely melody that made me hum. I fell asleep listening to him play, and he carried me to bed, only waking when he crawled in beside me hours later. He pulled me back to his chest, kissing my shoulder, and I fell back asleep in the cradle of his arms.
Sunday morning, his phone rang early, and he walked down the hall, talking low and fast. When he came back to the bedroom, he pulled on his jeans, frowning. “Sorry, Lottie, I gotta go.”
I leaned back against the headboard, admiring how his muscles flexed and moved as he dressed. “Other girlfriend demanding your time?” I asked lightly.
He bent over me with a hard kiss. “Yep. The teacher I was supposed to cover for next term had her baby about an hour ago. I’m meeting the principal to go over things.” He chuckled. “And then apparently, going to the hospital to meet with Cindy. She insists she has to talk to me about her class.”
“Wow, that’s dedication.”
He tugged his shirt over his head and sat on the edge of the bed. He rested on his arms, caging me between them. “I’m sorry I have to go—I wanted to spend another day with you.” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Yesterday was one of the nicest days I’ve had in a long time, just being with you.”
“Me too. But I understand.”
“The next little while might be sort of crazy.” He frowned. “Especially this week.” He glanced down at his hands. “I hate the thought of not seeing you every day.”
I cupped his cheek, running my fingers over his beard. “We can text and call.”
He met my eyes, looking upset. “I might not be there at night, playing for you.”
“Logan,” I breathed. “I am not your responsibility. It’s not your job to make sure my day is okay.”
He held my hand against his skin, the heat burning into my palm. “Yes, it is,” he insisted. “Everything about you is my business now, Lottie.” He paused, searching my eyes. “I love you.”
His words exploded in my brain. They settled into my fractured heart, mending and stitching it together. Such simple words—small and overused by many—but directed toward me, by this man, they were significant.
Life-changing.
He smiled at my silence. “I know it’s early, and I don’t expect you to feel the same, Lottie. I just… I just wanted you to know. Maybe it will help some days knowing, no matter what else, I’m close and I’m always thinking about you.” He studied me. “Maybe if you knew someone wanted to be your happiness, it might make the day easier.”
He started to get up, but I stopped him. I couldn’t let him leave not knowing. Thinking he’d given his heart to me and I’d rejected him. Tears pooled in my eyes at the enormity of this moment.
He looked at me, concerned. “What? What is it?”
I sniffed. “Aside from Brianna, no one has said that to me since Josh died.”
He grimaced, but I silenced him with a finger pressed to his lips. “You have no idea what it does to me to hear you say those words, Logan.” I swallowed. “Because I love you too.”
His expression morphed from worried to disbelief, then to happiness. “Say it again.”
“I love you, Montgomery Logan. It’s fast, it’s crazy, but it’s true. I love you.”
He pulled me to him, surrounding me with his warmth. He held me, whispering quiet words of love and adoration. Assuring me we would work it all out. That time didn’t matter—what did was the rightness of us.
It was only his phone going off again that pulled us apart.
“You have to go.”
“I don’t want to. I want to stay and bask in this.”
I gently shoved at him. “We have lots of time to bask. Go do what you have to.”
He backed toward the door, his whiskey eyes focused on me. “I love you.”
I smiled. “I love you, Logan.”
He smiled back, his dimple popping. He laid his hand over his heart, the gesture reminding me of the first night we actually spoke. Even then, I was half in love with him. “Those are the sweetest words I have ever heard. Thank you.”