“Why do I have to cook?” Sam whines.
“Because you’re the only one who knows how.” I watch him closely. “Make some lasagna or something.” I put my hands together like in prayer. “Please?”
He huffs and says, “Sure. But you’re going to owe me.”
***
Mr. and Mrs. Madison have a suite at one of the larger hotels in the area. Henry is the one who told me that. How he knew, I have no idea, but that man is sharp as a tack. I stop at the front desk, wringing my hands together as I ask for their room number. I have to get this over with. I have to tell them that Emily won’t be going back to that apartment as long as Trip is there.
The front desk calls their room, and then they write down the room number for me. My knees are steady as the elevator ascends to the highest floor. Of course, they would be on the highest floor. And in a suite.
Mrs. Madison opens the door and lets me. She draws me in for a quick hug. “Is everything all right?” she asks, her eyebrows drawing together.
“Everything is fine,” I say. “Is your husband here? I’d like to talk with him, if it’s not too much trouble.”
She looks at me, her head tilting to the side as she appraises my face. Finally, her mask of indifference slips back over her face. But this woman is anything but indifferent. She points toward an open door.
Mr. Madison sits behind a desk in a room that’s more lavish than any office I’ve ever been in. He looks up and dismisses me immediately when he doesn’t even catch my gaze.
“Logan,” he says. “What brings you here?” He doesn’t look up from his paperwork, but I need to say this anyway.
“Mr. Madison,” I begin. “I need to talk to you.” I point toward the chair. “May I sit down?” He looks up at me over his glasses.
“If you must.” He steeples his hands on his desk. I finally have his attention. Good.
“I wanted to come to you, as one man to another, sir,” I say.
“I believe we’re one man short, son,” he says.
I steel my spine. I really can’t help it if he’s not a man. “Be that as it may, Trip went a little too far with Emily last night.”
He tosses his pen onto the desk, and I watch it flip until it settles. “What are you talking about?”
“Last night, when you dropped Trip and Emily off at her apartment, he tried to kiss her.”
“Just what are you insinuating, Logan?” he asks. “They were engaged, for crying out loud. There’s obviously some chemistry there. It’s bubbling back to the surface.” His gaze is cool. “I know you love her, but let last night prove to you that what they have isn’t dead and gone. It’s still very much alive.”
“Alive?” I ask.
“Yes, alive. He still loves her, and she still cares for him.” He actually looks sorry. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out for you.” He starts to shuffle through his papers again. I’m being dismissed.
“Emily won’t return to the apartment until Trip is moves out.” I scoot forward in my seat until I’m perched on the edge of the chair. “She’s going to live with me. I just wanted to be sure you’re aware.”
He shakes his head. “No, son,” he begins.
“I’m not your son,” I bite out.
“Logan,” he chides, “my daughter will live exactly where I tell her to live.”
“How did that work out for you last year, sir?” I ask. I force myself to relax. “I’m not asking for your permission. I’m telling you how it’s going to be. If you get Trip out of her apartment, she’ll go back there. If you don’t, she’ll live with me. Because I won’t let her go back there again, not while he’s there harassing her.” I narrow my eyes at him. “Do you understand, Mr. Madison?”
His face is turning red now, and his pupils narrow. He’s angry, so angry he can barely take in a breath. “Do you presume to tell me what my daughter will and will not do, Mr. Reed?”
“I don’t presume anything, sir,” I bite out. “I’m just telling you what you need to do if you’d like to have your daughter back in her own apartment.” I get up, adjust my jeans. “Always a pleasure, Mr. Madison.”
I walk toward the door. But that’s when I see my notebook, the one I was carrying at their party yesterday. It’s by Mr. Madison’s elbow.
“I believe this is mine,” I say. I reach for it.
“I beg your pardon,” Mr. Madison says. “This belongs to Trip.” He chuckles and taps his temple. “Smart boy that one. It’s a shame you don’t have any of his talent.” He flips open my notebook and shows me my own drawings. “That boy came up with a way to change my ad campaign. And it’s damn good, if I do say so myself. I’m rather proud of him.” He smiles at me and flips through my drawings, showing them to me one by one.
“When did he give you these?” I ask.
“This morning. He worked on them all night last night.”
Just then, Trip walks in the door. His smile falters when he sees me looking at my own notebook, at the drawings I made, at the plan I came up with. “Mr. Madison was just showing me your drawings,” I say. “I didn’t know you had it in you, Trip.”
“It’s funny what you can do when you have a few hours alone to think, isn’t it?” Trip adjusts his suit coat, looking nervous as hell. “I did it last night when I was waiting up for Emily to come home.” He shoots me a glare. He’s daring me to deny that Emily was with me. I won’t deny anything, and I won’t claim anything. Not today.