Chapter 2

Three days after the funeral, Brandon drove Logan and me to the train station.

At the station, Logan went to grab our bags from the trunk. Brandon looked at me deeply and said, "Take care of yourself."

When Logan walked over, Brandon patted his shoulder. "Call me when you get home."

The brothers shared a quick hug before we parted.

After an eight-hour train ride, we finally arrived back at our apartment in New York.

Logan slumped onto the couch. "Even though I grew up in Ridgeville, I guess I've gotten too used to city life. It's good to be home."

Ridgeville was his hometown, a small mountain town hundreds of miles away from New York City.

Back in the city, it was as if nothing had ever happened. Our routine went right back to normal.

Logan and I worked during the day. At night, whoever got home first cooked dinner, and the other washed the dishes. We were perfectly in sync.

When the mood struck, we had our usual intimacy—two or three times a week, regular and healthy.

Logan was always gentle, always paying close attention to my needs.

But I couldn't stop thinking about how desperate he had sounded in that dark utility room with Fiona. And I couldn't forget Brandon's fierce, almost wild touch that night.

A few weeks later, I woke up feeling extremely nauseous. On my way home from work, I stopped by a pharmacy.

When I got home, Logan wasn't back yet.

I went into the bathroom. Five minutes later, I saw two clear pink lines.

When Logan walked through the door, I was sitting on the couch, staring into space.

"Hey, what's wrong? Are you feeling okay?" He pressed his hand against my forehead, concerned.

"Logan, I..."

The words caught in my throat.

He didn't rush me. He just waited patiently, warm and attentive.

I forced a perfect smile. "I'm pregnant."

I handed him the test.

"Oh my god!" he gasped, his face lighting up. "I'm going to be a dad! This is amazing!"

He immediately kissed me. "Are you feeling okay? Are you hungry? Let me make dinner right now."

While he was cooking, I could hear him humming a cheerful tune in the kitchen. His joy was palpable.

The next day, we both took time off work to go to the clinic.

The doctor smiled and congratulated us. "You're definitely pregnant. About eight weeks along. The baby is developing perfectly. Just make sure to come in for regular prenatal visits."

Logan kept asking questions about what to do and what to avoid, to the point where the doctor looked amused.

"Sorry, Doc," Logan apologized with a sheepish grin. "It's my first time being a dad. I'm just really excited."

Then he leaned in to ask yet another question.

I gently stroked my still-flat belly, my mind drifting. Eight weeks. When exactly had I conceived?

Was it during my birthday dinner right after we got back to the city?

Or... was it that night in Ridgeville?

After finding out about the pregnancy, Logan became even more doting.

He came home straight after work. If he had extra tasks, he brought his laptop home to work beside me.

Aside from cooking dinner, he started waking up an hour early every morning to prepare breakfast for me.

I thought his enthusiasm would fade after a few weeks, but he kept it up for the entire pregnancy.

He also insisted on rubbing cocoa butter on my belly and massaging my swollen legs every night.

One evening, he made my favorite shrimp dish. He peeled every single one and placed them in my bowl, barely eating any himself.

After dinner, he served a bowl of fresh fruit and yogurt.

"Hey, babe," he said in a pleading tone. "My company needs me to go on a business trip. I tried to get out of it, but I really can't."

"Work is important," I smiled. "Besides, I'm not a baby. I can handle a few days alone."

"Thank you, babe. You're the best." He hugged me tightly. "Don't worry, I'll get back as fast as I can."

The trip was for a week. Before leaving, he prepped meals for the next few days and cleaned the entire apartment top to bottom.

"Don't worry about a thing," he told me as he kissed my forehead. "I'll clean up whatever's left when I get back. I'll FaceTime you every day."

He kept his word. Every night at 8:00 PM, his face popped up on my screen.

On the last night of his trip, he looked a bit nostalgic. "I'm actually quite close to Ridgeville right now. It's only about an hour's drive. I think I'm going to head back there tonight."

He sighed softly. "I want to visit my dad's grave and tell him the good news. He's going to be a grandfather."

"Okay," I nodded. "Give my best to Brandon and Fiona."

Logan poured out a few more sweet, caring words before reluctantly hanging up.

But the next night at 8:00 PM, my phone didn't ring.