Chapter 19

“Tonight feels very official,” Brooke said as Logan helped her out of the car in the quiet neighborhood near Embassy Row filled with Federal-style brick homes with painted shutters. She assumed he’d borrowed the car from Knox for the night, since (1) it was a vintage bottle-green Jaguar just right for Sean Connery’s James Bond, which probably cost the moon and the stars, and (2) Logan didn’t even own a car.

“It is official. I learn from my mistakes. You weren’t clear that Screen on the Green was a date. My bad. So I didn’t want there to be any lack of clarity this time. Plus, I wanted you to break out the sexy date perfume.” Logan leaned down to sniff at her neck. And when he caught a whiff of the jasmine and gardenia mix of her Bvlgari perfume, he burrowed even deeper into the crook of her neck with nips of kisses and growls that had her giggling too hard to walk.

“Oh, I appreciate the unmistakably clear heads-up. You called to invite me on this date, with two full days’ notice. You texted to confirm. You handed me a beautiful bouquet of sunflowers when you knocked on my door.”

He led her along a brick wall to black gates topped with a gilded sheaf of wheat. “I noticed you like yellow. They’re cheerful. They seemed to match you.”

His casual observance made Brooke’s heart stutter. There he went, surprising her with his attention to what would make her happy. The gates clanged shut behind them. Brooke twisted around to see a uniformed guard doff his cap and then fade back into the tall bushes. She was still mystified by where they might be.

“Then you capped it off by so thoughtfully giving me the low-heeled-shoes dress code.” She stuck out her foot from beneath her yellow, pink, and green striped maxi and wiggled her toes at him. Since they were walking up a long gravel drive, she appreciated the footwear recommendation. “I feel like you’ve got a typed-out itinerary somewhere. Did Griffin have a hand in this, with all his military regimentation?”

Logan struck his sternum with his fist. With a healthy dose of exaggerated dramatics. “That’s the thanks a guy gets for putting in some effort? You give his roommate the credit?”

Whoops. Brooke didn’t want to hurt his feelings, even accidentally, when he’d clearly gone to so much trouble. “You just seem more like a spontaneous, go-with-the-flow sort of man. Which works just fine for me, by the way. That’s the only reason I’m caught off guard.”

“Like I said, I learn from my mistakes. I made one with our blurred lines between friendship and dating. I made a big-ass one with the podcast. My biggest one, though, was not making you feel as special as you deserve. So yeah, tonight’s—hopefully—special.”

If Logan kept dropping romantic bombs like that, Brooke wouldn’t be able to keep from admitting that she loved him. Which would be stupid. Pointless, as they had no actual shot at a future. Not to mention potentially embarrassing for both of them. Still, she couldn’t wait to tell Katrina everything about this night, down to the tiniest blooming flower. Because Brooke had a feeling it would be one for her own personal record book.

“Apology accepted.” Because, really, it was a head-over-heels romantic gesture. Not only did it get him out of his past transgressions, but likely gave him a cushion for anything boneheaded he did in the next couple of weeks.

If they had that long together.

“Don’t you dare. We’ve got the whole night in front of us. If you forgive me for everything now, I’ll have no choice but to turn around and take you home.” Arm around her waist, Logan half lifted her off the ground until Brooke squealed and pushed at his arm.

“I take it back. You’ve behaved abominably. Now put me down and let’s get on with it.”

“All right, then.”

She looked up at a historic, multigabled mansion. Their path led around the corner of it. “Where are we?”

“Dumbarton Oaks. Well, that’s the name of the house-slash-museum, but we’re here for the gardens. Where we’ll have a much better, much more private picnic.”

They crossed a verdant lawn. Anywhere else, it alone would’ve been the entire garden to go with the mansion. Beyond the walls of the terrace were spectacular views of the city, which surprised Brooke. The District always felt flat—unless you were biking it or on a private hillside like this one. A few steps led them down to another enclosed terrace, a rectangle full of boxwood and ivy, like a classic Italian garden. And, as Logan had promised, they were completely alone.

Gaping, Brooke asked, “How did you do this?”

“I can’t take the credit for anything but the idea.”

“Trust me, you’re getting full credit and props for that.”

“Well, in D.C., it’s all about who you know. Dumbarton Oaks—the research library, pre-Columbian museum, and even the gardens—are all a part of Harvard. Dad’s a totally hooked-up alum. He belongs to the Harvard Club, and God knows which secret society from back in the day. If there’s anyone between the ages of thirty and death in the District who sports the crimson and gold, he knows them. So I got his assistant, Margaret, to drop his name with the Director of the Gardens and here we are.”

Interesting. Brooke looked up at him, so handsome in his peach Cuban-style shirt and khaki shorts. A fresh shave, too, which both impressed her and made her wistful for the titillating rasp of his usually thick evening stubble. “I think that’s the most I’ve heard you mention your father since we’ve seen each other again. I was beginning to wonder if you two’d had a major falling out.”

Logan winced. “Sort of. Another mistake of mine that we’ll get into tonight.”

His sudden openness shocked her. “Will we?”

“Yeah. For a couple of reasons.” Logan paused as they went down more flagstone steps into an enormous rose garden. Ruthlessly formal, the roses were corralled into triangular and rectangular sections by color, ranging from white to pink and red, then transitioning to oranges and yellows. Their heady fragrance enveloped Brooke, and she spun in a slow circle to take it all in. A spiral boxwood at least fifteen feet tall marked the center of this level. Logan took her hand and led her to it, where she could see the garden spreading in all directions.

“You deserve to know what’s fucked up in my life, because you shared your shit with me.”

Okay, it wasn’t the most romantic wording in the world—pure Logan—but the honest emotion behind it touched her. “Thank you. That is how relationships work best. Or work at all, come to think of it. Equal sharing.”

“Well, the other reason is pretty selfish.” He looked down at their joined hands. Lifted them to kiss the hot pink painted tips of her nails, one by one. “You’re easy to talk to, Brooke. Whenever I do, I feel better. Settled. Calmer. Happy. Which confuses me more than ever. So I’m going to tell you all this stuff in the hopes it’ll solve things. Or at least help me figure out what to do.”

“I don’t think that sounds selfish. I’m honored, and more than willing to help.” This was obviously a huge stretch for him. Maybe a new one. Maybe both. As gestures went, it was even better than the private picnic in the fairy-tale garden.

Majestic twin staircases took them down to an oval sunken fountain. Beyond it, purple wisteria canopied over a long arbor. But Logan kept pulling her onward. With the same grim determination of a man marching to the guillotine.

“Would it be too much of a downer if I got it off of my chest right now? So it isn’t hanging over us all evening?”

Brooke squeezed his hand. Loved so much that Logan was finally showing her his vulnerable side. “I’m here. I’m listening to whatever you want to tell me.”

He swiped his palm across his mouth, as if trying to figure out exactly where to start.

Boy, did she ever know that feeling.

Pausing by one of the lead cherubs spitting water in the matching fountains, Logan said, “I love my job. I love saving people. Helping them rebuild their lives, their communities. I feel like it matters. Like I matter. Like my being there can mean the difference between life and death. That probably makes me sound like a pretentious douche bag.”

“No.” How could he think that for even a second? Brooke continued in a rush, eager to allay his concern. “Not at all. It sounds like a fact. It sounds like you’d do anything, go to any lengths, to be sure that nothing is left undone. That no one is left unrescued. That if you and your Foundation go to the trouble to go to a disaster site, you darn well won’t so much as blink until everything is done to fix every broken house, broken road, broken person that can be.”

Maybe her answer was too effusive. But Brooke didn’t really think it was possible to be too effusive about Logan’s amazing dedication. The way he gave up his privileged life here for months at a time, at the drop of a hat, to live in Third World conditions. To risk his life, his health, for strangers. For people on the other side of the world who shouldn’t matter to him—but did.

For a long moment, those golden-brown eyes just drank her in. Then Logan pulled her into a tight hug. “You really do get me. More than anyone besides the ACSs. Thanks.”

That pulled those three little words she didn’t dare utter all the way to the tip of Brooke’s tongue. To keep from saying them, she did a complete one-eighty. Broke the intensity of the moment with a tossed-off “I’m happy to shower you in compliments anytime.” Followed by a friendly pat on the back.

Geez, that was lame.

Happily, Logan followed her lead. And winked as he let her go. “I like your willingness in that department.”

“Once a cheerleader, always a cheerleader.”

“Well, there’s more to the story. See, I have to be on-site to do all that. But when I came home this time, my dad dropped this bombshell that he wants me to stay put. For good.” Logan jerked out of her grasp. Started pacing in between the two fountains and then back again. “He wants me to take over running the Foundation. Not even that he wants me to, not that he asked, or that I get any say. He fucking announced it as some goddamned joke of a promotion.”

“So I guess I don’t have to ask how you feel about that,” she teased.

He sank all the way into a crouch, wrists draped over his knees. “Useless. That’s how I’d feel.”

Which just about broke her heart. Brooke dropped to her knees to put her arm around his wide shoulders. Water fountained behind them in an oxymoronic joyous burble. “Logan Marsh, you are the least useless man I’ve ever met. Don’t start feeling sorry for yourself. That won’t fix anything.”

“Dad wants to ground me, Brooke. No different than when Griff’s commander pulled him out of the sky for two weeks to punish him for being reckless.”

“A promotion isn’t a punishment,” she said cautiously. “Couldn’t you still do good by being in charge of the whole thing?”

“From behind a fucking desk? How am I supposed to save anyone’s life from behind a desk?”

She understood. Logan was the man who needed a spear, a bow, a sword—or the modern equivalent—in his hand, ready to charge off and save the day. He was one hundred percent a selfless hero. Nobody told Lancelot to stop searching for the Grail and just listen to the complaints of his serfs. Nobody ordered Legolas to give up fighting Sauron and just sit around the elf kingdom combing his hair.

It’d be a waste of his considerable talents. A waste of his bravery. Not to mention a waste of his years of experience.

But she’d met Adrian Marsh. He loved his son. He’d poured his life into the Marsh Foundation and its worldwide disaster relief. Brooke couldn’t imagine him pushing for this change without a good reason. And certainly not to punish Logan. She put aside Logan’s frustration and anger and thought about how to make him see the other side of the argument.

“Without someone at the helm, there won’t be a foundation. There won’t be any rescues.” Brooke knew it wasn’t what he wanted to hear. But this had to be a conversation, not just a one-sided rant. “Why don’t you find out more before assuming the worst? Can you discuss it again with your father?”

“That’s a good idea. I’ve been ostriching about this. Ignoring it—even though I know it won’t go away. Not talking to you about it—which also didn’t make it go away.” Logan pushed off the springy grass to stand. “Dad wants me to go to the next Board meeting. I’ve gone to some others. Not many. Just when I couldn’t get out of it. But he wants to announce the transition at this one. It’s soon. Too fucking soon.”

She squinted up at Logan. His face was a shadowy blur with the sinking sun making a too bright halo right behind him. “What happens if you say no?”

“I tried. Well, I tried once and then stormed out. Because the topic of Madison came up. I kind of threw it in his face. The decades-old secret. The lying.”

So he had to figure out how to reconcile the man he’d always idolized with a more real, more imperfect version. While at the same time having his idol ask him to do the impossible, and give up his passion. No wonder this big, brave man was tighter on the inside than a double-knotted shoelace. “Have you talked since?”

“No. Ostriching, remember? What am I supposed to do? Ask Dad why he cheated on Mom twenty-five years ago? Ask if that’s why she’s always treated me with barely concealed disdain? Because maybe she wanted a divorce but stayed with him for my sake? And she resents me for that?”

“It doesn’t sound like you’ve had your head in the sand. Sounds like you’ve given this situation quite a bit of thought.”

“I didn’t want to get into it with him until I’d decided what my reaction should be. Because…he’s my dad. I don’t know how to deal with the reality that his actions disappointed me. That his decades of lying to me can’t be shoved under the rug.” Logan snaked out his arm to pull her into the natural crook of his body. Like they were made to fit together, to be together. Brooke didn’t resist.

“True. But don’t forget that you’ve got Madison. She seems like a pretty great consolation prize.”

“I think so, too.” They crossed over to the next set of moss-lined steps. “Our first official sibling excursion—her words, not mine—is next week. I’m pretty nervous.” Then he shot her a beseeching look. One so full of exaggerated pathos that it made her laugh.

“Tough.” Then Brooke wagged her finger right in front of his face. “You know you can’t take anyone else along this time. You can’t truly get to know your sister through the filter of a group.”

“It was worth a shot. Anyway, I’m not nervous about being with her anymore. Not as much. I’m nervous because we don’t agree on her going to meet Dad. And we left the whole thing hanging out there, like a rotting goose egg.”

“You’re the kind of person who does a lot of damage at an all-you-can-eat buffet, aren’t you?”

“I take them as a personal challenge. I believe a real man can eat carved ham, roast beef, a made-to-order omelet, and still have room for eggs benedict. Why?”

A pipe-playing Pan pointed them down a grassy walkway lined with trees. “You can’t heap all of this onto your plate at once. It’s just too much. You’ve got emotional indigestion just thinking about it. This needs to be a single-serving process.”

“Why do I feel like I’m being handled? Treated like one of your students?”

“Effective methods don’t have an age limit,” she smirked. Because, yeah, he’d caught her red-handed. “Look, tackle one thing at a time. Get to know Madison. Don’t bother bringing up the whole issue of your shared father. Not yet. Just spend time with her. That way you don’t antagonize her right off the bat.”

“Okay.”

“And don’t bring up Madison to your dad. Not yet. She’s been off the conversational menu between you two for a very long time. Keeping it that way for another few months won’t change anything. Your job situation, though, can’t wait. Start there.”

Logan nuzzled into her hair. He always seemed to find solace in the gesture. And Brooke was thrilled to her core every darn time he did it.

“Dad’s always been on my side. I don’t want to disappoint him by saying no.”

“Maybe you should try again. Without the shock and anger fueling your words. Maybe that would help him hear you, instead of just hearing your hurt.”

“Yeah. It sure wasn’t the homecoming I’d planned.”

“This has been a very strange trip home for you, hasn’t it?”

“Considering it started by beating up my best friend? Oh, yeah. But in another way, this trip home has been the best ever.”

“Really?” To her it seemed more like a comedy of errors. Without a laugh track or a guaranteed happy ending.

“Are you fishing? Because I was going to get there all by myself, without the nudge.”

“No. Of course not…Wait, you mean me? I’m the reason?”

Logan swept his arm to indicate the private grotto they’d just entered. It was a miniature amphitheater, wide brick seating alternating with grass. An oval pool was sunk into the center, ringed by ancient-looking Roman columns. And the bamboo thicket that ringed it had been draped with fairy lights. Twin insulated backpacks sat at the edge of the shallow pool. It took her breath away. Logan took her breath away.

“I was given the advice to go big or go home. And I feel most at home these days when I’m with you. So this is my going-big gesture.”

It was big, all right. Big enough to weaken her knees and make her blink super fast to keep tears at bay. Brooke twisted her head, looking for one of his roommates. She assumed they’d helped, like when they’d staked out spots for Screen on the Green. “Where are your cohorts who brought the food and strung the lights?”

“Nowhere. I lugged it in myself an hour ago, as soon as they closed for the day. So dinner isn’t fancy. Just sandwiches and chips, brownies and beer.”

He’d omitted the most important ingredient. “And just you.”

Logan nodded. “And just me.”

“Then it’s perfect,” she murmured as she jumped up to throw her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. Brooke covered his cheek in kisses as he laughed and carried her across the lawn. Their private lawn.

He’d been more than clear about the fact that he couldn’t stay. That he wouldn’t stay with her, or even in the States.

But tonight he’d been equally clear that he cared. A lot. And Brooke would treasure this perfect moment, with her perfect-for-her man.

The future didn’t matter.

For now.