Logan texts me an hour and a half later to tell me that he’s just crossed into the city limits. I give him directions to a little spot called the Green Street Cafe which is, confusingly, not on Green Street but on Lilac Boulevard. It takes a bit of back and forth, but I think Logan finally figures it out. I beg Rori for a ride, and she drops me off while she’s picking up lunch for everyone.

“You going to be okay?” She purses her lips as I grab the door handle.

“I’ll be fine,” I say breezily, even though my gut feels anything but. “Hey, Rori?”

“What?”

I almost ask for her advice. After all, she’s my big sister. Surely, she could tell me what to do. But I suck back the words before they can spill out. Even though she hasn’t been bitchy like Emma has, she probably still thinks I’m an idiot for getting myself into this situation.

“You’re not going to get Dad that burger he asked for, are you?” I say, instead. Before we’d left, Dad had pleaded with Rori to pick him up a smothered bacon burger from his favorite diner. He claimed the scrambled egg whites he’d had for breakfast were not a sufficient source of nourishment for a man of his stature.

“Oh, hell no!” She laughs. “He’s getting a spinach salad. Hold the egg and hold the bacon.”

“So, basically just spinach?”

She considers this, then grins wickedly. “Maybe I’ll ask them to put some tofu on it.”

We both snicker at the thought of Dad eating tofu. He can’t walk past it in the grocery store without calling it ‘tofooey.’ It’s one of his all-time favorite Dad jokes.

“I’m glad you guys are all here,” I say to Rori now, and she squeezes my knee.

“Of course.” Rori hesitates for a minute. “Are you sure you want to come back here full-time? What about New York? What about Lucy?”

Fuck. Lucy. I’m going to have to call her and sort that out as soon as possible. “If it comes to it, I’ll pay her a couple extra months rent.” Logan has been paying me very generously, so I have enough saved to cover it if I have to. But God, I’m going to miss her. And not just because of the never-ending supply of baked goods.

“Okay. Well, if you’re sure about this, we support you. Whatever you want to do.”

“Thanks, Rori. Now, I should probably get going. I think Logan’s already here.” Actually, I know he’s already here, since I saw his car when we pulled in, but I’m trying to sound casual here.

Rori wishes me luck, and I head into the cafe. It’s lunch-ish, so the place is busy, but I spot Logan right away, sitting at a small booth in the back. He’s impossible to miss, really. His broad shoulders are unmistakable, and the light catches his blond hair in a way that looks almost like a halo. How fucking ironic.

His eyes are laser-trained on the door, and he sees me right away, too. He stands, and the way his face lights up cracks something open in my chest.

Be strong, Blake, I tell myself. You know what you have to do.

“How are you doing?” he asks, as soon as I’m near. “And how’s your Dad?”

“He’s doing better, thanks,” I say, ignoring the first question since it has no easy answer. “The doctor says he’ll be able to come home in a couple of days.”

“That’s great. Really, Blake. I’m glad.”

“Thanks. Did you want to get some coffee? They have the best spice cookies in all of Connecticut here.”

“Sure, yeah. Anything you want.” Logan looks nervous, and again, something shifts inside my ribs. I know I have to be strong, but the kind way he’s looking at me right now isn’t making that easy.

We get coffee — well, herbal tea for me — and spice cookies, then return to our seats.

Logan sits across from me, and even though the booth can’t be more than two feet wide, it feels like he’s an ocean away. He still has that hopeful look about him, a look that’s more golden retriever than lion. Somehow, it’s just as sexy as the wild animal look.

For a second, I wonder if I’m completely wrong about this. God, I would love to be wrong.

Finally, he runs his hand through his hair and lets out a nervous breath. “Blake, I’m really glad you called. There’s something I have to tell you.”

Hope runs through me, but I hold up my hand. “Wait. I have something to say, too, and I’d like to go first, if that’s okay.” If I don’t do it right now, I may never get the nerve. I try to crack a smile. “And besides, you went first last time.”

“Right. Of course.” He still looks optimistic, but there’s something much more guarded about it now.

Instead of saying anything, I blow on my tea and then take a sip. Break off a piece of cookie and nibble on it. Logan is still staring at me expectantly. Okay, Blake. No more stalling.

“Logan, I quit.”

He blinks in surprise. “I’m sorry?”

“I quit. My job,” I add, when he still looks confused. “I can’t be your assistant anymore.”

“Oh.” He purses his lips. “Oh. Why? I thought you enjoyed working for me.”

“I do. I did. But I’ve decided to move back to Connecticut. At least for now. My parents are going to need the help while my dad is recovering.”

His expression darkens. “I understand they might need the help, Blake, but you know I’d be perfectly willing to get someone for them. A nurse, perhaps, for your father. And if they need help in the store, I can send down someone from operations. I have excellent people, you know.”

He’s rambling. Trying to grasp control of a situation that feels out of his control. I shake my head.

“It’s not about that. Not entirely, anyway. I just think Connecticut is ... a better place for me to be. For a variety of reasons.”

“Funny, because I think the best place for you to be is with me.”

I hold my breath. If he can say it, I think — if he can tell me that he loves me, maybe that’s a sign that we can bridge this gap together. But he doesn’t say anything else, just stares down into his coffee, at his untouched cookie.

So I force myself to press on. But first, I shove another bite of spice cookie into my mouth — they really are absolutely to die for.

“There’s something else I have to tell you.” My skin starts to tingle. Logan is sitting with his back rigid against the seat. He already looks like he’s bracing for the worst. “I’m pregnant.”

Logan looks like he just got punched in the stomach. His shoulders slump, and he lets out a breath that’s more like a whoosh.

“You’re ... pregnant?”

“About ten weeks now.”

“And it’s ... mine?”

I scowl at him. “Of course, it’s yours.”

“But we used ...”

“Not the first time,” I remind him.

“Fuck. You’re right.” He runs a hand through his hair. His face seems to be processing a thousand emotions a second, each one flitting across his face like flecks in a prism.

“Yeah.” I purse my lips. “So ... I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head absently. “Don’t ... apologize. This is ... great.”

“Are you sure? You don’t exactly sound sure.”

I don’t know why I’m giving him a hard time. I’ve had weeks now to adjust to this new reality, when Logan’s had all of twenty seconds. The least I could do is give him a few minutes. I take a deep breath and force myself to smile.

“Anyway, I want to keep it. I understand this wasn’t in your plans, so I want to make it clear that you can have as much or as little involvement in the baby’s life as you want.”

“Involvement?” He shakes his head, still looking like he hasn’t quite come out of the daze of shock. “Blake, I don’t want to be involved.”

“Okay, then.” My stomach plummets. I expected Logan to struggle with the news, but I didn’t expect him to bow out of it so boldly.

He shakes his head. “No, no. That came out wrong. I mean, I don’t want to be ‘involved’ like some deadbeat dad who shows up for one baseball game every summer. I want to raise the baby with you, Blake. I want to be all in.”

“Oh.” Warmth buzzes through me. Maybe this can actually work. “Okay. Good. I want that, too.”

“We’ll get married,” he announces, as if he’s just decided that we’ll get Thai instead of Indian.

My brain does a record scratch. “Say what?”

He looks at me as if I’m five. “Of course, Blake. We’ll get married. What else would we do?”

“I’m not marrying you, Logan.” Never mind that this is the world’s most unromantic proposal, I don’t like the fact that he’s just assuming this is a done deal.

“Blake, don’t be silly. We’re having a child together. Don’t you want him or her to grow up in a home with two parents? Wait — do you know if it’s a him or a her yet?”

For a second, he looks so positively delighted that I actually smile. “No, not yet. Not until sixteen weeks.” I turn my smile into a frown. “And now back to the subject at hand. I’m not marrying you.”

“Is it because I don’t have a ring? I’ll get you a ring, Blake. You know I have access to the world’s most in-demand pieces, right? I’ll get you the biggest, nicest ring you’ve ever seen. How many carats do you want?”

I throw my hands up into the air. “It’s not about the ring, Logan. I seriously don’t care one way or another about the ring.”

“I can get it here before you know it. Don’t you worry,” he says, as if I haven’t spoken. He’s already pulling his phone out of his jacket pocket. “I’ll have it put on a prop plane. Be here in half an hour.”

“Logan, I don’t want the ring.”

“Forty minutes, tops.”

“You are infuriating. I’m not going to listen to this anymore.”

I stand up, then wrap the rest of my cookie in a napkin and shove it in my purse. Because I might be pissed at Logan right now, but there’s no way I’m going to walk away from a perfectly good cookie. Let’s just be practical here for a second.

“Where are you going?” Logan truly sounds befuddled.

“I’m going home.”

“You should come back to New York with me. We can talk about the marriage thing, but Blake — we need to be in this together.”

I shake my head. “We’re not in this together. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I want us to both be involved, for the baby’s sake, but not together. Do you hear what I’m saying?”

He does. I can tell by the look that crosses over his face. His beautiful face. Shock and sadness and ... loss.

Probably exactly how I looked when he walked out on me at the hospital last night.

“Is this because of what I did last night?” he says. His voice is even, but his jaw ticks, belying his calm demeanor. “Is this because I left you at the hospital?”

“No. Yes. Sort of.”

“Tell me, Blake. Tell me why you won’t marry me.”

“Because you don’t love me,” I burst. People in the cafe turn to stare at us, and I slump back into the booth, if only so that I can hide from their eyes.

“I’m sorry, Logan, but look at this from my perspective. You’re trying to push me into marrying you when you haven’t even said that you love me. You’re just trying to control this situation the way you couldn’t control things with—”

His face turns to ice. “Go on, Blake, say it. The way I couldn’t control things with Laura. When she got sick.”

I feel terrible. More terrible than I think I’ve ever felt in my life. Logan’s face looks so … broken. The same way my heart feels right now. I force myself to nod. “Yes. I’m sorry if that sounds harsh, but it’s true. You don’t love me, Logan. I’m not even sure if you can.”

For a minute, we just stare at each other. I wait for him to tell me that I’m wrong, that of course he loves me, that he wants to be there for me the same way that I want to be there for him. But he’s silent.

Stoically, maddeningly, heartbreakingly silent.

I push myself out of the booth again. If it was just me, maybe I wouldn’t be so quick to walk away. Maybe I’d be more willing to go along for the ride. But it’s not just me anymore. I have a baby to think about. A baby that doesn’t deserve to have to ride the Logan Cartwright seesaw.

So even though I want to turn and throw myself into Logan’s arms, even though I want to let him cover me with kisses, even though I want to ignore the fact that I might never get anything more from him … I don’t. I force myself to be strong. I’m the only one I can count on, when it comes down to it, and I’m the only one my baby’s going to be able to count on, too. It’s time to finally — finally — grow up.

At least that’s what I tell myself as I turn around and walk out of the cafe.

But as I cross through the parking lot, he’s right behind me.

“Blake, wait.”

There’s a note of command in his voice that is so like the first Logan I met. Logan, who was always so firmly in control. Logan, who liked things the way he liked them. Logan the boss. Logan the lion.

I stop. My body tenses as he approaches. Even though I can’t hear him, I can feel him. Can feel his breath on the back of my neck, can feel the very essence of him, hovering just a foot away from me. He almost seems to vibrate.

“Blake.” His voice is a hoarse whisper.

My body is frozen in place. Logan brushes the blonde hairs off my neck, and then I feel his lips there, running across the fine skin of my nape. The tiny hairs stand up on end. Everything in my body seems to stand up on end. I wait for him to do it. To say the three words that could make me stay.

“Don’t do this.”

I choke out a sob. Then I shake my head, and I walk away.