Tia

 

I can’t wait until Tuesday, but I’ll let him know in a couple of days. I don’t want him to think I’m not taking what he told me seriously, because I am. I wish he didn’t have a past like that, not least because it must have hurt him so much when all that happened. But no matter what, I want him.

A little later, I call Cassie. I need to cancel going clubbing with her tomorrow. We can go to the movies or something, but I don’t feel like going out on the town on one of her usual drinking and dancing manhunts. I’m not sure I ever liked it that much. I hope Cassie is not too disappointed.

But she says she’s happy to change plans. “There were all those creeps the last time we went out. I was ready to call it a day after that, but I was just trying to get you to go out more. So no worries. Besides, I’m going out with Ben again tonight, the guy from work I told you about.”

“Oh, you like him, don’t you?”

“I do. But you,” she says. “You sound besotted.”

“I think I have been for a while. I like everything about Logan.”

“Except his past. Be careful. Is he still hurting?”

“Yes. I think so. But I hope I can make him forget.”

“You know what helping him forget leads to?”

I laugh. “I’m all for that, but I’m meeting his daughter next time. So I think we’ll be remembering his past quite a bit more than forgetting it.”

*

I’m nervous as anything meeting Alice. Should I take her a gift? Would that be trying too hard to make her like me? In the end, I get a little toy dog I hope she’ll like and wrap it up in Christmas paper, given it’s less than a week before the big day. It’s nothing too extravagant. Just something to take. I hope she’ll like it.

Logan lives in a well-kept, two story house on the edge of town. I park and ring the doorbell, clutching onto the gift like a lifeline.

“Hi,” he says when he opens the door and gives me a quick kiss that lingers a little too long to be just a greeting between friends. He’s wearing a light blue sweater and jeans that looks so good on him. And his eyes are smiling. At me. “I’m so pleased you came. Meet the terrible tot.” He looks down at his legs. The little one is clinging to them. He rubs her hair, and she giggles and hides behind his knees and peeks out.

“Hello, Alice, isn’t it? My name’s Tia, and I’m very pleased to meet you.”

She pokes her head out a bit farther.

“I brought you this.”

Her eyes light up at the sight of the gift, and she reaches out to take it.

“You didn’t need to bring anything,” Logan says, but I can tell he’s pleased. “Let’s go through to the living room. It’s along here. Excuse the mess.” He picks up his daughter and carries her along the hall, and I follow.

There are a lot of toys about, but not much more mess than that. The house is painted in warm cream, and he’s used mainly neutral colors. It feels homely but soothing. No hard edge to it at all. We sit on the couch, and he helps Alice rip off the paper. There’s a tenderness about him I love—a gentle giant who I guess not everyone sees.

“Doggy,” she says, and cuddles the toy so hard it’s a wonder the stuffing doesn’t squeeze out.

“Say thank you to Tia,” Logan says.

“Thank you.” She beams at me.

“She just learned to say it properly,” he says, putting her on the couch with her new toy.

“I made spaghetti and meatballs for dinner. I hope you like that. Most of the meals I cook now are child friendly, as in they can be mashed up and spooned in. Though these days Alice’s food is not as mashed up as it used to be. Now it just gets mashed into the floor if she’s not hungry or my culinary skills are not up to scratch. So if you find a drop of spaghetti sauce somewhere I didn’t spot, you know why.”

I laugh. “Spaghetti sounds good.”

*

I love the way he helps Alice with her dinner while eating his own. It’s all I can do to focus on twirling the long strands around my fork and eating it neatly, while he seems to have no trouble at all. And he makes garlic bread to die for, which Alice also wolfs down.

“After every dinner comes bath time. Sometimes I need a shower, too, to get the food out of my hair.” He laughs. “But I seem to have escaped this time. She’s on her best behavior for you. We ran around and played chase. Maybe she didn’t have the energy to toss the meatballs.”

He wipes her face. “Bath and bed for you, little lady.” He lifts her out of the high chair. “Make yourself at home while I get her organized.”

When he goes off, I clear the dishes and put them in the dishwasher. Somehow, a task I hate doing at home feels good here.

“Hey, you don’t have to do that,” he says, when he comes back and catches me cleaning up. “That’s not what I meant by making yourself at home.”