Stella was so wiped out that they didn’t even manage to make it to the end of the first block in the car before she’d fallen asleep. She collapsed into the back seat of the limo, her head on his shoulder as she softly snored. Logan rode the whole way to her apartment with a dopey grin on his face.

When the limo pulled up out front, she was still out like a light. Logan didn’t want to wake her, but he had no idea which apartment was hers. He considered looking for her keys, but he’d seen her key ring before. She carried so many he’d often teased her that she looked like a janitor; chances of him being able to figure out which key belonged to her door in a reasonable amount of time were slim.

He was just going to have to do it.

“Stella,” he whispered, tenderly brushing a strand of hair off her face as she let out a hitched little snore. It was so cute, he couldn’t help but smile.

“No more ducks,” she mumbled. He kept himself from laughing, and he was definitely going to file this away for examination at a later date. He needed to know what in the hell she was dreaming about.

“Stella,” he repeated, just a little louder.

Her lids barely lifted, but she smiled when she saw him. “Logan. So glad you’re here,” she slurred. “You should stay. All night. With me.”

Even though there was little chance she actually knew what she was saying, the fact that she was so relaxed and comfortable and saying it at all after the conversation they’d just had made Logan happy.

“Where are your keys?”

“Mmmmmmmmmmmy pocket,” she replied, sluggishly raising one shoulder. He guessed that was the side her key-having pocket was on.

He carefully reached inside, and sure enough his fingers latched on to her keyring. The second he pulled it out, she went back to snoring.

Logan let out a little laugh, then woke her up one more time. “Which keys do I need?” She blearily opened her eyes and tugged two out of the set. “And what’s your apartment number?” He probably could’ve gotten it if he’d really wanted to, but it was faster just to ask her.

“Six D,” she mumbled.

Logan told his driver he wasn’t sure how long he would be, and told him he’d text him when he was ready to leave. His driver nodded, and got out and opened the door while Logan carefully lifted Stella out of her seat.

She was light and warm against his chest, and when he cradled her closer to keep her from the winter chill in the air, she snuggled against his body, and nestled her forehead against his neck.

“I’ve got you,” he said.

He somehow managed to get into the building’s front door, and the secured door inside without jostling her too much and waking her up. Getting into the elevator was a close call. It was tiny, and barely designed for two people standing together, much less one being carried.

He fumbled with the locks on her apartment door, but finally made it inside. There was a small lamp on a table in the main room that cast a dim, warm glow across the room, and Logan figured Stella left it on while she was gone so she didn’t come home to complete darkness. He smiled at the small, cozy, lived-in space. It looked like a home and smelled of cinnamon. It was organized and practical with a few sentimental touches like personal pics and keepsakes on display.

He took a few steps forward on a mission to get her into the bedroom when he misjudged and accidentally knocked into a table, sending something small and made out of glass tumbling onto the floor. He cringed as it hit, and thankfully didn’t break, watching Stella’s face to see if she stirred.

Luckily, she did not.

There was only a bathroom and one other room in the apartment, so he headed to her bedroom, flipping on the light switch with his elbow as he entered. He put her down on the bed, then gently woke her up and asked her if she could sit so he could help her with her coat.

Once that was removed, he asked her if she could stand up for a few seconds.

“What are we doing?” she asked grumpily, her eyes still closed.

Logan huffed out a laugh. “I need you to stand up so I can pull down your sheets.”

She groused and stood up, resting her forehead on his shoulder as he peeled her sheets down far enough for her to climb back into the bed. They were Christmas-themed, with little trees and snowflakes all over them that made Logan smile.

She mumbled a little more as he got her settled into the bed, and he tucked the comforter up around her neck as she snuggled into her pillow. He pushed her hair off her forehead, brushing his thumb across the arch of her brow.

She looked peaceful, and he was glad she was finally going to get some rest.

When he turned to walk out of the room, Stella caught his hand. “Stay,” she said.

She was half asleep and probably had no idea what she was asking, so he wasn’t about to take advantage of that.

“Maybe some other time,” he replied gently. “When you’re not so exhausted.”

“I want you to stay. Please.” Her voice was strong and clear, and she sounded more awake then than she had at any other point since they’d left the office. “Please, Logan. Stay.”

She was so sleepy and gorgeous that he couldn’t possibly say no. The only problem was, “I don’t have anything to sleep in.”

She pointed at the dresser on the other side of the room. “There are some t-shirts and sweats in the bottom drawer.”

Like she could sense his hesitation about whose clothes those were, she added, “Ex. Too comfy to donate.”

He didn’t like it, but he would wear them if it meant he could stay like she asked him to. The thought of spending the rest of the night in a tux was even more unappealing than wearing some clothes that belonged to an ex-boyfriend of hers.

“Okay,” he told her, opening the drawer and picking out a shirt and bottoms. He turned around and looked at Stella, who promptly nodded and then fell back against the pillow. She was softly snoring again.

It was painfully cute.

He wondered if she always dropped off so quickly. It was something he was very much looking forward to learning about her.

After Logan had changed and hung his tux up as best he could, he wandered out to the kitchen, looking for something to drink. He wasn’t tired. His conversation with Stella was still rolling around in his mind.

She thought he’d been flirting with her to keep her around. She had no idea how real and deep his feelings for her ran. He was going to keep telling her, of course, but he needed to figure out a way to show her.

Logan opened her door and looked inside her fridge, which was bare apart from a few bottles of water and a whole bunch of condiments. He took a water and closed the door, twisting off the cap as he looked at all the little notes and things Stella had hanging up on the outside of it.

There were a few stubs for Mets games, all stuck together. A pic of her and some friends he didn’t recognize, a couple of takeout menus, and some notes to herself. All the items in a similar group were clustered together, which reminded Logan of the neat row of perfume bottles he’d seen on an elegant mirrored tray on the back of Stella’s toilet while he’d been changing. Everything was neat and organized, just like Stella.

Meandering into the living room as he took in the decorations in Stella’s home, Logan took in the couch situation, unclear on whether Stella wanted him to stay in her apartment or stay in her bed.

He knew which one he would prefer.

Logan sat down and relaxed back into the cushions. The sofa was comfortable; Stella’s apartment looked lived in, like the kind of place where you’d be welcome to put your feet up on the coffee table. The more time Logan spent there, the more he found that he liked it.

He maybe even preferred it to the cold, interior-designed space he had of his own. He hoped he’d be spending more time here soon. Or, maybe having Stella around would make his house feel more like a home.

He sighed at that thought, taking a sip of his water, then resting his head against the wall. He recalled the conversation they’d had earlier in the evening. It hurt to hear her say that she thought he’d only flirted with her to keep her around, but he could understand why she thought that. He was a jackass to her to create a wall, then kept her at a distance sometimes, but he’d inevitably destroy that wall and reveal more than he should’ve because no matter how hard he tried, he could never resist her.

He understood how that did some damage to her belief in his feelings for her before their relationship was even a possibility, and he had his work cut out for him to make it right.

He was going to have to tell his mother, because he refused to let her meddle in his love life anymore, and certainly didn’t want to have another situation like he did with Astrid tonight—with her or anyone else his mother might have designs on later. After seeing Stella’s reaction to those pictures, he never wanted to make her feel like that again. He had his work cut out for him.

He was up for and looking forward to the challenge.

On the end table next to him was a framed photo of Stella and her sisters at a Dodgers game from one of the trips she’d taken back home for a visit. The three of them were smiling, and Stella’s face was smeared with mustard. Her sister, Sofia, was holding a hot dog smeared with the stuff in the general vicinity of Stella’s face, and he could only imagine that she’d gone in for a bite only to have Sofia smash it against her lips.

Logan smiled.

He’d already felt terrible about the lost work on their project, and knowing that she was willingly spending time away from these women whom she loved so much made his chest ache.

He wanted to make it right. He needed to do something that respected her decision to stay here and finish what she was working on, but proved that the things that were special to her were special to him, too.

He stared at the picture a few more moments, and then it hit him.

He knew exactly what he needed to do.

With a glance at the clock, he second-guessed himself. It was late, but not rudely so. He didn’t want to wait; he wanted to get this settled and set into motion.

Logan pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts, and hit call when he found the name he was looking for.

He waited for an answer, and a second later, he got one.

“Hey,” he said. “I need a favor.”