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He nods. “Yeah, that’d be great. I’d love to be there. Well, if you’re okay with it.”
“I’m okay with it,” I confirm.
“Okay.”
“Yeah, okay,” I parrot unnecessarily.
He walks toward my Cherokee, and the moment I click the fob to unlock the door, he has it open for me. I climb inside, placing my purse on the passenger seat and secure my seat belt. “Drive safely,” he says, stepping back so I can close the door.
It feels like more should be said, but I have no clue what it is. Instead, I give him a small smile and close the door. Logan steps back but stands on the sidewalk while I start my Jeep and carefully pull out of my parking spot and head for home. A quick glance in my rearview mirror confirms he’s still standing there, hands in the front pockets of his jeans, watching me drive away.
Warmth spreads through my veins as I head home, the memory of his kindness and the intensity in his dark eyes with me every step of the way.
Here we go again.
I’m curled around the toilet, having just thrown up everything I consumed at dinner tonight. The wave of nausea has finally passed, and my stomach slowly starts to settle once more. I’m flushed and exhausted, covered in a nasty sheen of sweat, and with a gross taste in my mouth that makes me want to gag all over again.
After several minutes, I finally climb off the floor and move to the sink to brush my teeth and wash my face. I’m pale, a ghostly shade of gray that does not complement my blue eyes, so I ignore the mirror and keep my gaze down. I should run through the shower, but I just don’t have the energy right now.
This is going to be a very long nine months, if the first day is any indication. I just found out I was pregnant, and I’m already miserable with the worst case of morning sickness imaginable. How in the hell am I going to work like this? I’m supposed to be teaching a classroom of nine students come Monday morning. Will I be able to make it through the two-hour class without having to throw up, or will I be spending half the time in the bathroom? And what will happen to my classroom of three-year-olds? I can’t exactly leave them to their own devices for more than a few seconds.
Man, this sucks donkey balls.
Flipping off the light, I walk on jelly legs to my bed and fall face-first onto the bedspread. I reach for my phone on the nightstand and pull up the text app.
Me: I hate you.
The bubbles appear immediately.
Logan: What’s new? *insert cheeky grin*
Me: I’m throwing up again. It’s your fault.
Logan: I’m sorry. Anything I can do?
Me: Yeah, you can do all the throwing up from this point forward. I relinquish that task to you.
Logan: Cupcake, if I could, I would.
Me: Night. I’m going to sleep. Just wanted to tell you I hate you.
I hear my phone chime, but I’m too exhausted to check his reply. I don’t even get up to turn off the bedroom light. Instead, I curl up on my side once more, this time on my soft, comfortable bed, and fall into a deep sleep.
Chapter Fourteen
Logan
When I pull into her driveway, it looks like Grand Central Station. Every light in her condo appears to be on, and even though it’s barely after eight and still somewhat light outside, it looks like she’s trying to land planes. Shaking my head, I grab the bags on the passenger seat of my truck and climb out, heading to her front door.
My initial knock goes unanswered, as does my second. Uneasiness washes over me, and I start to worry something is seriously wrong. Why wouldn’t she answer the door? Reaching down, I give the knob a turn, both grateful and incredibly disappointed at the same time. Grateful because I don’t have to break in, but also annoyed she’d risk her safety by leaving it unlocked. Not that Pine Village has a high crime rate, but she’s carrying my child now, which means I want to ensure both are safe at all times.
With a sigh, I push open the door. “Hello? Hallie?”
I get no response as I step inside and close the door behind me. The TV is on, some reality television program playing, so I walk over to the remote and flip it off. She’s not on the couch, so I head toward the hallway. After a quick peek in the kitchen to confirm she’s not in there, I move down the short hall. The bathroom door is open, lights on, so I quickly flip them off on my way by. The guest room is the only space without the light on, but my eyes are drawn to the master room. Specifically, to the beautiful woman lying across the bed.
Hallie is face down, sleeping peacefully. Finally setting eyes on her calms my racing heart a bit. I walk over and run my knuckles over her cheeks, just to feel her soft skin and make sure she’s all right. She leans slightly into my touch and sighs in contentment, and for the first time since she stopped replying to my texts, I relax.
Spinning on my heel, I return to the kitchen and place the bags on the counter. I place a few items in the fridge and keep the others out. I take what I need and return to where Hallie is resting.
