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They stopped for a quick meal at a steakhouse near the airport. Then Jocelyn drove them to her condo. It was a pricy-looking upscale high-rise with what looked like a concierge desk just inside the main entrance and a curbside valet service.
“Hello, Ms. Demarco. New car?” asked the guy with the big grin who took her keys.
“Nope just a rental. Don’t put it too far away, Alex, I’ll be back in an hour or so to get it.”
“No problem, Ms. Demarco.”
Logan followed her to the door. “A valet to park your car, and a concierge. It’s like you’re rich or something.”
She laughed. “Not to brag, but I do pretty well.”
“I’d say so.”
The man behind the entry desk was on the phone, but he smiled and waved at her as she walked by.
Jocelyn led them to the elevator and eighteen floors upward put them in a plush hallway with only four doors. Walking to the far left door, Logan felt a bit underdressed for her building.
They stepped inside her well-appointed, large, sleek, and very modern apartment. “I feel like I should wipe my feet and avoid touching anything.”
She laughed. “Oh please. Like your house isn’t a mansion.”
“Still. This is really nice. Sleek, modern, clean. Awesome entertainment center. I like it.”
“Thanks.” He followed her into the kitchen. She grabbed him a bottle of water, and pointed to the half bath in the hallway.
“I just have to be on my computer for like an hour, maybe an hour and a half tops. And then I’m going to pack a few things. Can you entertain yourself for that long?”
He looked at her impressive seventy-inch-wide flat-screen television in the adjacent living room once more. “Absolutely. Get me the remote to that nice state-of-the-art piece of equipment over there, and I’ll stay out of your hair for as long as you want.”
“Done.” She found the remote, gave it to him along with a sweet kiss, and disappeared down the hall.
He skipped around the channels until he found the grouping of sports networks and indulged in a football game. He lost total track of time, because the next thing he knew she ruffled the top of his head. “Sorry to be so long.”
Logan glanced at the time, not realizing it had been almost three hours.
“I’ve put off visiting my parents long enough.”
“Okay.”
She paused with a pensive expression. “You don’t have to go with me, Logan. I don’t expect this to be a very happy meeting.”
He shrugged. “Maybe if I’m there, it won’t be as contentious.”
“I wouldn’t count on that, but thanks for the willingness to step into the lion’s den with me.”
Less than half an hour later, they arrived at her parents’ modest home in the suburbs. She took a deep breath and they headed for the front porch.
The front door was snatched open the moment they stepped onto the small staircase.
“I don’t see Jenna with you,” said the voice Logan had heard on the phone. Had that been only this morning?
Jocelyn walked toward the entryway. Logan stayed on her heels all the way into a tidy, if fifties-sitcom-like American living room. He wouldn’t have been surprised to hear the theme song from Leave It to Beaver playing in the background.
“Who’s this you’ve brought with you?” her father asked.
She turned to him. “Dad, this is Logan Pearson. Logan, this is my dad, Frank Demarco.”
“Sir,” Logan said, and offered his hand.
Her father eyed him warily for a moment, but shook his hand firmly.
Across the space, an older woman very much resembling Jocelyn came into the room.
“Jocelyn, you’re back.”
“Logan, this is my mother, Joanna. Mom, this is Logan.”
“Nice to meet you, ma’am,” he said politely, but didn’t get a chance to say more.
Mr. Demarco turned his complete attention to Jocelyn, ignoring him as if Logan and any further introductions or social niceties were no longer important. “Where’s Jenna? Why isn’t she with you? You’re not going to tell me that you couldn’t find her, are you? You were the one who went to Montana when I told you it was a complete waste of time. I told you to go to New York, but you wouldn’t listen.”
