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‘At least you tried.’
‘It was for the hospital baking competition. He really wanted us to enter.’
‘Is there a booby prize?’ she deadpanned.
‘Funny.’ His lips twitched, and she had to fight to urge to step over to taste them again.
Just like the other night.
Taking a bottle of the festive drink she’d dared him into buying, Logan collected two glasses and led the way back through to the living room, leaving her to follow.
‘I could probably give you a few pointers,’ she announced, out of the blue.
‘Sorry?’
She lifted her shoulders.
‘For your baking.’
‘You bake gingerbread men?’
‘Gingerbread folk, cookies, fairy cakes, you name it. I also make a mean frosting.’ She laughed.
‘For Carrie?’
And, for a moment, Kat could only stare at him. She felt physically winded. Then, just as quickly, she slipped her mask back into place and made herself answer.
‘I was a foster mom.’
‘You were?’
‘Before I moved to Seattle,’ she confirmed. ‘I fostered quite a few kids.’
‘Did something happen?’
‘No, I just...changed.’
He eyed her intently and she tried not to squirm. Could he tell she was lying? He wasn’t stupid. He would know that whatever had happened, it had to be significant. She’d not only moved across the country, she’d also given up a lifestyle she’d loved.
And then Logan surprised her with his soft tone.
‘No wonder Jamie took to you so easily. You clearly find it easy and natural to relate to him, knowing just what to say to sweep away his...potential issues.’
‘You’re worried about abandonment,’ she realised. ‘You think that his mother’s...lack of presence will leave Jamie feeling he was somehow at fault? Not good enough?’
She knew she’d hit the proverbial nail on the head by his taut features and locked jaw. But to his credit he dipped his head once in acknowledgement.
‘So she is still alive. She just isn’t in your lives any more?’
The silence stretched between them for an eternity, before Logan finally spoke. Biting out each word.
‘She left when Jamie was sixteen months old. But do you want to know the worst of it? I sometimes feel it would be better if Sophia had died. At least that way I could lie to Jamie and tell him that she’d loved him very much, and she would never have left him if she’d had a choice. But then I feel guilty...’
He tailed off but she knew what he’d been saying and her chest constricted.
‘You wish you could spare your son the pain and the what ifs. That’s understandable.’
It was a dilemma all too easily understood. But another question clamoured for her attention, demanding to be answered. She would just have to be subtle about asking it.
