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CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
LOGAN
LOGAN OPENED HIS EYES and winced. A dull thudding followed by a stabbing sensation moved through the front of his head. It felt like a million tiny knives had a party in his cranium.
Rolling on his side, he groaned as he mustered the strength to sit up, lifting an arm to block the sunlight streaming through his apartment windows.
His thoughts were sluggish, which would have been a blessing if they hadn’t immediately turned to Marti. She begged him to believe her, and he wanted to, but . . . people seldom changed, and Marti was a serial heartbreaker. The first day they met in the pub, she admitted to making up stories for her column and stretching the truth about the men she encountered all in the name of her career. Why would she change now?
While it was true that any journalist worth a grain of salt could have dug up his past, it seemed implausible given the fact that this fell in step with Marti’s plan all along. Find some schmuck and fake a relationship. Get her ratings up, dump him, and make headlines. All her ducks were in a row. The fact that she regretted it now meant little in the grand scheme of things. She got attached to her shiny new toy. She’d get over it in a week while he’d still be licking his wounds for months, maybe years, to come.
Logan dropped his head in his hands and the pounding worsened.
What he needed to do now was assess the damage of her lies. He needed to make a statement, clear the air if he could and ensure he still had a viable practice to go back to on Monday. Then he’d worry about the repercussions to Hidden Heartbeat later, seeing as how that was the least of his concerns.
Taking a deep breath, he stood and shuffled his way into the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. He retrieved the bottle of Advil, uncapped it, and shook two into the palm of his hand. With a flick of the wrist, he tossed them into his mouth, then turned the faucet on and bent forward, slurping down enough water to swallow the pills, ignoring the protests of his stomach.
Once he straightened, he braced his hands on the side of the sink and stared at his reflection. He was a sorry sight with his bloodshot eyes, dark hair askew, and a frown etched in stone.
And that was when it hit him.
He wasn’t the only one impacted by this story. There was someone else named that was probably falling to pieces too.
With a growl, he squeezed his eyes closed and raked his hands through his hair.
Allison. She’d be a basket case.
It was bad enough the article would bring up painful memories but it just so happened it was right around the anniversary of when she lost the baby.
Fantastic.
This day was getting better by the second because it looked like he would have to pay his ex a visit.
LOGAN LEANED AGAINST the door of Allison’s brownstone, his sunglasses shielding the worst of the glare from the sun, his headache minimized to a dull throb.
He rang the bell for the second time and fought his impatience. “Allison, I know you’re in there. I can hear you moving around.” He pounded on the door.
A second later, he heard the clicking of the deadbolt, and she opened the door. Her eyes were watery and bloodshot from what he imagined was a night of crying and drinking. Frowning, she asked, “What do you want?”
Logan blew out a breath. “You saw the article, I take it?”
“Who didn’t? There’s a piece about it, speculating over the status of your relationship in the entertainment section of the Times this morning too. The New York Times, Logan.” Her dark eyes flickered over him in disgust.
Logan swallowed, then shoved his hands in his pockets. “Can I come in?”
When she hesitated, a part of him hoped she’d refuse and he could be on his way. The sooner he got home, the sooner he could try to forget this ever happened. There’d be no need to, once again, grovel for forgiveness from a woman who never gave a crap about his happiness.
No such luck.
Allison stepped back, allowing him to squeeze past her. He moved into the living room and took a seat on the sofa before starting in on his apology. “Look, I’m sorry. The last thing I wanted was for this to happen and your past to get publicly splashed across the news. I know how hard this time of year is for you. The article, it’s crap timing with you grieving. Reminders like this don’t help.”
Allison stood in the entryway, arms crossed over her chest. “I think about my baby girl every day, you know that. And the reminder that she didn’t need to die, that my condition could have been treated . . .” she trailed off and glanced away from him.
“I know.” Logan leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “And I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to do except apologize.” The moment the words left his mouth, he was struck with the irony that Marti had just uttered those same words to him.
“I told you dating this woman would come back to bite you, didn’t I?”
“You did.” Logan bit the inside of his cheek so he couldn’t snap and say something he’d further regret.
