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When it came time to pack up her things and head home, Abby found Tate surrounded by a group of single women. He glanced up and waved. “I’ll call you later,” he told her cheerfully, clearly enjoying the attention he was receiving.
“Fine,” she assured him. She hadn’t gotten as far as the parking lot when Logan caught up with her.
He grabbed her shoulder as he turned her around. The anger she’d thought had been directed inward was now focused on her.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he demanded.
“I couldn’t,” she said simply. “Tate asked me not to.”
“That’s no excuse,” he began, then paused to inhale a shuddering breath. “All the times I questioned you about meeting Tate, you were tutoring him. The least you could’ve done was tell me!”
“I already told you Tate was uncomfortable with that. Even now, I don’t think you appreciate what it took for him to admit it to you,” she explained slowly, enunciating each word so there’d be no misunderstanding. “I was the first person he’d ever told about this problem. It was traumatic for him and I couldn’t go around telling others. Surely you can understand that.”
“What about me? What about us?”
“My hands were tied. I asked you to trust me. A hundred times I pleaded with you to look beyond the obvious.”
Logan closed his eyes and emitted a low groan. “How could I have been so stupid?”
“We’ve both been stupid and we’ve both learned valuable lessons. Isn’t it time to put all that behind us?” She wanted to tell him again how much she loved him, but something stopped her.
Hands buried deep in his pockets, Logan turned away from her, but not before Abby saw that his eyes were narrowed. The stubbornness in his expression seemed to block her out.
Abby watched in disbelief. The way he was behaving implied that she’d been the unreasonable, untrusting one. The more Abby thought about their short conversation as she drove home, the angrier she got.
Pacing her living room, she folded her arms around her waist to ward off a sudden chill. “Of all the nerve,” she snapped at Dano, who paraded in front of her. The cat shot into her bedroom, smart enough to know when to avoid his mistress.
Yanking her car keys out of her purse, Abby hurried outside. She’d be darned if she’d let Logan end things like this.
His car was in its usual space, and he’d just opened the driver’s door. She marched over, standing directly in front of him.
Logan frowned. “What’s going on?”
She pointed her index finger at his chest until he backed up against the car.
“Now, listen here, Logan Fletcher. I’ve had about all I can take from you.” Every word was punctuated with a jab of her finger.
“Abby? What’s the problem?”
“You and that stubborn pride of yours.”
“Me?” he shouted in return.
“When we’re married, you can bet I won’t put up with this kind of behavior.”
“Married?” he repeated incredulously. “Who said anything about marriage?”
“I did.”
“Doesn’t the man usually do the asking?” he said in a sarcastic voice.
“Not necessarily.” Some of her anger was dissipating and she began to realize what a fool she was making of herself. “And…and while we’re on the subject, you owe me an apology.”
“You weren’t entirely innocent in any of this.”
“All right. I apologize. Does that make it easier on your fragile ego?”
“I also prefer to make my own marriage proposals.”
