AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“No. It was like admitting I have some horrible disease.”
“You don’t. We can fix this,” she said. She was trying to reassure him and felt pathetically inadequate.
“Will you promise me that you’ll keep this to yourself? For now?”
She nodded. “I promise.” She understood how humiliated he felt, why he wanted his inability to read to remain a secret, and felt she had to agree.
“When can we start? There’s so much I want to learn. So much I want to read. Books and magazines and computer programs…” He sounded eager, his gaze level and questioning.
“Is tomorrow too soon?” Abby asked.
“I’d say it’s about twenty years too late.”
—
Tate brought Abby back to her apartment two hours later. Tomorrow she’d call the World Literacy Movement and have them email the forms for her to complete regarding Tate. He looked jubilant, excited. Telling her about his inability to read had probably been one of the most difficult things he’d ever done in his life. She understood how formidable his confession had felt to him because now she had to humble herself and call Logan. And that, although major to her, was a small thing in comparison.
Abby wasn’t unhappy at Tate’s confession. True, her dignity was stung for a moment. But overall she was relieved. Tate was the kind of man who’d always attract women’s attention. For a brief time she’d been caught up in his masculine appeal. And if it hadn’t been for Tate, it would have taken her a lot longer to recognize how fortunate she was to have Logan.
Phoning him and admitting that she was wrong had been unthinkable a week ago. Had it been only a week? In some ways it felt like a year.
Abby glanced at the ceiling and prayed that Logan would answer her call. There was so much stored in her heart that she wanted to tell him. Her hand trembled as she lifted the receiver and tried to form positive thoughts. Everything’s going to work out. I know it will. She repeated that mantra over and over as she dialed.
She was so nervous her fingers shook and her stomach churned until she was convinced she was going to be sick. Inhaling, Abby held her breath as his phone rang the first time. Her lungs refused to function. Abby closed her eyes tightly during the second ring.
“Hello?”
Abby took a deep breath.
“Logan, this is Abby.”
“Abby?” He sounded shocked.
“Can we talk? I mean, I can call back if this is inconvenient.”
“I’m on my way out the door. Would you like me to come over?”
“Yes.” She was surprised at how composed she sounded. “That would be great.” She replaced the phone and tilted her head toward the ceiling. “Thank you,” she murmured gratefully.
Looking down, Abby realized how casually she was dressed. When Logan saw her again, she wanted to bowl him over.
Racing into her room, she ripped the dress she’d worn Friday night off the hanger, then decided it wouldn’t do. She tossed it across her bed. She tried on one outfit and then another. Never had she been more unsure about what she wanted to wear. Finally she chose a pair of tailored black pants and a white blouse with an eyelet collar. Simple, elegant, classic.
Abby was frantically brushing her hair when the buzzer rang. Logan. She gripped the edge of the sink and took in a deep breath. Then she set the brush down, practiced her smile, and walked into the living room.
“Hello, Abby,” Logan said a moment later as he stepped into the apartment.
Her first impulse was to throw her arms around him and weep. A tightness gripped her throat. Whatever poise she’d managed to gather was shaken and gone with one look from him.
“Hello, Logan. Would you like to sit down?” She gestured toward the chair. Her gaze was fixed on his shoulders as he walked across the room and took a seat.
“And before you ask,” he interjected sternly, “no, I don’t want anything to drink. Sit down, Abby.”
She complied, grateful because she didn’t know how much longer her knees would support her.
“You wanted to talk?” The lines at the sides of his mouth deepened, but he wasn’t smiling.
“Yes.” She laced her hands together tightly. “I was wrong,” she murmured. Now that the words were out, Abby experienced none of the calm she’d expected. “I’m—I’m sorry.”
