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“I apologize if I put a damper on your date,” she returned with smooth derision. “Believe me, had I known about it, I would never have visited Patty at such an inopportune time. My timing couldn’t have been worse—or better, depending on how you look at it.”
“Abby,” he said and sighed. “Let me in. Please.”
“Not tonight, Logan.”
Frustration furrowed his brow. “Tomorrow, then?”
“Tomorrow,” she agreed, and started to close the door. “Logan,” she called, and he immediately turned back. “Without meaning to sound like I care a whole lot, let me ask you something. Why did you give Patty the same perfume as me?” Some perverse part of herself had to know.
His look was filled with defeat. “It seemed the thing to do. I knew she’d enjoy it, and to be honest, I felt sorry for her. Patty needs someone.”
Abby’s chin quivered as the hurt coursed through her. Self-respect dictated that she maintain a level gaze. “Thank you for not lying,” she said, and closed the door.
—
Tate was waiting for her when Abby entered the park at eleven-thirty Sunday morning. Since her Saturday sessions with Mai-Ling had come to an end, Abby was now devoting extra time on the weekends to Tate.
“You look like you just stepped out of the dentist’s chair,” Tate said, studying her closely. “What’s the matter? Didn’t you sleep well last night?”
She hadn’t.
“You work too hard,” he told her. “You’re always helping others. Me and Mai-Ling…”
Abby sat on the blanket Tate had spread out on the grass and lowered her gaze so that her hair fell forward, hiding her face. “I don’t do nearly enough,” she disagreed. “Tate,” she said, raising her eyes to his. “I’ve never told anyone the reason we meet. Would you mind if I did? Just one person?”
Unable to sleep, Abby had considered the various reasons Logan might have asked Patty out for dinner. She was sure he hadn’t purposely meant to hurt her. The only logical explanation was that he wanted her to experience the same feelings he had, since she was continuing to see Tate. And yet he’d gone to pains to keep her from knowing about the date. Nothing made sense anymore. But if she could tell Logan the reason she was meeting Tate, things would be easier…
Tate rubbed a weary hand over his eyes. “This is causing problems with you and—what’s-his-name—isn’t it?”
Abby didn’t want to put any unnecessary pressure on Tate, so she shrugged, hoping to give the impression of indifference. “A little. But I don’t think Logan really understands.”
“Is it absolutely necessary that he know?”
“No, I guess not.” Abby had realized it would be extremely difficult for Tate to let anyone else learn about his inability to read—especially Logan.
“Then would it be too selfish of me to ask that you don’t say anything?” Tate asked. “At least not yet?” A look of pain flashed over his face, and Abby understood anew how hard it was for him to talk about his problem. “I suppose it’s a matter of dignity.”
Abby’s smile relaxed her tense mouth. The relationship among the three of them was a mixed-up matter of ego, and she didn’t know whose was the most unyielding.
“No, I don’t mind,” she replied, and opened her backpack to take out some books. “By the way, I want to give you something.” She handed him three of her favorite Dick Francis books. “These are classics in the mystery genre. They may be a bit difficult for you in the beginning, but I think you’ll enjoy them.”
Tate turned the paperback copy of The Danger over and read the back-cover blurb. “His business is kidnapping?” He sounded unsure as he raised his eyes to hers.
“Trust me. It’s good.”
“I’ll give it a try. But it looks like it’ll take me a while.”
“Practice makes perfect.”
Tate laughed in the low, lazy manner she enjoyed so much. “I’ve never known anyone who has an automatic comeback the way you do.” He took a cold can of soda and tossed it to her. “Let’s drink to your wit.”
“And have a celebration of words.” She settled her back against the trunk of a massive elm and closed her eyes as Tate haltingly read the first lines of the book she’d given him. It seemed impossible that only a few weeks before he’d been unable to identify the letters of the alphabet. But his difficulty wasn’t attributed to any learning disability, such as she’d encountered in the past with others. He was already at a junior level and advancing so quickly she had trouble keeping him in material, which was why she’d started him on a novel. Unfortunately, his writing and spelling skills were advancing at a slower pace. Abby calculated that it wouldn’t take more than a month or two before she could set him on his own with the promise to help when he needed it. Already he’d voiced his concerns about an application he’d be filling out for the bank to obtain a business loan. She’d assured him they’d go over it together.
—
Abby hadn’t been home fifteen minutes when Logan showed up at her building. She buzzed him in and opened the door, but for all the emotion he revealed, his face might have been carved in stone.
“Are you going to let me inside today?” he asked, peering into her apartment.
