“What the fuck, Emily?” he says. He throws his napkin down on the table. “Ask me the question.” His gaze is intense, and I shrink inside a little bit. “Ask me if I f**ked someone else while you were gone. That’s what you want to know, isn’t it?”

“No. What I’m saying is that…” Shit. I don’t know what I’m saying. “If you did, I drove you to it.” I heave a sigh and close my eyes. His gaze is too passionate for me.

His voice is quiet but clear, and it reaches me through my closed eyelids. “I haven’t f**ked anybody since the night I made love to you.” He slaps a heavy hand down on the table. “You really think I could stop loving you like that?”

“Was sex ever about love for you before, Logan?” I open my eyes, and he looks startled.

“Not until I met you,” he admits. His shoulders relax a little. “The last person I was inside was you, Em,” he says. “You. Only you.”

My heart skips a beat. “There hasn’t been anyone else for you? That whole time?”

“How could there be, you brilliant little dummy?” he asks. He softens the blow of the word “dummy” because he hurt my feelings with it once. My dyslexia makes reading hard, and people can be cruel.

“Just dummy will do,” I say quietly, and a smile breaks through my waterworks.

“What about you?” he asks. His gaze is intense.

My heart is so light that I can barely follow what we were talking about. “What about me?” I ask.

“You asked me if I was faithful to you,” he reminds me.

“I wasn’t really asking. I was just telling you that I could understand it if you weren’t. You didn’t even know if I was coming back.”

“I knew. But I would have done the same thing even if I hadn’t known.” His eyes narrow. “Are you avoiding my question?”

“What question?”

“Dammit, Emily.” He slaps his hand on the table again. “Did you or did you not f**k someone else?”

People in the nearby booths look in our direction, and I place a finger over my lips. “Turn your voice down,” I say.

He says it more quietly. “Did you?”

I lay a hand on my chest. “Oh, God, no,” I breathe. How could he even think that?

“I’ve seen your picture in the tabloids with the old boyfriend. A lot.” His gaze is intense again.

“My father’s publicity people set that up. They want the world to think we’re still happily engaged.” I wasn’t even aware it was happening when I attended the first event and Trip approached me. The photogs went mad taking shots of us. “I’m sorry you had to see that and wonder about it.”

“You’re not engaged to him, are you?” Worry furrows his brow, and I feel bad for all I’ve put him through.

“No. Not since before I left California the first time.”

“And he’s well aware of this?” Logan asks.

“Very well aware.” He knows. I’m not sure he cares, but he knows. “He knows I’m in love with you.”

Logan smiles innocently. “He knows about me?”

“He knows all about you.” I take his hand. “I love you, Logan.”

“Good. Because I plan to put a ring on this as soon as you’ll let me.” He draws my ring finger to his lips and kisses it gently.

My heart thuds. “A ring?”

He nods. “A ring.”

“Can you tattoo one on me?” I ask impulsively. “Because I don’t plan to ever take it off.”

He smiles. “I’ll think about it.” He points to my pie. “Eat,” he says. “I can hear your stomach growling and I’m deaf. Imagine how much you’re offending the other people. They just want to eat their soup, and your stomach sounds like an F-350.”

“How do you know what an F-350 sounds like?” I laugh. I have missed him like crazy.

“Tell me something that’s loud and groaning, then?” he asks.

“You will be later.”

He freezes. “Eat your f**king pie.”

I lift a forkful of apple pie to my lips.

I’m home.

Logan

Emily’s hand is tucked securely into mine, and that’s a good thing because I don’t want to ever let her go.

“Can you come home with me?” she asks for the second time. The snow is falling heavily now, and her hair is covered in white flakes as soon as we step out the diner door. I take my hoodie off and put it on her, pulling the fabric over her hair. I wrap a lock of it around my finger, letting the silk slide against my fingertip. I’m wearing a long-sleeve thermal shirt and jeans, but nothing else. I hunch my back against the wind.

Emily lifts my hoodie up to her nose so she can smell it. “You might not get this back,” she warns.

“I don’t care.” I’m just so happy she’s here.

“So, do you want to come home with me?” she asks. Her head is tilted to the side like an inquisitive puppy. There’s a question in her gaze, one that’s full of misunderstanding.

“Where’s home?” I ask.

“I have an apartment a few miles from here.”

“Why so far away?” I ask.

She shrugs. “My mother chose it. It’s near campus.”

“Would you rather go home with me?” I ask. I know my brothers want to see her. They’ve missed her almost as much as I did.

She shakes her head. “I’d rather have you all to myself.”

“You live alone?” I’m not sure that’s safe.

She nods and tugs on my fingers. “Come with me.” She holds up a hand to hail a cab. It stops, and she looks at me with a question in her gaze.

“All right,” I say. I help her into the cab with a hand at the small of her back and slide in behind her. She rattles off an address, but I can’t see her lips in the darkness.

Her few miles feel like twenty, and I watch the cab rate go up and up and up. I am not sure how much money I have in my wallet. Shit. This is bad.

“Next time, let’s take the subway,” I toss out. I scrub a hand down my face.

“Not at this time of the night,” she scoffs.

“I’d keep you safe.” I tip her chin up. “The Emily who left here was fearless. What happened?”

“The Emily that left here was dirt poor. I didn’t have any choice but to ride the subway at all hours of the night. Now I don’t have to.” She looks into my eyes.

I nod my head. I forget sometimes that she comes from privilege. And I don’t. We used to be equal, and now we’re not.

She reaches up and flattens the space between my eyebrows with the pad of her thumb, and I realize I was scowling at her. I squeeze her hand in reassurance.

Her scent wraps around me, and I want to bury my face in her hair and drink her in. She looks so damn pretty and smells so f**king good that I can’t help but pull her legs across mine so that she’s almost in my lap. She lays her head on my chest and snuggles into me, her head beneath my chin. I take in the scent of her again and revel in the feel of her in my arms.

I lift the hem of her shirt and slide my hands against her skin. She squeals and grabs for my hand, clutching it still against her belly. “Your hands are freezing,” she says over a laugh.

“I know,” I admit. “And you’re warm. So, warm me up.”

Truth be told, I’m so hot right now I could explode. Her bottom is resting on my thigh, and I want so badly to be inside her that I can taste it. She lets my hand go and presses it flat against her stomach, then hitches it higher. I see the cab driver watching us in the rearview mirror and pull my hand back down. She groans. I can feel the vibration of the noise in her belly.

“Patience,” I tease.

The cab finally stops, and I pull out a twenty, handing it to the driver. Sorry, no tip. My wallet is now empty since I paid for the pie and for the cab. I’m just glad I had enough.

I stop and look up through the falling snow at her apartment building. It’s nothing like where I live. The walls are shiny glass, and there’s a doorman who rushes from the front of the building with an umbrella. “Good evening, Miss Madison,” he says, as he covers her head to protect her from the snow.

“Good evening, Henry,” she replies. She smiles at him, and the old man grins even wider. “Did you have a good day?” she asks.

His smile grows even larger and he says, “It’s even better now that I’ve seen you again.”

Emily chucks his shoulder. “Are you always an incurable flirt, Henry?” she teases. His face gets all rosy.

“My wife would kick me out, Miss Madison, if I ever flirted with a single woman.”

“How long have you been married, Henry?” Emily asks.

He scratches his chin. “About thirty-six years?”

“Are you asking me?” Emily banters.

He shakes his head and opens the door for her. “It was 1978. I just can’t do the math in my head the way I used to.”

She stops in the doorway and lays her hand upon my arm. “Henry, this is my friend, Logan Reed.”

She signs while she talks, and Henry looks me up and down. But then he sticks his hand out to shake when I offer mine. I take it and appreciate the firmness of his grip.

“Henry,” Emily asks, “can you see about getting a key made for Logan? And be sure he’s on the list of people who can come and go freely?”

Henry frowns. “Are you certain your father would approve?” he asks.

The whole time he’s talking, Emily’s translating for me. I really don’t need it, unless the man turns away.

“I’m certain my father would not approve,” Emily says with a laugh. She wraps one of her arms through mine. “But I plan to marry this man.”

His eyebrows arch. “Are congratulations in order?”

She leans toward him like she’s going to tell him a secret, but I can see her lips as plain as day. “He hasn’t officially asked me yet, but I’m stating my plans up front so he’ll know how I feel.”

Henry smiles. “I see.” He leans toward me this time. “She’ll have you walking the straight and narrow in no time.” He motions to Emily. “Just look at her. She’s gorgeous.”

“She’s mine,” I say, wrapping my arms around her. “So, don’t get any ideas.” I smile at him and look down into her brown eyes. She blinks up at me. God, she’s so pretty.

“If I were one day younger, I would have to fight you for her,” he warns. But then he chuckles. He looks at Emily and winks. “I’ll get that key made for you. And I’ll add him to the list.”

She asks him, “Henry, do you think it’s necessary for us to tell my father about Logan’s key?”

He presses his lips together for a moment and then shakes his head. “What key?”

She grins, but my heart flips over. She doesn’t want her father to know I have permission to come and go in her apartment? What the fuck?

Henry eyes my tattoos with an appraising gaze. I’m not sure he approves, but I don’t particularly care. I pull the sleeves of my thermal shirt up so he can see the rest. He may as well get a full picture before he decides if I’m worthy of being with Emily or not. I’m a hard-working man who loves art, and I love this girl. That’s the only thing he needs to know.

“Thank you for the help,” I say. I let Emily pull me toward the elevator. She waves at Henry, and he waves back, blushing at her.

I lean against the wall in the elevator and cross one foot over the other. “Why don’t you want your father to know about me?”

She blushes. “I want him to know everything about you, dummy,” she says, then grins. “I just don’t want him to know you’re sleeping with me.”

“Sleeping?” I ask, wiggling my eyebrows at her. “I doubt we’re going to be doing much sleeping.”

The doors open and she steps out, pulling me behind her. She looks at me. “Would you be all right with meeting my parents?” she asks. “They’re still in town.”

I stop as she opens the door, reaching to tag the top of the doorframe as she walks into the apartment. “You want me to meet your parents?” I wasn’t certain she would want that.

She drops her keys on a table by the door, locks the deadbolt behind her, and then puts a security code in the keypad by the door. Her hair hangs down to cover part of her face, and I brush it back. “Em,” I say softly. “You want me to meet your parents?”

She heaves a sigh. I can feel it blow across my chin. “I want my parents to meet you. I’m just not sure if I want you to meet them.” She blows out a frustrated breath. “My dad can be a little…condescending. I’m afraid of what he’ll say to you.” She shakes her head. “That’s all.” She looks directly into my eyes. “It’s all about him. Not you.”

“So you don’t want me to meet them.” I let my hands drop to my sides.

“No,” she rushes to say. “I want you to meet them.”

“When?” I need to know.

She shrugs and grimaces. “Tomorrow?”

A grin tugs at the corners of my lips. “Really?”

She smiles. “Really.” She pats my shirt. “You’re wet. You should take this off.”

She doesn’t have to ask me twice. I reach back behind my head and pull my shirt off the way guys do. I don’t have anything on under it.