Logan laughs again, enjoying yet another of my overreactions.

Pushing on, I ask, “And when they’ve questioned you about having children, what have you said?”

“I, uh, told them that I am undecided, and that I’d know once when I’d met the woman that I’m going to marry.”

“And now that you’ve met me?” I say smugly.

He smiles. “Baby, I can think of nothing better than spending my life, my whole life, with you. But I want it to be only you and I,” he reveals.

I nod, satisfied. “I want that too,” I lean across the table to give him a quick kiss.

“That’s what I thought,” he says confidently, making me smile. “But if we ever change our minds,” he says seriously, “or if Amber teams up with my mother and they succeed in replacing your pill with a placebo,” he chuckles, though my eyes grow wide — that’s actually a really good idea; though possibly illegal — “…then the door is always open. If I’m going to be a parent, you’re the only woman that I want to go on that journey with.”

Hmm. “I like that. An open door,” I muse.

Despite Amber’s urgency, the truth is that we don’t have to decide definitively, not today, not tomorrow, or any day after. We can just be, just live our lives, and if it happens, it happens, and we’ll embark on that wild ride together.

“Whether it is ever relevant or not, I think you’d make an incredible father,” I tell him earnestly. His patience, his cool temperament, his affectionate nature are testaments to that.

“Thank you, baby. I’d certainly give my child more liberty than my father gives me,” he sighs, his words weighted.

“He’s just worried, Logan,” I tell him again.

He shakes his head. “He’s actually not the problem…”

“Then who?”

“Taylor,” he says immediately. “When Taylor finds out about my fight with Jerry, he’s going to give me hell,” I’m informed. “He might even cancel his trip altogether; that wouldn’t surprise me at all.” After a brief pause, he shrugs, saying, “That might be for the best, anyway. I want you to enjoy meeting my parents, and Taylor has a habit of souring every encounter we have together.”

“But…but how come he’s married if he’s such an asshole?” I wonder out loud.

“He’s only an asshole to me,” Logan laughs. “Everyone else likes him. Except for Buddy,” he amends.

“Your parents don’t notice the strain in your relationship?”

“They’ve given up trying to convince him that I’m a nice guy. Karen, my sister-in-law, has given up too. So have I. He’s been waiting over fifteen years for me to fuck up, and — believe me — that’s exactly how he’ll see my run-in with Jerry. It’s proof to him.”

Dammit! I have a burning question that I need to ask, though I’m embarrassed even thinking about. Eventually, I blurt out, “I know this is an incredibly selfish and wimpy thing to ask, but I just have to ask so that I can brace myself…”

“What is it?”

“Will your family be reproving of me because Jerry is my ex? Like, will they think that I’m some sort of bad influence that’s steering you to do bad things?”

A smile overcomes his face instantly. “Is that a serious question or are you just trying to make me smile?” His response is an answer in and of itself. But when I stay silent, he reaches for my hand, and confirms, “No, baby, they won’t think any less of you because of this, I promise. I’ve told my parents how much I love you, they know I’m happier than I’ve ever been before. That’s your influence, Gemima.”

I am both relieved and tickled by his words.

“And just so you know…you can always ask me anything, no matter how selfish or wimpy it might be,” he grins, before eating a massive mouthful of food.

I nod my understanding, and then taking the conversation back to Taylor, I ask “So, what about your niece? Does she like you?”

“Oh, she loves me, much to Taylor’s annoyance. I adore her too,” he says affectionately. “Before getting to know you, she was the funniest person I knew,” he says, grinning at me.

I roll my eyes, making him laugh. “Do you see her often?”

“I go back to Charleston every year, around her birthday. She’s five and a half now. Taylor’s not going to trust me with her when he finds out about Jerry,” Logan sighs, mournfully. “And just to be clear, that’s not your fault either. That’s just Taylor holding onto any excuse he can get his hands on in order to use her against me.”

Seriously? “He really thinks that you’re capable of hitting a child?” I ask in disbelief.

Surely, this whole brotherly spat is being blown way out of proportion? Surely, Taylor’s not as big of an asshole as I already think he is? I feel an unpleasant tension fill my body, a desire, a need to make Taylor see sense.

“He was a child when I hit him,” Logan reminds me.

“So were you, Logan,” I say heatedly, defending him from himself. “You were only a teenager, you were probably drunk, or stoned, or off your head on something else. And while that doesn’t pardon what you did, it also shouldn’t condemn you forever either. I mean, you weren’t you!” I’m becoming exasperated.

With a level head, Logan says, “Right as you are, baby, that fact has never yet managed to penetrate Taylor’s stubborn skull. He wants me to be the bad guy.”

I sigh, giving up. “Fine, then,” I huff. “If Taylor wants bad, I’ll give him bad.”

“What are you going to do?” Logan smiles mischievously.

I consider several heated options, but eventually I calm down. “Nothing,” I decide. “At least, nothing bad. I’m going to have a good time. The best time,” I amend. “And while I’ll no doubt embarrass myself on a minimum of five separate occasions, I’m still going to have the best time because I’ll be with you. And nothing will piss off Taylor more than seeing you happy.”

“Sad, but true,” Logan agrees.

“And nothing will cement his grudge against you quite like seeing you being appreciated by people who love and admire you. Saturday night is going to be torture for him,” I say, thinking about the Appreciation Night that is being held for Logan in honour of his upcoming birthday.

He groans. “For him and me both.”

Abruptly remembering something that Buddy said this morning, I giggle. “You’ll walk into the room on Saturday night and everyone will start howling.”

Logan looks more confused than I’ve ever seen him look before. “Howling?”

“Yeah,” I grin. “I heard about your nickname: the Wolf.”

He erupts into laughter. “That name is ancient!”

As something occurs to me, I ask, “Is a female wolf called a bitch? Because if it is, then Taylor will have a great opening for insulting me.”

“He’s not going to insult you,” Logan says seriously. “And nobody calls me the Wolf anymore, not for a long time.”

“How’d you end up with such a sexy nickname, anyway?” I ask him.

“By doing some pretty un-sexy things,” Logan laughs.

“Like what?”

“Uh…” he thinks back. “Like working twenty hour days. Like chasing projects that people told me were way out of my league.”

“Why did you chase them?” I want to know.

“Because I knew I could win them,” he says.

“And did you?”

He smirks arrogantly in response. Of course he won them. I can’t help but laugh.

“You see,” he says, “I had an unrelenting self-confidence because I had nothing to lose. I’d already been to rock bottom, and that made me fearless in business, especially at the beginning. I stole jobs right out from under much bigger firms, and I guess some people thought I was sneaky, ruthless even, and so they called me the Wolf. The truth is that their ideas were outdated, and mine were fresh.”

“And so the empire was born,” I smile.

He nods. “After I grew my own company up to sixty or seventy employees it was brought to my attention — by my mother, no less — that I had to think about other people’s job security now as well, and not just about myself. That realisation grounded me, I was humbled by it, and after that I changed my tact. I put my reckless nature on the back burner, and the nickname died away over time. How did you hear about it, anyway?”