“Maybe that was part of your problem,” Logan couldn’t help but notice.
“Probably,” Derek agreed, sounding suddenly morose. “That and my getting wasted and waking up in the wrong bed one too many times. And let’s not forget the boy toy she’s got now. She told me no one stays married to a fuck-up.” He sent Logan a self-mocking half-grin. “See? Things could be much worse. You could be me.”
“It’s looking better from here, trust me.”
Logan’s stomach growled as he watched his friend pull another slice from the open pizza box on the coffee table. He snatched one up before Derek ate the entire thing himself. A bit of pepperoni grease oozed onto his white shirt, but Logan didn’t bother to try to clean the spot. Oddly enough, the idea that he’d just ruined his shirt gave him some sort of perverse satisfaction.
“How would you feel if the woman carrying your baby would rather raise the kid on her own than tell you about it?” Logan asked Derek around a mouthful of pizza.
“I don’t know. Maybe relieved.” He passed a hand over his face. “I’m so fucked up that a kid has to be better off without me.”
“Bullshit,” Logan told him. “You’d be pissed.” He paused. “You’re not so fucked up.”
Derek gave him a look. “You don’t know half the shit I’ve done. But forget about me. You’ll be a terrific father, Loge.”
Logan expelled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Having someone’s vote of confidence, hell, having anyone’s, meant a lot to him. He had to admit to himself that Claire’s lack of confidence in him had made him take a harder look at himself. Damn if he didn’t dislike what he saw, didn’t agree with her in at least some small measure.
“What the hell does a kid who never had parents know about becoming one?” Logan shook his head, still uncertain of the situation. Uncertain of himself. “I mean, sometimes it’s all I can do to take care of Caesar and he’s pretty much self-sufficient.”
Having heard his name, the cat shifted a bit, glanced at Logan through one golden eye, and meowed his agreement. But, being a cat, he refused to move away from the hand rubbing his belly. Loyalty, after all, takes a backseat to comfort in the feline world.
“You know what it’s like to be without a father,” Derek quietly reminded him. “That’s all that matters.”
“You’re right.” Logan allowed himself to relax. The faint stirring of a migraine began to pound inside his brain. He mentally counted to ten, allowing his gaze to drift to the television. A chuckle rose in his throat as Betty White’s perplexed face appeared on the screen. “Christ. You’re watchingThe Golden Girls?”
His friend’s face turned the slightest bit pink. “It’s funny, Loge. Swear to God.”
“Uh-huh.” A full-fledged grin split Logan’s face. Wait until he told—
“Don’t you dare tell anyone,” Derek said, apparently sensing Logan’s frame of mind. “I’d hate to be forced to kick your ass.”
Logan’s grin grew wider. “I’d hate to have to pretend you have a chance of taking me. Besides, I wouldn’t want you to miss your show.”
“Oh you’re so damn funny.” Derek glared at him, but an answering grin tugged at his lips.
“It’s one of many talents,” Logan assured him.
Now this, he could handle. It was the good old days. Friends bickering good-naturedly. It used to be that way once, before careers, rehab, and now babies.
Logan had a persisting feeling that it would never quite be like that again.
Claire barely managed to clear the elevator doors the next morning before Jamie swooped down on her. She grabbed Claire’s arm with two hands and tugged her toward her office. Her pace proved entirely too fast for Claire this early in the morning.
Not only did Claire’s feet already hurt from her trendy yet torturous heels—thanks to water retainage, no doubt—she was also bleary-eyed and sluggish. She’d crawled out of bed not forty-five minutes ago, and she already needed a nap. Claire didn’t even know if her clothing matched, and she sure as heck wasn’t performing an early-morning sprint to her office.
She stopped, forcing Jamie to stop too. “Jamie, I don’t jog. At this point, I don’t even manage a brisk walk. So could you explain why you’re dragging me across the office?”
“The King’s on the warpath.” Jamie kept her voice to a whisper, her eyes darting around nervously. “And he’s been down here looking for you.”
Claire was nonplussed. “Then why are you taking me to my office? Don’t you think that’s an obvious place for him to find me?”
“I lied and told him you had a meeting with Liz from Creative.” Jamie tugged again. “He won’t be back for another fifteen minutes, at least. You know how much Liz loves to kiss his ass. We need to go to your office to talk.”
“We can’t talk here?” Claire glanced at the cubicles surrounding them. To her right, a man from accounting was studiously typing at his computer, while staring at them from behind thick, hideous glasses.
Jamie stepped into Claire’s line of vision. “That’s Stewart,” she ground out, voice low. “He’s a walking carbon copy. You say it, he tells the King.”
Claire fought the urge to roll her eyes, but lost and gave in. Jamie’s middle name had to be Drama. But despite her tendency toward dramatics, she was a sweet woman.
