“I do,” Logan confirmed. “You know I do.” He took her hand and directed their bodies to touch.
She itched to kiss again. Her mind ran rampant with their romantic entanglements, and she wanted to let her body fold against his. She wanted to feel the hitch in her breath, the glide of his tongue, the parting of her lips. Brooke would let him stay for as long as he wanted, hopefully forever.
“Good,” she smirked. “Then my brilliant plan worked.”
He raised an eyebrow with a smirk. “I didn’t know you had one.”
“Neither did I. But apparently if you pass out, a handsome doctor might end up saving you.” Her lips twitched. “So, thank you.”
“I admit it certainly sealed the deal for me.” The elevator doors dinged and then swung open.
They left the elevator and meandered across the lobby. When they exited, warm Chicago night air whirled around them. A week ago, an unusual heat wave settled over the city. By next week, it would be gone, and the cold night air would return until summer.
“I ordered us food from the restaurant next to your apartment.” Logan’s hand found hers. “It won’t be a far walk. Maybe an extra fifty feet. Are you feeling strong enough?”
“I’m okay to walk.” She landed a short peck on his cheek. “Thank you.”
They took an uber to the restaurant next to her apartment.
When they climbed out, and the car drove away, she asked the question itching inside of her, “Do you think Danielle will ever learn to like me?”
He halted, making her nearly stumble against the back of his heels. “She already does, and for the record even if Danielle didn’t, I wouldn’t care. I’m done with other people telling me who to love and who to be with.”
“But she’s your sister,” Brooke insisted.
“And someday, I want you to be my wife,” he stated without hesitation.
“Wife, you say?—”
“Wife supersedes sister, always.”
“Okay,” she softly replied.
His gaze glimmered with the overhead streetlamps and lights. People stumbled out of the shops and restaurants and passed by them on the sidewalk.
“We’ll have to see about that.” Then Brooke nudged her head in the direction of the restaurant. “Now, enough chatting I’m starving. This is where a package of Oreos would come in handy.”
“Oh.” Logan retrieved a small package out of his pocket and handed them to her. “These should hold you over until we get real food.”
“Oreos,” Brooke busted opened the package and ate a bite, “are real food. They’re the best food.”
Logan smirked. “Right—if you say so.” They walked to the restaurant door. He held the door open. “Mom is insisting on this dinner. Are you free any upcoming Sunday?”
“No,” Brooke wandered inside the tight foyer of the restaurant. The lights were low and the music a tad too loud. She spoke louder, “I have to work the next three Sundays.”
“Then they’ll have to wait.” Logan checked in with the host and let them know of their order. The host disappeared into the belly of the restaurant and back to the kitchen. He leaned his hip against the counter as he waited while Brooke polished off another Oreo. “We’ll go the next time you’re free.”
“Are you going to want to move back someday?” Brooke brushed some stray crumbs off her lip. “Live in a house on the same street as your parents and sister?”
“What do you want?” Logan studied her.
“I don’t know.” Brooke shoved the half-eaten package of Oreos into her pocket. Then she brushed her hands together. “That’s why I asked you.”
He shrugged. “Where you go, I go.”
“Okay.” Brooke furrowed her brow. “Meaning?”
“Food’s ready,” the host announced as they set the bag of food on the counter.
