Logan sat beside me now, relaxed enough that the constant tension I’d clocked before had eased just slightly. Yet, his fingers drummed a steady rhythm against the table, a subtle beat that seemed almost like a habit ingrained over time. His gaze flickered now and then toward the exit, a watchfulness that seemed to come as naturally as breathing.
I looked over to where Harper sat next to Cami. She had Logan’s green eyes, although hers’ were wide and bright, full of innocence, a light that seemed to dance with every blink. Logan’s gaze carried the same color but with an edge, a single, startling flash of something deeper. Behind the surface glimmer, there was a weight, a sadness he kept tucked away behind layers of control and silence.
All that aside, the man had an annoyingly good smile when he forgot to guard it.
“All right, everyone,” Hunter said, standing and grabbing the check before anyone could argue. “Brunch is on me. Thanks for celebrating with us.”
He kissed the top of Cami’s head, and she leaned into him easily.
I felt a pinch in my chest watching them. I’d seen the messy years; the guilt Cami carried doing everything alone, the nights she nearly canceled dates, feeling selfish for wanting more. I’d downloaded the dating app for her and nudged her out when fear made excuses feel safer than hope.
Logan murmured a quick thank you as he stood, helping Harper slide her arms into her tiny backpack. She turned toward me, face still shiny with syrup, eyes lighting up like she’d made a decision.
“Ms.Dani,” she said, “if Daddy ruins my bun again, can we call you for help?”
Something inside me softened before I could stop it.
“Anytime,” I said, smiling. “I’m always on standby for hair emergencies.”
Logan let out a muted huff. “You’re givin’ into her too much. You can’t just—” He stopped himself, rubbing his jaw like he’d caught his own thought mid-sentence.
“I can if I want to,” I said lightly. “And I happen to be particularly fond of hair rescues.”
Harper clapped like she’d won a prize. “You have to get Dani’s number, Daddy. It’s for emergencies!”
I watched Logan’s pause, the split second his expression shifted. His thumb froze above the screen, caught between decisions. A line was being drawn, quietly and carefully.
“Fine,” he said finally. “For emergencies only.”
The words were casual, but the meaning wasn’t.
We exchanged phones. Our fingers brushed accidentally, but the awareness landed anyway, sharp and unwelcome. The kind of touch that wasn’t about skin so much as proximity.
I typedDani (Hair Consultant)into his contacts and my phone buzzed seconds later.
Logan.No emoji, no commentary, just his name.
I laughed softly. “Creative.”
He shrugged, not saying much else.
After the interaction with Logan, I spent a few minutes catching up with Cami and congratulating them again on the wedding, both of them still beaming of love and pride.
By the time I hugged everyone goodbye and drove away, I realized I was still smiling.
???
Three days later, I was buried in case files at my desk, surrounded by the comforting clutter of work. My apartment looked exactly like it always did: neat stacks of files on the coffee table, sticky notes creeping up the wall, a candle flickering faintly with bergamot and something woody.
I had been working from home today. The pain from my endometriosis had flared up in the last several days, and although I could have taken a day off to care for myself, I never allowed myself to. There was a twisted sense of pride in powering through and convincing myself that I could outwork the ache if I just kept moving. Giving in, even for a day, made me feel weak, as if the pain might swallow more than just my body if I let it. Most days, I told myself that staying busy was a way to survive.
Work was my sort of rhythm. I craved the structure it provided, even if the stakes were high.
Just as I was winding down, my cluttered thoughts scattered when my phone vibrated.
FaceTime: Logan (Grumpy Marine)
I smiled before I could stop myself.
