Abby, if only to give her moments like the one he just witnessed.
Logan knew from experience—or really, the lack thereof. He had grown up without a father, and his mother had barely been present. What he would have given to have just a handful of those moments to think back on.
“So, are you two heading over to the restaurant?” Logan asked, suddenly needing to distract himself.
“Actually, Eric here—” Everyone looked to the younger man as he broke in.
“You know, Martin—I think we can just take a later flight and still be fine.”
“Are you sure?” The older man asked. Logan noticed the way Eric’s eyes quickly flashed toward him, but he didn’t back down.
“Sure—we can go for a bit, anyway.” Inwardly, Logan grinned with satisfaction.
He made this guy nervous.
Well, that had to mean something.
Chapter Six
It was an awkward dinner, Abby reflected as she sat beside Logan. Eric and her father sat across from them—her father doing most of the talking. He’d spent a good portion of their time at the restaurant telling stories from Abby and Hayley’s childhood—the many tales of mischief and mayhem. Finally, though, he’d turned to the present—turning his attentions to Logan. “So, Logan—what is it you do for a living?” He asked, his tone genuine.
“I’m an architect, actually.” Logan replied, nodding as he replaced his coffee mug on the table.
“Oh, really?” Logan nodded again. Martin leaned forward, his interests piqued. “I’ve always loved architecture—always wondered what it’d be like as a job.”
“It’s definitely the right place for me.” Logan spoke with complete certainty. He’d never really had much drive for the future until he’d met Abby, but now that he’d found something he was actually good at, he no longer doubted himself.
“Logan’s always loved building things.” Abby spoke aloud, though she didn’t really mean to. But it was true. “Blake told me quite a few stories about the forts you two would always try and build—”
“Hey, those were very sturdy plans. Our materials were just never…sufficient.” Abby smiled while her father laughed boisterously. Eric offered only a forced smile, not seeing the humor in it. She knew he was angry with her, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.
“Blake was never a hands-on kind of guy, either. That made construction a bit difficult. He was always more concerned with taking care of things. Hurt birds, stray cats, hungry dogs. If we were building a shelter for something like that, he was easily motivated.” Logan paused for a moment, the realization that he was speaking of his friend in the past tense a tough one. “Blake was a good guy.” He said finally, shifting his gaze to the mug in his hands. Abby nodded, agreeing.
“Hayley got lucky.” She had never once doubted that the two of them had belonged together. Nor did she doubt that they had ever once experienced a moment of unhappiness because of it, either. They had accepted what fate offered them and lived life to its fullest.
“They really were meant for each other,” Logan added, as if reading her mind. He found her eyes and held them, forgetting now that Abby’s fiancé was sitting across from him.
“They were.” It was just one simple statement—on the outside, completely innocent and free of any ulterior meaning. But Logan knew—he felt it in his heart, in the way she met his eyes.
She wasn’t just talking about Hayley and Blake anymore.
“They did have something special, didn’t they?” It was Martin who spoke next, looking between Abby and Logan as if seeing them for the first time. Abby felt her cheeks flush and she looked away, taking a sip of water.
“Oh, Abigail—I meant to tell you. The designer called—your dress is ready for a fitting whenever you return.” Eric’s voice shocked her back to reality and she suddenly felt guilty as he stared at her knowingly. He wasn’t blind.
“Thanks…I’ll have to—” She was about to say that she would go as soon as she got home, but she thought twice before speaking. “I’ll have to find a weekend to go. Ingrid’s pretty upset about me taking so much time off as it is.” Eric’s face remained expressionless, as did Abby’s. She knew Logan was questioning her with his eyes, but she didn’t dare look at him. Not again—especially not in front of them.
“Ingrid will have to settle down and do her own job, that’s what I say,” Martin offered, taking a sip of the coffee in front of him. There was a look of annoyance in his eyes, but