is quite a relief as it was getting a bit itchy under there. I’ve still got my hand wrapped up to protect the stitches, but they all think it’s quite cool and I even let them decorate on it so it ends up a colorful mess by the time they’re set to leave for the afternoon.
I start to gather their things and load them up with their lunch sacks. One by one, they leave, until Briggs is the only one left.
“Don’t worry, Ms. Candace. My uncle didn’t forget about me,” he says with a huge smile. “He said he’d be a little late for pick-up today.”
“Oh, did he?”
All day, I’ve told myself I wasn’t excited to see Logan, but it’s no use. I didn’t slip out to the loo and freshen up my makeup during naptime just for the fun of it. I am eagerly anticipating his arrival at my door, so much so that I’m a nervous wreck.
I tidy up the pillows in the reading corner. Then, suddenly, I hate how they’re arranged and decide to completely redo them. That’ll do…for now. Next, I rewash the brushes in the sink that we used during art class. It takes quite a long time using only the one hand.
I’m nearly finished when there’s a knock on the door, and I turn to glance over my shoulder. Logan’s standing on the other side of the half-opened Dutch door with a bouquet of white peonies in his hand. He’s dressed to the nines: black suit, black tie, crisp white shirt underneath his unbuttoned fitted jacket.
He is, in short…divine.
I don’t even have enough sense to walk over to greet him, but fortunately Briggs is there as a distraction.
“You look like a secret agent, Uncle Logan!”
Yes, very 007 of him to show up here like that.
I dry my hand with a towel and head for the door, highly aware of every step I take that carries me toward him. He’s watching me with a little smile, every bit as confident as he’s ever been.
“Who are the flowers for?” I ask, crossing my arms once I’m close enough to him to feel that little tug of energy that seems to exist between us.
“Briggs’ teacher. I’ve got a thing for her.”
Briggs gags like he might throw up. “Girls are so gross!”
Right. I accept the flowers when he holds them out for me and try hard to ignore their beauty, but they’re quite huge and there are enough of them that they’re heavy in my hand.
“Where are you off to?” I ask, nodding toward his clothes.
“A dinner with the team from Gatorade. I wanted to invite you.”
“I can’t go. I’ve got plans.”
With my sofa.
“You didn’t answer my call yesterday.”
“I’m a busy girl.”
He tips his head, looking at me like he can’t get enough. His eyes crinkle and he’s not mad, even though he should be. Why isn’t he mad?
“So do you have plans all weekend?” he asks.
Yes. Tomorrow night, I’m going round to Jay’s for dinner. Kat’s been telling me about it nonstop, droning on about what she and Jay plan on cooking, how great Jay is in the kitchen, what dress she plans on wearing…la de dah. Now I know how she and Yasmine must have felt when I wouldn’t shut up about Logan.
Anyway, he asked me a question, so I’ll answer.
“Yes, I do have plans, as a matter of fact. Plans tonight. Plans tomorrow. Plans straight through the weekend. Do you?”
His smile widens. “Yeah.”
“You two are being weird,” Briggs declares. “Are you going to get married?”
I nearly choke.
“What?! Why would you—”
“Should I ask her to marry me, Briggs?” Logan asks with a lazy smile.
“LOGAN!”
“Yeah, she’s cool. Not like the girls in my class who are scared of worms.”
“I’ll take that into consideration,” Logan says, glancing back up to me with mischief in his gaze. “We’d better get going so Candace isn’t late for her plans.”
“Yes, thank you.” I nod. “Very considerate. Bye, Briggs.”
“See you later, alligator!”
“In a while, crocodile.”
Later that evening, I’m lying in bed trying to force myself to get into a book that’s been sitting on my nightstand for ages. It’s not that I don’t like to read; it’s that my brain doesn’t seem to want to concentrate lately.
Kat is gone, off at Jay’s just like she’s been the last two nights. They must be getting on well then. I turn a page—having not absorbed a single thing from the previous one—and I continue on like that until my mobile rings on my nightstand.
It’s