Walk Through Fire (Chaos #4)(112)

MY ALARM WENT off and I started to untangle myself from Logan to hit snooze.

I didn’t move fast enough.

Logan leaned into me and yanked the alarm out of the wall, causing the noise of the lamp shaking and the nightstand jolting to be heard. Then I felt my body and the bed shift alarmingly as he forcefully hurled it across the room.

I heard it smash against the wall in a way I knew it was broken and suddenly I was wide awake.

“Logan!” I snapped.

He rolled on top of me, muttering, “Don’t live an alarm clock life.”

I kept snapping. “Well, I do!”

He kissed me.

And then I didn’t.

*  *  *

I walked into the kitchen with the empty mug that had been filled with coffee that Logan had brought to me while I was getting ready. I was in a wool herringbone skirt, a winter white, soft wool boatneck sweater, and black spike-heeled boots.

The minute I walked in, Logan, ass to the counter, mug to his lips, dropped his eyes to my skirt.

Then the boots.

I watched his lips curl up even as he continued to take a sip.

He approved.

That felt nice.

Regardless.

“We need a chat about the alarm clock,” I announced. “Primarily you replacing the one you busted.”

He sipped and his gaze went from my boots to my eyes.

“Don’t make any appointments before ten, you got a human one.”

I went to the coffeepot and started pouring more as I explained, “Sometimes I can’t make that decision. I have to meet my clients when they can meet as well as when I can.”

“Now you can’t. Until after ten.”

I shoved the pot back into the coffeemaker and looked to him.

“Logan—”

“Millie, not asking a lot.”

I stared at him.

Then I shared, “I offered Justine a job yesterday.”

His head tipped to the side. “Say again?”

“I’m always booked,” I began to explain. “I sometimes turn down clients. I can stop doing that and use the extra income to take on a part-time worker. I can also shift some of Claire’s responsibilities to Justine. I can then shift some of mine to Claire. I ran the numbers and it works. I take a minimal hit to my personal income that I’ll barely feel. And I’ll have more time.”

I stopped talking and Logan just stared at me.

So I kept talking.

“I called her last night before you got home and Justine was ecstatic. I could afford to give her a raise in salary to what she’s making now, not much but everything counts, and working with me, she’ll rarely have to put her son in day care. Same with Claire, who’ll take on more responsibility. I talked to her too. She’s on board. It’s all fixed. Justine is putting in notice today. She’ll be on payroll by Thanksgiving, which is my busiest time. Bonus to that, the two Christmas clients I had to turn down I could pick up. I called them yesterday and did that too. They were almost more ecstatic than Justine.”

I again stopped talking.

Logan again just stared at me.

So I called, “Logan?”

“My girl,” he whispered, and I felt warmth flow through me at his tone.

“Logan,” I whispered back.

“She wants somethin’, she doesn’t f*ck around.”

He was right. I didn’t.

I wanted to graduate early so we could start a family; I did it.

I wanted to contribute, even minimally, to our life financially; I worked my ass off and accomplished that.

I wanted to be a success at my own business, completely renovate a fixer-upper house so it was inch by inch all mine; I did that too.

I wanted to make a statement that Logan was important and I intended to show him that by making time for him; I absolutely did not f*ck around.

The only thing I’d wanted that I didn’t get was to make babies with my man. And it hit me right then that finding out I couldn’t when I knocked myself out to make everything so I could was something I couldn’t cope with.

As huge as that was at the time, and how deep it still burned, I realized, in the end, I hadn’t done half bad.

“Come here, beautiful, give your man some love so you can get to work.”

Voiced tender and sweet, that was an order I would obey. So I set my coffee mug aside and moved into his arms.

I wrapped mine around him, rolled up on my toes, and touched my mouth to his.

When I rolled back, we both kept hold.

“Got the girls this weekend,” he told me.

A sliver of cold fear pierced the warmth in me but I ignored it and asked, “Yeah?”

“You got a problem with them stayin’ here?”

I went back to staring.

When he said no more, like taking back that crazy question, I asked, “Here? With me? And you?”

“Here. With me. And you,” he confirmed.

I moved an inch away, still within his arms, and stated, “Low, that’s too much too soon for both of them.”

I meant that.

I also meant for all of us.

Namely me.

“I start the night on the couch, go to you when we know they’re out. They sleep for as long as they can on the weekends. We’ll be up before them. They won’t notice.”