When You're Ready (Ready #1)(22)

“No, my Mom gave me up when my parents divorced. Full custody went to my father. And I don’t see Eva much at all. I barely know her.”

"Oh." I didn’t know what else to say.

"It is the way it is. But I did get to see the world. I've been everywhere. Spain, Italy, China, and Russia.” He abruptly stopped as the waiter brought us drinks and took our dinner orders.

Alone again, I asked "Not that I'm not thrilled you're talking, but why are you opening up all the sudden? You devoured half a bowl of jelly beans to avoid that family question last week."

Logan stared into his wine glass, taking a sip as he quietly pondered my question. His gaze finally drifted back up to me, and our eyes locked.

"I don't know. I feel like you see through me. The normal facade I put out there to the rest of the world? It doesn't work with you. I tried it on Sunday, and you called my bluff. When you asked about my family, I was still so stunned by how clearly you saw me. You seemed to know that was the one of the few questions that would get under my skin. I've thought about it since then, and I don't know, I guess I decided if you see through it all, what’s the point?"

He shrugged, “It feels good to be honest with someone for once in my life."

I was breathless for a second, stunned by his candor. I didn’t know what to say, so I took the easy way out and changed the subject.

"I've never even been out of the country," I confessed quickly. God, I was a coward.

Understanding flashed across his face, and he eased back into our first conversation.

Thank you, I silently told him.

"Really? Never?" he replied.

"No, Ethan and I were supposed to honeymoon in Italy, but I was offered a teaching position in the history department at one of the local high schools. I couldn't get the two weeks off mid-semester, so we canceled. We had always planned on going, but then well...Maddie came, and then he got sick."

Nice Clare. Excellent dinner conversation. Much better than the last one.

My eyes reached across the table until I found Maddie and smiled. I gently ran my hands over her fingers as she colored. She, of course, didn’t notice, still stuck in her own little world of crayons. I don’t know what I would do without her.

"She looks like you," Logan said, his eyes traveling between Maddie and me, comparing mother and daughter.

"She definitely got my hair, a lighter version, but it’s still mine. But her brown eyes are all Ethan.” I said, with snort, "Red hair, freckles, and pale skin. That's all me. Poor kid, she's gonna hate me as a teenager."

"She'll be a knockout, just like her Mom."

~Logan~

I’ve never had more fun in a restaurant. I laughed when Clare told stories about Maddie's younger years. Clare's face lit up when she explained that Maddie hated diapers as a baby and she would find her crawling all over the house buck naked. Four-year-old Maddie did not find this nearly as funny and told her Mommy saying the word "diaper" at the dinner table was "imappropriate". I had to hide my laughter behind my napkin over that one.

When our food was cleared, Maddie announced that we couldn’t leave until Mommy had tiramisu. Apparently she was well aware of her mother’s sweet tooth. So I ordered one for us all to share. I helped Maddie color her menu while we waited for dessert. Coloring is not a talent of mine, and Clare jokingly pointed out this fact out to me several times.

"Oh come on, it's not like you could do better," I taunted.

"Didn't you know? I'm the Picasso of menu art," she bragged, grabbing the menu to her side of the table, and began creating her own masterpiece.

A few minutes later, our dessert arrived, and Clare handed her menu back to our side of the table. I took one look and burst out laughing.

She'd drawn a plate piled high with tiramisu. It’s disturbingly detailed. This woman knows her desserts. Above the drawing, she spelled out "Back away from my tiramisu and no one gets hurt!"

I looked up. Clare had confiscated the dessert and was already three or four bites in, a wide grin of mischief spread across her face.

"Ah, what? Your Mom just stole our dessert!"

"Mommy!!" Maddie scolded.

"I don't know why you are surprised. You know what I'm like around tiramisu. You should have warned him," she countered, taking another bite.

It’s the most ridiculous thing I’d ever seen. It was also incredibly hot. I suddenly wanted to take a huge dollop of that espresso custard and smear it between her cle**age and lick it clean.

Adjusting in my seat, I turned to Maddie and asked, "All right, princess, what do you want for dessert? I didn't realize your mother gets hostile around Italian desserts," I teased.

"Ice cream!" Maddie cheered.

I grabbed the waiter as he walked by and ordered ice cream and more tiramisu. By the time the additional desserts arrived, Clare’s tiramisu was history.

"So Maddie, your Mom told some embarrassing stuff about you. Why don't you tell me something about your Mom?" I instructed. I realized I could be digging myself a very large hole, but it was too late now.

"Oh! Okay! Um, she likes to dance, especially with me. She turns up the music real loud, and we dance all over the house. I don't think most Mommies do that, because it's really silly," she stated proudly.