When You're Ready (Ready #1)(53)

As I began heating up the griddle, I heard her walk into the kitchen and felt her arms wrap around my waist from behind.

“You’re making me pancakes?” she asked, resting her head against my back.

“And bacon,” I added, pointing to the package of bacon sitting next to the stove.

“Mmm..you’re my hero.”

Turning so I could face her and see those vivid green eyes I’d become enchanted with, I laughed before asking, “I could really get you to do just about anything if I used food as the incentive, couldn’t I?”

“Well, it really depends on the type of food you’re offering. Veggies? Probably not. But if you offered me a chocolate cake with peanut butter frosting? Well then, yes. I’d probably become your sex slave for life. Wait, where are you going?”

Walking over to my cell phone, I picked it up and start punching buttons.

“Finding a bakery obviously,” I answered.

She thought I was kidding.

“You are not!” she squealed.

“Oh, I so am. And then I’m going to lick every bit of frosting off your delectable body.” I promised darkly.

“Um.”

She was speechless. I don’t think I had ever reduced her to speechless before. Score one for Logan.

Just as I was about to punch in the number for the bakery I found, a call came in on my phone causing me to groan.

“Shit,” I muttered.

“Who is it?” Clare asked, her voice was full of concern and she stopped pouring the pancakes to check on me.

“My mother,” I told her before I hit receive, bringing the phone to my ear.

“Hello Mother,” I answered.

“Oh Logan darling! How are you? It’s been so long since I’ve heard your voice.”

Well, I did have a phone. She could call me. But I didn’t say that. I had learned that even when I did speak to her, my mother only heard what she wanted to.

“I’m well, thank you,” I said politely, as I started pacing the kitchen. Whatever reason she was calling for, I hope she got to the point soon. Her voice was ruining my mood, and Clare didn’t need to get caught up in the f**ked up mess that was my family.

“Good, good,” she replied, before continuing. “Listen, I have wonderful news! You’ll never guess!” Oh I was sure I already knew. Before I could even respond, she blurted out, “I’m getting married! Again!”

Yep. I knew it.

“To whom?” I asked, mustering up as much excitement as physically possible. I had no idea why I even bothered.

“Robert Erikson. He’s a banker. We’ve been seeing each other for a while now. Surely, I’ve told you about him?” She hadn’t, but it didn’t matter.

“Well, that’s wonderful mother. When’s the big day?”

“In four weeks! You have to come! It’s going to be lovely.” She continued on, telling me about wedding colors and the venue, and a million other things I didn’t care about. I heard about half of it as my focus centered back on the beautiful redhead currently making pancakes in my kitchen.

“Well, that’s really soon. I’ll have to check my schedule at the hospital,” I said, fully planning on doing the exact opposite, with a follow up call a week later apologizing for my absence.

“I know we would both love for you to be there,” she emphasized.

We said our goodbyes, and I walked back to where Clare stood in the kitchen. I wrapped my arms around her waist, feeling myself settle, and center.

“So, your Mom? You’ve never talked about her,” Clare asked cautiously.

“That’s because she’s a gold-digging, self-centered woman who cares more about her next purse or pair of shoes than she does about her children,” I answered bluntly.

“She’s getting married?”

I nodded my head, saying “Don’t get too excited. I think this is number four, maybe five. Weddings are her thing. Marriage...not so much.”

Scrunching her brow, she asked, “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know all the particulars because no one in my family talks to each other, but from what I’ve gathered over the years from various household staff and family friends is, at some point, my parents actually loved each other. I’m guessing that’s how Eva and I came about.”

I couldn’t imagine my father feeling warmth toward anyone, but apparently for a short time, my mother was his world.

Sitting down with our breakfast, Clare looked at me with those bewitching green eyes that begged me to continue, and so I took a breath and carried on.

“A short time after Eva was born, my father caught wind from some family friends that Mom’s flamboyant behavior was not going unnoticed in their social circles.”

“Flamboyant?” she questioned.

Pushing the food around on my plate, I answered, “See, the type of social circle my father belonged to, and still does is refined, full of old money. Traditional. My mother showing up with pink high heels would have been considered scandalous.”

“He left her for being different?”

I nodded. “He quietly had divorce papers drawn up, and less than a year later married my robo-stepmother. There is nothing more important to my father than image.” The words rang so true in my head. I hadn’t spoken with the man since I moved. Since he told me I’d f**ked up, and was an embarrassment to him. It wasn’t like I was arrested for DUI. My wife cheated on me, and yes it made the papers. Shouldn’t a father be supportive and be there for a son in a situation like that? Not mine. Nope. Out of sight, out of mind.