I shake my head. “But I didn’t want to be kissed.” I blow out a huge breath. I feel as though someone pulled the stopper on a big balloon inside me. “Go to bed, Trip. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
Trip nods, unsteady on his feet. He goes into his room and closes the door.
I draw in a deep breath, and Logan pulls me into him. I let him hold me because I think he needs it even more than I do. I step back and shake out my hand. I really hit Trip pretty hard, and my palm is still stinging.
“What did he do?” Logan bites out.
I shake my head. He’s not going to stop asking until I tell him. “He tried to kiss me. That’s all.” He lays his thumb on my lips.
“He kissed you?” he asks, his voice soft and reverent. His eyes search mine and I know he’s watching all my nonverbal cues.
“No,” I clarify, shaking my head. “He tried to kiss me. That’s a very different thing.” I unclip the barrette from my hair and brush it out with my fingers as I kick off my shoes. “What are you doing here?” I finally ask.
“I was worried about you,” he admits. His face is stony. “With good reason, apparently.”
I wrap my arms around his waist and hug him tightly. “I’m so glad you’re here.” He helps me shrug out of my coat, and his hands on my arms are freezing. “Why are you so cold?” I ask.
“I rode the bike over here,” he admits.
“A bike?”
“A motorcycle, really,” he goes on to explain.
“You have a motorcycle?” I had no idea he owned a motorcycle.
“It’s Paul’s. He let me borrow it.” He tips my head to the side to look at my neck. “What the f**k is that?” he barks.
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
“It’s not nothing, Emily.” He growls, and I expect to see him pound on his chest like an ape any second. That would be kind of hot, actually.
I don’t want to talk about it anymore. “I’m glad you’re here,” I say. “Can you help me get out of this dress?” I ask because I want to take his mind off my neck and the mark Trip left there.
He points me toward my room and pops me on my butt. “In the bedroom,” he says. He glares at Trip’s door.
“He’s out for the night. He won’t bother us.” I have seen Trip drunk enough times that I’m certain of it. “Can you stay the night?”
He follows me into the bedroom and closes and locks the door behind us. With a pensive look, he pulls my lower lip from between my teeth with the pad of his thumb. I hadn’t even realized I was biting it.
“You have no idea how much I wanted to kill him when I saw his hands on you,” he says.
“Not nearly as much as I wanted to.” I turn my back to Logan, and he slides the zipper down slowly. He pushes my hair over my shoulder and presses his lips to my shoulder, making me go all quivery on the inside. “What made you come here?” I ask.
He shrugs. “I didn’t want to sleep without you.” He tweaks my nose as he starts to unbutton his shirt. He hangs it over the back of a chair, shaking the wrinkles out of it. The racks holding the clothes my mom sent over are still in the corner. “You know,” he says. “I was talking with Henry downstairs. Did you know his wife is so ill she’s in a nursing home?”
I gasp. I had no idea. “Is she all right?” I ask.
“He goes there every night to sleep because he says he can’t sleep without her.” He smiles and tips my chin up. “I want us to be like them when we grow up.” He grins.
“I think we already are them,” I say. It’s true. We are. I am not sure I could live without Logan at this point.
He undresses completely and slips between my sheets. I get ready to pull a T-shirt over my head, my back to him when he complains.
“No, leave that off,” he says, his voice gruff. I shrug, turn the lights down but not off, and climb into bed with him. And then he shows me all the reasons why I never want to sleep in a bed away from him ever again. And then he shows me even more reasons when he pulls me into his arms and holds me close all night long.
Logan
I like having her legs spread around me. I like it more than I should. Her arms are wrapped around my waist, and her face rests against my back. I made her wear the helmet, but we’re only going around the corner so I can drop her off at Julliard, so I’m not too worried about getting caught without one. I pull up in front of the building where her first class is located and kill the engine.
“Do you want me to walk with you to class?” I ask as she gets off the bike and unclips the helmet. She holds it out to me and smiles, shaking her head.
“I can find it.” She leans forward and presses her lips to mine. I pull her closer, not ready to give her up yet. She’s looking all fresh faced and excited with her hair up in a ponytail and her backpack slung over her shoulders. She says something against my lips, and I sit back so I can see her face.
Thanks for the ride, she signs.
You’re very welcome. God, she’s so pretty.
She grins and blushes. Thanks for the one last night, too.
I go hard immediately. Be careful, I warn.
Or what? she teases.
I jerk her to me with a quick tug to her scarf, and she laughs. I can feel the quake of her stomach against my hip. I f**king love you so much, I say. I can’t seem to stop telling her.
She rolls her eyes, kisses me quickly and says, I just love it when you get all romantic. I love you, too.
I spin her toward her building and tap her on the ass. I have something I need to take care of this morning. Something really important. She waves at me as she walks away, her fingers barely moving. Then she holds up the I love you sign, and I know my name is written right below it.
I stop at home so that I can shower and change. I want to look nice when I go to her father. I need to explain to him, man-to-man, why Emily isn’t going to be staying at her apartment, or at least not until Trip’s gone. That mark on her neck is inexcusable. It’s like he was trying to brand her, even though she’s mine. And I simply can’t tolerate that. What would have happened if I hadn’t shown up when I did?
Paul is just getting up when I come out of the bathroom. “Glad to see you’re back to normal,” he says, smiling at me over a cup of coffee.
I tell Paul about what happened at the party with the model, about Emily’s father, and about what Trip did just before I got to Emily’s apartment last night.
He shakes his head. “That’s f**ked up,” he says. “What are you going to do?”
I heave a sigh. “I think I have to go and talk to her father. Today.”
He nods. It’s slow but still a nod. He’s hesitant, and I don’t understand why.
“What?” I ask.
“He’s not going to approve no matter what you do. He wants a certain life for her.”
“Emily can’t read,” I blurt out.
Paul spits into his coffee. “What?” he sputters.
“She can read,” I correct. “She knows what letters are and how to spell words, but she has dyslexia. Reading is really, really hard for her. That’s why her father wants her to marry. That’s why he doesn’t want her to have an education and thinks she should just marry some rich douchebag. He doesn’t think she’s worth any more than that.”“Ouch,” he says. That’s what Paul says when he wants to mull over a tender topic.
“You won’t tell her I told you about not being able to read, will you? She hides it really well.”
He inhales deeply. “I already knew. I’ve seen her read to Hayley.” He looks into my face. “Is that why you spoke to her?” I went eight years without saying a word. And she made me want to talk again.
I nod. “She couldn’t read what I wrote down.”
“You talked to her all along didn’t you?” He smiles, but it’s only a half-smile.
“Pretty much from the day that I met her,” I admit. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” I feel bad now. I went years without speaking. “You guys all made it really easy for me to retreat and not speak since you all learned to sign.”
“You’re f**king deaf, dumbass. What else were we going to do?”
A lot of deaf families never learn sign language. “I’m sorry,” I repeat. “It was easier being quiet.”
“She doesn’t make anything easy for you, does she?”
“What? She makes everything easy for me. I didn’t even choose to talk. It just happened.” I smile. She turns me inside out. “I love her so f**king much.”
“I know you want to be a man about this, but her father’s going to fight you the whole way.”
“I know.” I wish that wasn’t the case. “But I feel like I need to be open with him.”
“You’re going to get a fat f**king headache from banging your head against that wall.”
“She had to wear a scarf to school today to cover up her neck.”
“Fucker,” Paul swears.
Sam walks into the kitchen in boxer shorts and a T-shirt, scratching his belly. “Morning,” he says as he goes to the coffeepot.
Something is going on with Sam and Pete, Paul signs behind his back. You know about it?
What? I ask
They’ve been hanging out with Bone.
Why? My movements are exaggerated. I’m suddenly pissed.
They deny it. But I hear things. He shrugs. Just wanted to see if you knew anything about it.
I don’t know anything about it. I’ve been a little preoccupied. Sorry. Want me to look into it?
He shakes his head. I’ll do it.
Sam turns to face us. “You guys were talking about my ass, weren’t you?” He grins. “I know it’s awesome, but try to contain yourselves.”
Sam makes me laugh. He has this way about him. “Sam, do you think you could make dinner tomorrow night? I want to invite Emily’s parents over.”
Paul sputters into his coffee again. “Here?” he asks.
I nod. “I want them to see what our family is like. In person.”
“Why do I have to cook?” Sam whines.
“Because you’re the only one who knows how.” I watch him closely. “Make some lasagna or something.” I put my hands together like in prayer. “Please?”
He huffs and says, “Sure. But you’re going to owe me.”
***
Mr. and Mrs. Madison have a suite at one of the larger hotels in the area. Henry is the one who told me that. How he knew, I have no idea, but that man is sharp as a tack. I stop at the front desk, wringing my hands together as I ask for their room number. I have to get this over with. I have to tell them that Emily won’t be going back to that apartment as long as Trip is there.
The front desk calls their room, and then they write down the room number for me. My knees are steady as the elevator ascends to the highest floor. Of course, they would be on the highest floor. And in a suite.
Mrs. Madison opens the door and lets me. She draws me in for a quick hug. “Is everything all right?” she asks, her eyebrows drawing together.
“Everything is fine,” I say. “Is your husband here? I’d like to talk with him, if it’s not too much trouble.”
She looks at me, her head tilting to the side as she appraises my face. Finally, her mask of indifference slips back over her face. But this woman is anything but indifferent. She points toward an open door.
Mr. Madison sits behind a desk in a room that’s more lavish than any office I’ve ever been in. He looks up and dismisses me immediately when he doesn’t even catch my gaze.
“Logan,” he says. “What brings you here?” He doesn’t look up from his paperwork, but I need to say this anyway.
“Mr. Madison,” I begin. “I need to talk to you.” I point toward the chair. “May I sit down?” He looks up at me over his glasses.
“If you must.” He steeples his hands on his desk. I finally have his attention. Good.
“I wanted to come to you, as one man to another, sir,” I say.
“I believe we’re one man short, son,” he says.
I steel my spine. I really can’t help it if he’s not a man. “Be that as it may, Trip went a little too far with Emily last night.”
He tosses his pen onto the desk, and I watch it flip until it settles. “What are you talking about?”
“Last night, when you dropped Trip and Emily off at her apartment, he tried to kiss her.”
“Just what are you insinuating, Logan?” he asks. “They were engaged, for crying out loud. There’s obviously some chemistry there. It’s bubbling back to the surface.” His gaze is cool. “I know you love her, but let last night prove to you that what they have isn’t dead and gone. It’s still very much alive.”
“Alive?” I ask.
“Yes, alive. He still loves her, and she still cares for him.” He actually looks sorry. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out for you.” He starts to shuffle through his papers again. I’m being dismissed.
“Emily won’t return to the apartment until Trip is moves out.” I scoot forward in my seat until I’m perched on the edge of the chair. “She’s going to live with me. I just wanted to be sure you’re aware.”
He shakes his head. “No, son,” he begins.
“I’m not your son,” I bite out.
“Logan,” he chides, “my daughter will live exactly where I tell her to live.”