“Did you discover any gold?”
She laughs. “So much.” We wander along the path, trees canopying us overhead. “I loved visiting Savannah. All that history and those spooky old mansions.”
“Savannah feels like it’s teeming with stories. Like you walk down one block and there are a thousand tales in those homes.”
“Yes, exactly.”
I squeeze her fingers, a small burst of nerves in me as I ask the next question. “Where would you go with me if we went on a road trip?”
She tilts her face, meeting my gaze. “I’d like to go on a train with you. Maybe even across Canada. One of those seven-day trips where you see all the towns and take in the countryside. Get a sleeper car.”
“Not a road trip?” I ask, surprised.
She shakes her head. “I love them, but I’d want it to be fresh and new with you. To feel like what I love, but different too. Know what I mean?”
I drop a kiss onto her cheek, understanding perfectly. “I do.”
We cross Bethesda Terrace, and briefly I wonder if we’ll run into anyone from work. If we’ll see someone we know before we have a chance to come out. But it’s just us, two people in a sea of millions.
There will be time to do this the right way, and the weekend is not that time. I lace our fingers tighter, my heart thumping harder, enjoying this escape. “So, Miss Baseball Fan. I can get us hockey tickets tonight, but I have a feeling you’d rather see the Yankees. Want me to try to get tickets for the ball game?”
She pants, her eyes lighting up. “I’ll get on my knees for that.”
“Done.”
I make some calls, snag some tickets, and take her to the game. She’s rowdy and waves a blue foam finger and cheers the loudest from our section. The Bronx Bombers win, and on the way home, I’ve arranged for a town car.
With the partition up, she makes good on her promise.
She takes me deep, and I thrust hard, fucking her mouth, holding her head, telling her how good she is at this, then flooding her throat with my release.
After, we swing by her place to grab a change of clothes and feed her cat. Then she comes over and spends the night before she has to leave for Los Angeles late Sunday night for a work trip.
In the morning, when I wake, I tug her back to my chest and slide inside her, fucking her slowly and sensually, but still gripping her tight, controlling her pleasure, and giving it to her how she wants.
So she doesn’t have to think.
So she only has to feel.
It’s the perfect weekend.
So perfect, it feels like this is the true kismet.
Later, as I make her lunch, I draw a breath, ready to take another step with this woman.
“Would you want to meet Amelia later this week? After you return from your trip?”
Her green eyes shine with delight. “I’d love to. But are you sure?”
“I’m positive. It would mean a lot to me. I want you in my life, Bryn. I want you to meet my daughter.”
“I want to be in your life, and I do want to meet her.” She clears her throat. “But how are we doing this? This whole disclosure thing? This weekend is like a dream, but we have to face reality.”
I turn off the stove, plate the pasta and veggies, and sit across from her at the table. “I can talk to HR tomorrow and work on it.”
She inhales deeply. “I want to be there though. It’s important to me to do this together. To be in this together. I return from California Wednesday afternoon.”
“Of course. So we do it on Thursday. That’s the day I’m heading to the West Village offices to check in and meet with everyone. We’ll make it a double, since we’re seeing Casey that evening for our meeting.”
She wiggles her brows. “We disclose, and we date. That sounds totally unsexy, but with you, I know it’ll be hot.”
“And so much more.” I set down my fork, meeting her gaze. “It’s more than dating. You know that, right?”
She swallows a little nervously. “What is it, Logan?”
What I’m about to say ought to scare me. It should be terrifying. But it’s not at all. I feel free with her. I feel safe with her. I feel trust with her. “I’m falling in love with you,” I tell her, and it feels so damn good.
Then it feels ten million times better when she says, “I’m falling in love with you too.”
28LOGAN
As I end my final work call on Tuesday, I hang up the phone with panache, hold my arms out wide, and stare happily at the little person patiently waiting on the other side of my desk, flipping through an old Far Side comic.
“I’m done now. All done,” I say.
Amelia holds up a finger, speaking quietly under her breath. “Blah, blah, blah, Ginger.”
