Chapter 195

In the Christoper’s kitchen, Frank and I wait by the oven for the pizza to heat up. We were quiet for a long while, listening to the creak of the oven as it heated up.

Then, out of nowhere, Frank looked at me and said, “We approve of your relationship with Logan.”

I startled so hard that I had to place a hand on the counter to keep from falling over. “How did you know?”

Frank gave me a flat look. “Did you think you could hide the way you smile when you talk about him? At first we thought you might just have a crush. But seeing the way he looks at you… We might have been separated from Logan for a time, but we still raised him. We know what love looks like on his face.”

I couldn’t hide my smile now, as I slowly recovered myself.

“Do you deny it?” Frank asked.

“No,” I replied. “Logan is very special to me.” I wasn’t ready yet to tell him about our being married. That felt like something I would need to discuss with Logan before we shared with his family.

“I thought so,” Frank said. He placed a fatherly hand on my shoulder. “In that case, let me say again. Tammy and I absolutely approve.”

After having to hide my true relationship with Logan for so long, feeling seen like this made my heart squeeze in my chest. I’d wanted this. To be seen. To be accepted. It almost hurt with how good it felt.

“Hazel. It’s okay…” Frank said.

I must have started to cry.

Frank wrapped his arm around my shoulder and I curled into him, crying on his shoulder.

“Thank you,” I whispered through my sniffling.

He patted my back as a father would do. “There’s no need for that.”

If my own father had been like this, I could only imagine how happy my childhood would have been. Instead, my parents treated me with cool indifference, doting my sister while ignoring me.

“Thank you,” I said again, but there was a need for it. Frank should know how grateful I was to have him and Tammy and Logan in my life.

They were something like a family to me now. It might have taken me a long time to find them, but I wouldn’t trade them.

Logan and I stayed at the Christopher’s for most of the day, catching up, trading stories and hugs. Tears were shed, but laughter spread too. The entire visit was positive and fun.

We returned to my apartment in the evening. I couldn’t stop stealing glances at Logan. I’d never seen him so happy.

A few steps inside, he pulled me into his arms and swung me around, my feet dangling in the air. We both laughed. When he lowered me back down to my feet, he dropped his lips to mine and kissed me.

After, he pressed his forehead to mine. “Thank you for this, Hazel.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You made this happen. Without you… I wouldn’t have my foster parents back. I wouldn’t feel like this.”

I looked up at him. “How do you feel?”

“Like I could take on anything, even my grandfather.”

I leaned back to see his face more fully. He appeared genuine. “Do you mean it?”

“Yes,” he said. “Though it’s not as simple as telling him off. I’m going to need to time to put together a plan.”

“Okay,” I said, my spirits lifted. If Logan was ready to take on his grandfather, maybe that meant that soon, we wouldn’t have to hide our relationship anymore.

Closing my eyes, I tried to imagine being able to hold Logan’s hand or kiss him in public, without worrying about who might see or what the newspapers might print.

It almost felt like fantasy, after all the hardships we’d been through. A life like that by now seemed like it couldn’t be real.

“Soon,” Logan said, as if reading my thoughts, and kissed me again.

Separating, we removed our shoes and our coats and walked into the kitchen.

“I’m thinking of making popcorn,” Logan said. “Do you want to watch a movie?”

“Can you work a microwave?” I asked, teasing, remembering the disaster he’d caused when he’d tried cooking dinner for me.

He glared at me but quickly we both smiled, in on the game. “I think I can manage some popcorn.”

“Alright,” I said. “What movie do you want to watch?”

“Anything,” he said, “So long as I get to have a beautiful woman sitting beside me on the couch while we watch it.”

I blushed. He winked at me.

I couldn’t remember a time in my life when I was ever this happy.

Dylan hated these high society parties more than anyone he knew. Even Logan had seemed to acclimate to them more than Dylan ever had. Sure, Dylan could play the parts he was supposed to play well enough. A lot of his clientele was here, so he knew how to schmooze with the best of them.

But, truth known, these high society types more often than not were insufferable bores. How often could Dylan hear about their stock portfolios and not roll his eyes. That stock went down two points? Everyone has troubles, buddy.

He’d much rather be down at the corner bar, hearing about real life from steel mill retirees or the soldiers or even the retail workers sick of all the self-obsessed customers that walk through their doors.

Those people could be liars too, likely exaggerating things to make for better stories, but they were infinitely more honest than the high society folk in this ballroom. No one here could admit to any flaws. Everything here was perfect – except for the occasional dip in stock.

That Dylan was still in business told me that wasn’t true. People here just liked to pretend for each other. In secret, their lives were a hot mess.

After hearing how someone bought their third yacht and how great it was to have three, Dylan excused himself to head to the bar for a refill to his whiskey sour.

Across the room, Logan’s grandfather had accrued a large following, as per usual. Everyone was always trying to get in good with the richest and most powerful man in the room. Nothing new about that.

What was new, however, was the sight of Tina St. Claire, leaving her typical group of female socialites. She was headed straight for Mr. Hatfield, her eyes on him like a tractor beam.

That couldn’t be good.

“I’ll be right back for that,” Dylan told the bartender and then started walking. He couldn’t run without drawing attention but he moved as fast as he could.

Fortunately, he stepped into Tina’s path right as she was about to walk into Mr. Hatfield’s outward circle of yes men.

“Tina, there you are,” Dylan said smoothly. “I’d been hoping we could speak tonight.”

Tina narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t have time for you right now. Excuse me.”

She tried to take a step to the left, but Dylan stepped to his right, blocking her.

Dropping any pretense of politeness, Tina openly glared at him. “Get out of my way, Dylan.”

Her intentions were obvious, and Dylan wasn’t about to back down.

“If you want to get around me, Tina, you’ll have to go through me,” I said. “I won’t make it easy.”

Logan owed him a hundred favors for this.