Nadine
Oh goodness, I’ve made him mad. The way his hand is tightly clenched on the steering wheel, his knuckles white, and his face set in a tense, unreadable expression-it’s clear I’ve struck a nerve.
“Logan,” I say softly, reaching out to take his free hand in mine. His other hand remains firm on the wheel. “Did I say something wrong?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he starts the car.
He rolls up the window now that the scent of our earlier escapade is gone, and he switches on the air conditioning.
I glance over at him, desperate for some hint of what’s going through his mind. He keeps driving, and I begin to feel uneasy.
I’ve asked him several times where we’re going, but he refuses to tell me, keeping me in suspense.
Even so, he doesn’t pull his hand away from mine. And I absentmindedly trace circles on his skin with my thumb.
“Logan,” I say again. “What is it? Please talk to me.”
Finally, he turns to me, and then he gives me a breathtaking smile, so dazzling it steals the air from my lungs.
I swear I forget how to breathe as I stare at him, completely captivated.
“What the hell?” I blurt out, feigning anger to cover up the way my heart just skipped a beat. “Why did you do that?”
He bursts out laughing, a rich, deep laugh that fills the car. He throws his head back slightly, the tension from before melting away.
“You should have seen your face,” he says, with amusement. “It was like you wanted to crawl out of the moving car.”
I narrow my eyes at him, though I can’t hide the small smile tugging at my lips.
“You’re impossible,” I mutter, shaking my head.
He made me believe he was genuinely angry about what I said earlier. I playfully smack his chest.
“Stop it, Logan! I thought you were mad at me for what I said.”
“Ouch!” he exclaims dramatically, clutching his chest like I’ve mortally wounded him.
“I’ll report you to Florence,” he says with an exaggerated pout.
Oh, God. He looks so adorable-just like Shawn. This is exactly the kind of face Shawn would make when he was trying to be cute.
“I’m sure she’d want to know why I did that,” I reply, feigning seriousness as I glare at him. “And don’t do that again.”
He chuckles, “Seriously, I can’t stay mad at you for long. I just wanted to see your reaction.” He takes my hand and brings it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on my skin.
I smile widely, in relief. He’s not mad at me.
But then, as if remembering something, he speaks again. “To answer your question…”
Before he can continue, I slap my hands over my ears. I don’t want to hear his answer.
The idea of him having done something like this in the car with another woman makes my stomach churn.
He mumbles something, but I can’t make out the words because my hands are firmly covering my ears.
When I glance at him, he’s throwing his head back, laughing again, his rich, carefree laughter.
Finally, I release my hands and turn to him, narrowing my eyes.
“Do I sense jealousy?” he asks, he is suddenly serious, with his eyes fixed on mine.
“I… I’m n-not jealous,” I stammer, though my heart tightens in my chest, betraying me.
Logan takes my hand again, this time holding it gently as he places another soft kiss on my skin.
“You might not believe this, but I’ve never had sex with any woman in a car before. You’re my first,” he says with a calm, sincere voice.
I blink at him, searching his face for any hint of dishonesty, but all I see is genuine honesty in his expression.
Truth be told, I’ve never seen Logan as a playboy.
He seemed grounded, with a good head on his shoulders. Sure, he was cold and distant when we first started together, but now… he’s different.
Still, I’m curious. “Am I the first woman you’ve had sex with in a car… or the first woman you’ve ever had sex with?”
He suddenly shifts his focus back to the road, with a small smile playing on his lips.
“You know what? Forget it,” I joke, trying to lighten the moment.
“Would you believe me if I told you yes? That you’re the first woman I’ve ever made love to-both in the car and… ever?”
His jaw tightens slightly as if he’s revealing a part of himself he’s not entirely comfortable sharing.
My mouth falls open, and for once, I’m at a loss for words. How do I even process that?
I try to make sense of it, my thoughts racing. ‘What about Samantha? Does this mean he and Samantha never…?’
As if reading my thoughts, Logan breaks the silence. “I know what you’re thinking,” he says, his voice cutting through my internal spiral.
“Sure you do,” I reply with a small, teasing smile.
He exhales deeply, glancing at me briefly before returning his eyes to the road.
“We never had sex. We only… made out. But she always had an excuse-some reason or another. And when we got together,” he says, gesturing subtly between us, “I didn’t see the need to take things further with her. Even when she offered.”
His words leave me stunned. I stare at him, unable to hide my awe. Logan and Samantha.
She was his first love-so I’d heard. Yet they’d never crossed that line.
I don’t say it out loud, but the thought lingers. ‘Why? Why didn’t they go that far?’
As if answering the unspoken question, he adds, “It’s because she’s gay.”
“Wow,” I whisper, struggling to process it.
“That’s… unexpected.” I try to picture Samantha, the woman who left Logan at the altar, now knowing the truth about her. It all starts to make sense.
“That’s why she didn’t go through with the wedding, isn’t it?” I ask softly.
Logan nods. “Yeah,” he says quietly.
Without thinking, I reach over and take his hand, pressing a soft kiss to it.
It’s my way of saying I’m here, that I understand, even if I don’t fully know the depth of what he’s been through.
Soon, the car slows as Logan steers into the parking lot of a luxury restaurant.
It’s grand, the kind of place that screams sophistication, with gleaming glass windows and pristine decor.
My eyes widen at the sight-I’m sure the food here will cost an arm and a leg.
Logan parks, turning to me with that ever-present calmness.
He steps out first, rounding the car to open my door like a true gentleman. I place my hand in his, letting him help me out.
We walk side by side, his hand resting protectively on the small of my back.
The hostess at the door greets us with a practiced smile and polished tone. “Good evening. Welcome.”
“Mr. West, this way, please,” another hostess says, leading us toward a reserved table.
She gestures to a corner table with a breathtaking view of the city skyline. The lights twinkle like stars against the glass, forming a magical glow over everything.
“Here you are,” she says, stepping aside.
I take a moment to absorb the sight, my breath catching in my throat.
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper, turning to Logan, who’s watching me with that small, knowing smile.
Logan pulls out a chair for me. “Thank you,” I say softly as I take my seat, my eyes meeting him briefly before he sits across from me.
Soon, our food arrives, and we begin eating. The conversation flows effortlessly, with jokes and laughter. It feels like we’re slowly getting to know each other better.
We talked about almost everything-how he felt the first time he saw me, why he decided to enter into a contract marriage with me, and, surprisingly, why he used Nathalie to come between Jake and me.
As he explains, I sit there, absorbing every word.
I had no idea I’d been kept in the dark about so much when it came to Jake and Nathalie.
Logan tells me that Jake and I had met first, but somehow, Jake crossed paths with Nathalie later, mistaking her for me.
They ended up getting involved-deeply involved.
By the time Jake realized the truth, it was too late. Nathalie had already developed strong feelings for him.
Logan knew about the entire mess. He knew Jake wanted something he couldn’t have. He also knew Nathalie wanted Jake.
It was a tangled web of desires, and Logan and Nathalie decided to plan everything out to their advantage.
As he speaks, I can see the pain in his eyes. This isn’t an easy story for him to tell, and hearing it isn’t easy for me either.
Suddenly, Logan goes still, his entire posture rigid. His eyes lock onto something-or someone-behind me. His jaw clenched tightly, and his hand forms into a fist on the table.
“Logan?” I whisper.
But he doesn’t respond.
I slowly turn my head to see what has him so worked up.
The moment I see it, my jaw drops.