Page 69 of The Write Off

He fixes a pointed stare at Logan before raising his wine glass to his lips. “Your father must have been disappointed.”

That’s putting it mildly. My father told Josh that he was throwing his life away and things between them were strained for years. It wasn’t until Dad’s health scare that they talked things out and mended their relationship.

“He did expect him to study law. But once my Dad saw how happy teaching makes him, he understood, and now he couldn’t be more proud of him.”

The cold eyes settle back on me and I hold them, refusing to be the one to look away first.

“Well, tradition is more important to some families than others.” He looks back at his son. “Perhaps Travis will understand that like his father did.”

“Or, maybe,” Logan looks to the ceiling with a humorless laugh. “Just maybe you could restrain yourself from saddling a child with your unrealistic expectations.”

“How can you call them unrealistic? Your brother had no trouble meeting them. He set a perfect example that you refused to follow.”

Logan tenses, but his mouth forms a small, forced smile. I’m not sure how he’s staying so calm, especially as I feel my own anger building on his behalf. From what he’s told me, I really wouldn’t say that Eric was a perfect example of anything except a complicated and deeply flawed man.

I can practically see his mother’s pulse jump in her elegant neck and her perfect facade slips as she tries to change the subject.

“You’re an author, Rilla?”

“Yes. My debut is set to come out early next year.”

“It’s exceptional,” Logan says, placing his hand over mine on the table. The warmth from his hand travels straight to my heart because I know that he means it. “It’s the first in a six-book series.”

His father’s eyes narrow at me. “So I take it you have no plans for children anytime soon.”

My chin drops to my chest, but I close it quickly, attempting to mask my shock at his bold assumption. Logan opens his mouth, but I squeeze his fingers and say, “No. No plans for the near future.”

“Forgive me if that seemed intrusive, Ms. Pine. But we already had one son get trapped by an opportunistic social climber. You understand our trepidation.”

I feel Logan tense and deep down I know that this is about them and not me. That I should keep my mouth shut and let him deal with the arrogant asshole who raised him. But staying silent is not my forte and, as usual, I react.

“Forgive me if I’m making assumptions, but from what I understand your son married Shannon because he wanted to. Though, given how loosely he took his marriage vows, he didn’t sound like much of a prize to me. And that opportunistic social climber made you a grandfather, so maybe you should show her a modicum of respect.”

His face darkens, turning a shade of purple I’ve never witnessed in nature.

“How dare–”

“How fucking dare you. I have no idea how you had a career as a doctor because your bedside manner absolutely sucks. You think your career makes you better than everyone else? That those two initials that come after your name mean you can treat people however you want and get away with it? Didn’t you take an oath to do no harm? And yet here you are, hurling insults and hurting people like that’s your true vocation. In the few sentences you’ve spoken to me, you’ve insulted me, my family, and, worst of all, your own son, who I happen to love. He has more talent, strength, and compassion in his left thumb than you have in your entire soulless body and I’m half-tempted to spread my legs and let him breed me in this tacky-ass restaurant just to piss you off.”

I push myself back, grab my wine glass, and, without a backward glance, storm off towards the exit. I down the wine on my way, handing the empty glass to the speechless hostess before pushing open the door.

My throat burns as I inhale. I almost feel like I could open my mouth and breathe fire like the dragons in my books. It’s an unseasonably cold May night and the brisk air assaults me, clearing my head and my senses. The gravity of what I’ve just done sinks in, the weight of it almost bringing me to my knees. My eyes fill with tears and I start to walk, not sure where I’m even going.

How? How did Logan, my Logan, come from that? That man is so hateful, so cruel, one would think any of his offspring would have horns, or at least a tail.

And how is it that I was only able to finally say the words I’ve been holding back for weeks in the same breath I used to implode our relationship?

All I had to do was get through one meal. One stupid meal with his stupid parents and I couldn’t even manage that. I couldn’t sit there and say nothing while that man tore down the best thing that’s ever been mine.

“Rilla!” I hear Logan yelling at me, but I don’t turn around. I’m not ready to face him after my outburst. I quicken my pace, but I can’t possibly outrun those long legs, especially in these stupid high-heeled boots.

He catches up to me in moments, but I can’t look at him.

“I’m sorry, Logan.” I stare at his chest. His coat is unbuttoned, his dark blue shirt looks almost black in the moonlight. “I’m so sorry. That man is something else and I just couldn’t swallow his specific brand of bullshit. I guess I was right. I knew deep down that I was going to fuck this up and I succeeded, spectacularly.” My teeth chatter violently as I stand there, waiting for him to put me out of my misery and end this.

He drapes my coat around my shoulders and pulls me into his chest, his hands rubbing my arms in an attempt to warm me.

“How did you grow up with that poor excuse for a human? That’s the kind of parent that creates serial killers. Wait: Are you a secret serial killer? Is this some sort of long con where you make your victims fall for you and then you cut their hearts out? I saw something like that on Dateline once.”

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