Page 78 of Seven of Hearts

“Tell me about it,” I said as I rested my head on his chest and closed my eyes.

Logan’s hand was where it always was—gently caressing my belly whenever he could get his hands on me. It was ridiculously sweet.

“We used to have Thanksgiving at the DeRossis’ house. That was before Will and Kristin built their house next door. Everyone would crowd into Maddie and Luca’s dining room and feast. Now, there’s so many kids between all of the families in their friend group that no one’s house is big enough to hold everyone. If it’s still warm enough to eat outside, we set up folding tables between the two houses, use both kitchens to get all the food done, and meet in the middle. But if the weather plays Jekyll and Hyde and it’s cold, Hannah Jane gets a tent and outdoor heaters from one of the rental companies she uses for her events. After that, everyone naps. The kids bring sleeping bags, and all the guest rooms and couches are taken up. Then everyone wakes up and pulls out the leftovers for dinner. I’m not kidding. Wear slippers.”

I hummed happily. “That sounds awesome.”

“It makes the trip down from Chicago worth it.” Logan found my hand under the covers and laced our fingers together. “What are your Thanksgivings like?”

“Proper. An inconvenient two PM meal of dry turkey, brussel sprouts, and cranberries served on fine china that can only be hand-washed. It’s a heels and pearls dress code. No potatoes because they have too many carbs.”

He grunted in disgust. “Then it’s settled. Thanksgivings are with my family. I could find a pair of size thirteen heels, but I draw the line at no potatoes.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, and it made the baby kick.

Logan’s smile made the corners of his eyes crease as he slid his hand across my belly. “There he is.”

“Promise me there are carbs and I’ll commit to Thanksgivings with your family.”

Logan cupped my cheek and slanted his mouth over mine. “Mashed potatoes and sweet potatoes and macaroni and cheese and stuffing and the best rolls you’ll ever have in your life.”

“Weird way to propose, but okay,” I snickered. “I accept.”

The kiss was soft and light. Not just in feel, but in heart.

We snuggled in bed, soaking in the lazy morning before changing out of our pajamas into pajamas that were more appropriate for company, and heading over to Kristin’s house.

True to what Logan said, rows of folding tables and chairs were set up on the lawn between the Solomons’ and the DeRossis’ houses. The kids were out in full force, having foot races up and down the cul-de-sac. People floated in and out of the houses en masse, carting chafing dishes piled high with food.

I couldn’t help but squeal in delight when I saw the mountain of buttery dinner rolls being carried by Hunter. I clapped my hands over my mouth as Logan opened my door.

He paused and followed my line of sight. With an amused laugh, he said, “Wait here.”

I stared at his ass in those sweatpants as he jogged across the yard, snatched a roll from the top of the pile, and ran back.

“I could have waited,” I said as he handed me the roll then braced my arm to help me out of the car. “I didn’t mean to be high maintenance.”

“Honey, I mean this in the nicest way possible, but you looked like you were about to cry when you saw the rolls. They won’t care.”

“I love bread,” I said as I tore off a piece. It was perfect. Soft like cotton candy, melting on my tongue as soon as I slipped it in my mouth. It was slathered in butter and honey, and completely addictive.

“Miss Leah!” Gio screamed from the end of the cul-de-sac. He bolted over with Ellie hot on his heels. “I missed you!”

I laughed. “I just saw you yesterday. You can’t miss me already.”

“I know. But you make the best waffles. My dad made waffles this morning and they weren’t as good.”

Luca DeRossi, Gio’s father, was a world-renowned chef and restaurateur, which meant his waffles were probably really fancy and gourmet. Mine came from a box mix and only required a little water.

“Well, I’m here now and I’ll see you on Monday, bright and early.”

“Hi, Miss Leah,” Ellie said, much more demurely, as she slid in beside me for a hug. “What size is the baby this week?”

“Still a head of lettuce,” I said as Logan pressed his hand to the small of my back. “We’ll have to wait and see what next week’s vegetable is.”

“Gio! Come on! You’re up!” Asher Brannan shouted from their makeshift starting line.

“Bye, Miss Leah! Bye, Logan!” Gio shouted as he ran off. Ellie was right behind him, because where one went, the other was sure to follow.

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