Page 69 of The Fake Affair

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, accent thick with pride. “Strong like your mum.”

The engagement ring catches the afternoon light as I reach for another wedding magazine. We’re in no rush—being engaged is enough for now. Besides, running a marketing agency while raising a baby keeps me busy enough without adding wedding planning to the mix.

“Speaking of strong women,” I say. “My mom called. She’s coming up next weekend.”

“To help with venues?”

“To spoil her granddaughter and criticize your coffee-making technique.”

He grins. “She still hasn’t forgiven me for the French press incident?”

“You’re lucky she loves you anyway.”

It’s true. After the initial revelation that her daughter’s boss and boyfriend were the same person—and that said person had gotten her daughter pregnant—Mom came around and has never looked away since.

Especially after seeing Logan with Sienna. “He’s nothing like his father,” she’d told me on her last visit. “He’s exactly what you both needed.”

My phone pings with a client notification. Even with a team of twenty now, I still handle certain accounts personally. Especially the ones that used to be Monarch Ventures clients.

“Poaching my clients again?” Logan asks, noticing my smile.

“They came to me.” I set the tablet aside. “Something about preferring a CEO who doesn’t terrify them.”

“I’m not terrifying anymore.”

“No,” I agree, watching him make faces at our daughter. “Just thoroughly whipped.”

He starts to protest, but Sienna reaches up just then to grab his nose, and his besotted expression proves my point.

The door opens, revealing a pregnant Audrey—her second baby. She wants to get all her babies out, all at once. “Don’t you two ever work?”

“Some of us can delegate now,” I say, getting up to hug her. “Nice of you to waddle over.”

“I don’t waddle. I gracefully gestate.” She settles onto the couch, hands on her belly. “Besides, someone needs to make sure you actually plan this wedding instead of just playing around.”

“We’re not playing,” Logan protests, but he’s grinning as our daughter crawls toward her aunt.

“Really? Because that ring’s been sitting on her finger for five months, and you still haven’t picked a venue.”

“We’re busy,” I say, watching Sienna attempt to scale Audrey’s leg. “Some of us run successful companies.”

Audrey helps her onto her lap. “When can we expect another little Fraser?”

Logan’s head snaps up, and the heat in his gaze makes my cheeks flush. We might not be rushing the wedding, but we’ve certainly been practicing baby making.

“Don’t you have a husband to take care of?” he asks.

“You know, the usual. He’s in surgery.” Audrey helps Sienna stand, supporting her wobbly legs. “Besides, this is more fun. Look how good you two are at it.”

Our daughter chooses that moment to take her first steps, tottering from Audrey to Logan. The look on his face—pure joy mixed with terror—reminds me how far we’ve come from that first night on the terrace.

“That’s it, princess,” he encourages, Scottish accent full force like it always is with her. “Come to Da.”

She makes it three steps before plopping down, but Logan’s grin could power Manhattan. Sometimes, it hits me all at once—how different this is from his own childhood, how healing happens in the smallest moments.

“You’re staring,” he says later after Audrey leaves and Sienna’s down for her nap.

“Just thinking.”

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