Page 114 of My Destiny
She leans down and places a soft kiss on the top of my head, just like my mother used to do. “It’ll all work out. Just have faith.”
Her words do nothing to calm me. If anything, they only increase my uneasiness. I don’t want this to come between me and Logan, so I’ll be polite, but having a relationship with that man is the furthest thing from my mind. It’s twenty-five years too late, as far as I’m concerned.
Standing, I head into the kitchen and pour myself a glass of wine. I’m not much of a drinker, but I manage to consume the entire contents of my glass in two gulps before pouring myself a second one. I plan on drinking this one slowly; I just needed something to take the edge off.
I’m busy setting the table when they finally arrive. “Hey, babe,” Logan says, crossing the room to plant a chaste kiss on my lips. He has a suitcase in his hand, which I presume is John’s.
“Hey. Dinner is prepared, I’m just setting the table.” My eyes remain on Logan. I can’t bring myself to look in John’s direction.
“Hi, Brooke,” he finally says, and my gaze darts to him. He looks much better than the last time I saw him. In his hands, he’s holding a wooden box about the size of a shoebox. The sweet smile on his face has my stomach in knots. I’m in two minds; for Logan’s sake I’m glad he’s here, but I feel like I’m doing an injustice to my mother.
“Hi, John.” My eyes are cast down to the floor as I speak.
“I appreciate you letting me stay here until I can make other arrangements.”
My eyes move back to him, and I force a smile as I nod. I don’t trust myself to speak. “Jill made up the room at the top of the stairs,” I say as my attention moves back to Logan. “I’ll get dinner dished up, if you want to take his things to the room.” I don’t even wait for a reply before turning and heading towards the kitchen.
Minutes pass as I busy myself placing the prepared food onto plates. I’m so lost in thought that I don’t hear Logan enter. He startles me when his arms slide around my waist from behind.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I lie, glancing at him over my shoulder.
“Remember our deal?”
“Yes. Honestly, stop worrying. I’m good.”
“Okay.” I can hear the uncertainty in his voice, but I’m grateful that he doesn’t take this any further. Instead, he places a soft kiss on my cheek. “Let me help you with these.”
“That one is John’s,” I say, pointing to his plate. The less I have to interact with him, the better. “And that one is yours.”
He picks them both up and heads towards the dining room. I take in a few large breaths as I prepare myself to sit down for a meal with a man I have absolutely no respect for. I usually love this time of day, when Logan and I get to unwind as we share stories of our day. The way I’m feeling right now, I’ll be lucky if I can keep my food down.
“How was your day, babe?” Logan asks the minute I’m seated.
“Good. Busy.” I shrug. I’m usually more detailed, but tonight I feel awkward talking about myself in front of John. I don’t want him to know anything about my life. My eyes move to Logan, and I find him watching me intently. I’m not good at stuff like this. I thought I’d be able to fake it through the next week or so, but now I’m not so sure.
“How are the plans for the concert coming along?”
“Good,” I say. “It’s chaotic, but an organised chaos, if that makes sense.” I force a smile. “How was your day?”
My eyes dart to John as I await a reply from Logan, and I find him looking straight at me. I want to tell him to stop, but I don’t. “My day was pretty uneventful.”
“Your sister called me this morning; she wants to do lunch one day this week.”
“That’s nice,” Logan says, his face lighting up. “I’m glad you two are getting along.”
“She’s a good egg, that one,” John adds, trying to insert himself into our conversation. I begin eating, hoping that they both follow suit. “This is delicious, by the way. Did you cook this, Brooke?”
“No, Jill did,” I reply with my eyes still focusing on my food. It’s funny; when I was a little girl, before I knew the depths of betrayal this man bestowed upon my mother, I would’ve given anything to sit and have a meal with him.Anything.
“Brooke’s a great cook, though,” Logan says. “You might get to taste some of her cooking while you’re here.”
I clear my throat before shoving a mouth full of food in it.
“I’d like that. Your mum was a great cook too. It must run in the family.”
My head snaps in his direction, and I’m thankful that I’m still chewing because my response to that statement wouldn’t be a pleasant one. How dare he bring her up like that. He has no right to reminisce about my mother after the way he ended things with her.
