And had she really asked Logan to marry her?
God, she’d seen real fear in his eyes.
She shoved her head under the pillow and hoped the world would disappear. It didn’t. Light filtered in through the curtains, but everything was still quiet in the house.
Last night she’d thought he might come after her, attempt to continue the conversation, and she’d lain awake for a long time. Finally the slam of his bedroom door along the hallway hinted that he wasn’t coming. That should have settled her, but she’d tossed and turned. When she finally fell asleep, it was only to land in the middle of a nightmare—Logan making out with the stripper she’d seen him with that time at the club, all fake red hair and huge fake breasts. Abby had tried to run away, but somehow she was handcuffed to the bed. “You wanted to marry me,” Logan had sneered in her dream. “Do you really think a man like me will be satisfied with someone like you?”
She punched the pillow. God, she was screwed up and a total goddamn cliché. And now she felt tired and cranky and she had to go to work. Jenny was spending the day with Logan, and no doubt they would have a fabulous time together without her, because she was a miserable, boring bitch.
Anyway, it was Logan’s fault. How could he have asked her to move in, especially after what she’d just told him? She was quite aware that, once again, she had totally overreacted. But then, Logan had that effect on her, made her behave in ways she had never thought she would, like some sort of bad-tempered, uncontrollable harpy.
Who’d asked him to marry her.
She didn’t even want to marry him. He was totally unsuitable husband material. He’d never fit in with her lifestyle or her friends.
Except he was doing a pretty good job of being a father to Jenny.
And she’d hurt him. She hadn’t thought she had that power. But her reaction to his proposition had come as a shock to him. Maybe he was used to women who would jump at the chance. And if she was honest, if it wasn’t for Jenny, perhaps she would have jumped, taken what she could get of him, for as long as she could, and dealt with her broken heart at the end of it. But Jenny was there, and Abby knew now that if she allowed herself to get in any deeper, the inevitable breakup would be that much harder, and she needed to be able act as though it didn’t matter—for Jenny’s sake. Which meant living with him was not an option.
In fact, from now on, she was maintaining a distance. She’d let this go way too far.
The sound of a door banging told her that someone was up. Time to go out and face the day. She struggled out of bed and into the shower. The water revived her a little, though not enough. She tugged on clean clothes, but she couldn’t be bothered with makeup or doing anything fancy with her hair so just pulled it up into a ponytail.
Voices drifted out from the kitchen as she came downstairs. She hesitated, took a deep breath, and pushed open the door. The voices stopped as she entered. Jenny was at the table still in her pajamas. Logan stood at the stove with his back to her, dressed in faded jeans and a gray T-shirt. His feet were bare. In her black pantsuit, she felt the odd one out. So what was new?
“Dad’s making bacon and eggs,” Jenny said.
She nodded, sinking down opposite her. What she really needed was coffee, lots and lots of really strong coffee. She could smell it somewhere, and she glanced around, her gaze finally settling on the coffee pot across the room. She was pushing herself up as Logan turned. He brought a plate of food and placed it in front of Jenny. It looked perfectly cooked—she was impressed.
“You can cook?” she said.
He gave her a cool look that told her he hadn’t forgiven her for last night. “What? You think a man like me wouldn’t be able to cook?”
She flashed him a warning look—she didn’t want Jenny picking up any of their bad vibes—but Jenny giggled. “Mum can’t cook anything but toast, and she usually burns that.”
Logan grinned. “Really. Little Miss Perfect can’t cook?”
Jenny giggled again, while Abby gritted her teeth and forced a smile.
“You want some?” Logan asked.
Her stomach churned at the thought. “Just coffee, please.”
He crossed the room, poured her a mug, and placed it in front of her. She hung her head over it and breathed in the fumes.