Modern Romance January 2020 Books 5-8. Heidi Rice
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Their marriage would have ended in October, as Logan had planned from the start. Or would it? He had been so wonderful to her over the last few weeks. Attentive and loving…yes, loving. Surely it wasn’t just an act? There was nobody around to witness it, as Aunt Elsie had extended her holiday, and the other Bellbrae staff were mostly casual and weren’t in the castle much but working in the outbuildings or grounds.
Logan turned with two empty boxes in his arms and frowned at her expression. ‘Hey, what’s wrong, sweetie?’
‘Nothing…’ Layla bent down to pick up a tiny strip of silver tinsel off the carpet.
He put the boxes down and came over to where she was standing and brushed his finger across her lower lip. ‘If you keep chewing your lip like that it will bleed and then I won’t be able to kiss you.’
Layla forced a quick no-teeth smile. ‘I guess I’m just a bit tired…’
He tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear, his gaze so dark it was hard to tell where his pupils began and ended. ‘Is your leg hurting you? You’ve been doing way too much and that walk to the forest to get the tree was a bit rough in places.’
‘My leg is okay, mostly,’ Layla said. The chronic neural pain she suffered from was still there but she was less conscious of it. She still limped, because one leg was shorter than the other, but she realised she had become almost oblivious to the slight awkwardness of her gait. ‘I think you’ve helped distract me from the discomfort.’ She put her arms around his waist and smiled, properly this time. ‘Now, we need to find some mistletoe to hang over the doorway.’
Logan’s eyes twinkled. ‘Who needs mistletoe?’ He lowered his mouth to hers in a long drugging kiss that made Layla’s senses sing. It was silly of her to keep filling her head with doubts over the future. Silly of her to listen to alarm bells ringing in her head…except they weren’t in her head.
Logan lifted his mouth off hers and cocked his head. ‘Is that your phone or mine?’
‘Mine.’ Layla slipped out of his loose hold and picked up her phone from one of the lamp tables where she’d left it earlier. She glanced at the caller ID and smiled and answered the phone. ‘Hi, Isla. How are you? I was going to call you and—’
‘Guess what?’ Excitement and joy sounded in Isla’s voice.
Layla’s heart skipped a beat ‘Oh, my God, you’ve had the baby?’
‘Yes, a little girl,’ Isla said. ‘She was in a big hurry to get here—almost three weeks early—and I was only in labour two hours. Rafe was beside himself, trying to get me to the hospital in time. We’ve called her Gabriella Marietta Layla. I can’t wait for you to meet her. She’s adorable. Rafe is completely and utterly smitten.’
Tears came to Layla’s eyes and her chest swelled with love for her friend. ‘You named her after me? Oh, my goodness, I don’t know what to say.’
‘Say you’ll be her godmother,’ Isla said. ‘And we’d like Logan to be her godfather. We would be so honoured to have you both as Gabriella’s godparents.’
Layla pictured Logan standing with her at the christening font, agreeing to spiritually sponsor their godchild. It was such an honour for any couple. And since they had become more of a connected couple than before, it seemed the perfect cementing of their relationship. Didn’t their increasing closeness signify a more promising future together? There were times when she was almost certain he loved her. He hadn’t said it but his body, his gaze, his touch said it for him. And didn’t hers tell him much the same?
‘We would be delighted to,’ Layla said. ‘I can’t wait to meet her in person. Can you put the face camera feature on so I can see her now?’
‘Here we go…’ Isla did the necessary button-pressing and the real-time camera showed a tiny pink bundle cradled in her adoring father’s arms.
Layla was so overcome with emotion once she got off the phone that she could barely speak. Happy joyful emotion. Jubilation for her friend and for the love and security she had found in Rafe. That was what she wanted with Logan. Lasting love, a family. Building a harmonious home life together. ‘Gosh, I can’t believe I’m a sort of aunty. And a godmother.’ She turned to Logan and smiled. ‘Did you hear? We’ve been invited to be Gabriella’s godparents. I’ve never been a godparent before, have you?’
Logan’s expression and posture were so still he could have been snap-frozen while she’d been on the phone. ‘No. I have not.’ His voice was flat, almost toneless, except for a fine thread of anger running underneath.
Layla frowned, her heart missing a beat. Why was he looking so cold and distant? ‘What’s wrong?’
He drew in a sharp breath and moved a few paces away, released the breath and then turned back to face her. ‘Do you not think it might have been appropriate to ask me first before accepting an invitation like that?’
Layla swallowed a bauble-sized lump in her throat. ‘But I thought you’d be honoured to—’
‘You thought wrong,’ he said, brows drawn down heavily in a brooding frown.
‘Logan…’ She tried for a conciliatory tone but missed the mark. ‘Why are you so upset? Being asked to be a godparent is such a lovely thing. It’s mostly symbolic these days but, still, it’s wonderful to be asked. I would feel awful saying no. And besides, they want both of us.’
‘You’ve seen the rubbish job I’ve done of being responsible for my brother. And don’t get me started on what a mess I made with Susannah. I’m not signing up for any more responsibility, especially when we’re not really a couple. Or at least not for the long term.’
Not really a couple. Not for the long term.
The words hit her like slaps. Cold hard stinging slaps of truth. A truth she had been hiding from for weeks and weeks, fooling herself her relationship with Logan was something else. Something like Isla had with Rafe. But it wasn’t. It never had been and never could be.
Why had she fooled herself it could?
Layla took a steadying breath, trying to control her spiralling emotions. ‘So, what you’re saying is you don’t want to be Gabriella’s godfather?’
‘I don’t want to be any child’s godfather.’ His eyes were as hard as his tone. Diamond hard. Don’t-ask-me-twice hard. ‘You had no right to answer for me. We might be having a good time but it doesn’t mean you get to sign me up for things I have no interest in.’
‘A good time?’ Layla gasped. ‘Is that all this is to you? Is that all I am to you?’ Pain ripped through her chest as if her ribcage was being wrenched apart with steel claws. But she wouldn’t allow herself to cry. Not now. Not in front of him. How could she have been so gullible, so foolish as to think their physical closeness meant emotional closeness? He was as far away from her as he had ever been. She had fooled herself that his touch meant he loved her. That his passionate kisses meant he cared. That his lovemaking was lovemaking, not just sex.
Logan shoved his hands into his trouser pockets, glaring at her like she was an intruder he had never seen before and not the woman he had spent the last two months making passionate love to. ‘Don’t put words in my mouth. I told you right at the start how things were going to be. You accepted my terms.’
‘Your terms are completely ridiculous,’ Layla said. ‘They’re your insurance scheme against getting hurt, that’s what they really are. And here I was thinking my limp was holding me back, stopping me doing all the things other people do. But at the end of the day it’s just a physical limp. Your emotional limp is far worse. It completely disables you and yet you can’t see it.’
He gave a mocking laugh that grated on her already shredded emotions. ‘Thanks for the free psychoanalysis but I don’t need you to tell me how I think.’
‘You don’t need me at all,’ Layla said. ‘You