They know Molly’s name, which means Piper has told them everything. That explains why she’s avoiding me. She probably thinks I’m mad at her. I am, a little, but in the grand scheme of this mess, her admissions don’t matter. “You had a choice, Dad. You didn’t have to tell Logan where I was or give him my number. You promised you wouldn’t. Remember?”
“I gave it to him,” Tessa says into the speaker. I should have known she was near. That the three of them had become one big happy family without me. “Now that Logan knows about Molly, he deserves a chance to be in her life. I respected your wishes the last two years. I can’t anymore.”
Two years? Tessa and Dad have had a relationship for two years, and I only found out about it a few weeks ago because of the wedding! My stomach ties itself into a sailor’s knot. I was foolish to think Dad would help me if he’s been on their side for two years.
“I didn’t say anything before,” Tess continues, “but if my son wants to know his daughter, I’m not going to deny him that right!”
Frustrated, I hang up before I say something I regret. Being a mom, I understand where Tessa comes from, so I can’t be too mad at her helping her son, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready for Logan to come barging into my life again. I washed my hands of him when I was eighteen. I walked away from him after the wedding, and once again he’s worming his way back into my life.
I pick up my phone to text Sarah. She got me into this mess, she needs to help get me out of it.
Me: I need your help.
Sarah: Anything. What can I do?
Me: Can Molly and I stay with you for a few weeks? Logan served me.
Sarah: Absolutely. Stay as long as you need.
20
Danika
I chew on my thumbnail, the peach paint completely picked off. My feet have paced across the entryway tile of Sarah Archer’s house so many times, it’s no longer cold under my toes. We moved here on Monday, two weeks after being served kidnapping papers. I thought Logan was gearing up for a custody battle, but no. He brought out the big guns. Can’t say I’m not surprised.
Sarah’s letting us stay in her too-big-for-one house until I can get on my feet. I have one more semester of classes until I graduate with my Bachelor’s degree in Education. Hopefully, if I play nice with Logan, I can delay our inevitable custody battle until I have a job and can afford a decent lawyer.
I glance over my shoulder at Molly. She lays on her stomach in the living room, attempting to complete a Doc McStuffins puzzle. Sarah’s cross legged on the floor beside her, intervening before Molly’s frustration gets the best of her.
She’s just like her dad. Stubborn. Short tempered. And cute as hell.
The knock I’ve been waiting on startles me. I jump, whipping my head around so fast my hair slaps me in the face. My throat closes, making my next breath almost impossible, but I manage. I tug the long strands that got stuck in my lip gloss free and take a deep breath.
I can do this.
We can do this.
I pull Sarah’s front door open but refuse to smile. This is one of the days I’ve dreaded since Molly was born. A living version of one of my recurring nightmares. The next one I’m dreading is when Logan can’t handle the pressures of being a father and bails, breaking Molly’s heart.
And mine.
Logan looks as amazing as he did the last time I saw him. I was hoping his freakishly good looks were distorted drunken memories, but no. A simple white tee clings to his chest and arms, hanging loose around his stomach, falling at the belt line of his Levi’s. Beautiful brown eyes that seemed to be stuck on the floor climb their way to my face.
Logan grins, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Hey.”
I swallow the knot in my throat, freeing the trapped air through my nose. “Thank you for not ringing the doorbell. Molly doesn’t like how loud it is.”
I step to the side, opening the door wider. I’m not convinced I can do this but maybe if I keep things between Logan and I civil, today won’t be a disaster. We can do this co-parenting thing, not like I have any other choice.
“Of course,” he says wiping his shoes on the mat. “You asked me not to ring it.”
Right. In one of a dozen messages I sent this afternoon. Don’t wear sneakers, don’t wear red, don’t ring the doorbell. Don’t bring gifts. I think I sent Logan ten texts filled with random things as they crossed my mind, and then a few changing my mind about the things I said. Oddly enough, he never asked why. He simply replied “okay” to every request no matter how strange it was.
“The Oreos are in my car,” Logan hitches his thumb behind him. “I wasn’t sure if I still needed them. You changed your mind like three times.”
“Right. Sorry about that.” I close the door and cross my arms. My thumb rubs against my skin where he can’t see, creating a dull throb that’s distracting me from how nervous I am. “I’ve...um… I have some in the kitchen if we need them. They’re her favorite.”
Logan reaches out and squeezes my arm, simultaneously threading his fingers with mine. “Relax, Dani. If today doesn’t go well, there’s always tomorrow.”