Judy left, slamming the door behind her. When I looked back to my mother, her lip quivered.
"That's not true, dear?" she asked. "You don't have a crush on the Major, do you?"
Lying doesn't come easy to me. I managed no more than a shake of my head. "He doesn't need fixed up, mom. It's nobody's business, especially Judy's, that he's kind of seeing someone."
"Oh, so that's why he's needed you so much these last few weeks!" She smiled, clearly relieved, and exhaled. She put a finger to her lips and winked at me. "I won't let the cat out of the bag, dear."
Faking a smile, I proceeded straight to my room, locked the door and started crying.
It was the first time my mother had ever made me feel ugly.
Dread snaking along my spine, I pulled into Logan's drive the next afternoon an hour past my scheduled arrival. I had texted him a bullshit excuse about Rhea needing transport when I had, in fact, slept late after crying myself to sleep then lost another hour treating the swollen flesh around my eyes. More than being late, anxiety filled me because I had more than one uncomfortable conversation ahead of me today — first with Logan over how, and likely why, I'd failed to break the news to my parents, and then with my parents, with or without Logan by my side.
I knocked on the front door at the same time I slid my key in the lock. By the time I finished opening it, Logan stood at the far end of the hall. I had just a second to recognize how tense his expression looked when the reason for his distress stepped into view and curled her arm around his waist.
Mrs. Jones.
"Oh, Lily dear, we were just waiting for you to arrive so we could go out." Her smile faltered as Logan pried her arm away from his body.
Suddenly faint, I leaned against the door and prayed the shadows at my end of the hall masked any of the emotions running across my face.
"We were just going to pop out for lunch." Her smile resurfaced, as fake as always. Reaching behind Logan, she grabbed a small clutch from the side table. "While we discuss things."
Stevie appeared behind them, his expression unreadable. Noticing him, Mrs. Jones patted the top of his head before turning back to Logan. "Ready dear?"
He handed her the keys and told her he would follow in another minute. She started walking toward me as Logan hoisted Stevie in his arms. Moving away from the door, I turned to ensure there was zero chance of Mrs. Jones brushing against me. She didn't even look at me as she passed.
Logan whispered something to Stevie then kissed him and lowered him back to the ground. Seeing Logan's approach, the way his mouth shaped the unspoken words playing along his tongue, I stepped out of the house and into the sunshine. I couldn't take him brushing against me in the hall or whatever platitude he wanted to comfort me with.
"Lily…"
I didn't look at him when he stepped onto the porch. Instead, I gestured at his wife waiting in the passenger seat of his car.
When he spoke again, his tone had hardened. "We'll talk when I get back."
I remained mute, my blinks coming faster as I fought the urge to cry. I heard him sigh and then he passed in front of me, got in the car and drove away without looking in my direction.
Stevie had curled up on the couch by the time I stepped into the living room. He wouldn't look at me. It hurt, knowing what he must have been thinking. His mom was back, and suddenly I was the enemy. How could he feel any other way?
With Logan and his wife absent, I followed my normal babysitter routine. Since there was no homework — mine or Stevie's, I straightened up around the house, my heart shriveling another inch in diameter when I entered Logan's bedroom with an armful of folded laundry to find two suitcases against one wall and a patch of red lace peeking out from under the bed. Putting the clothes on the bed, I reached down and snatched the fabric.
Women's panties, size small.
The house had three bedrooms. There was no good reason for her suitcase or panties to be anywhere near Logan's bed.
I put the underwear back where I found them and returned the folded clothes to the laundry room, trying to forget what I had just seen. I spent a few minutes or thirty in the bathroom fighting more tears, losing the battle as often as not. I tried to see the bright side — the awkward conversation with my parents wouldn't happen. Judy could stop sneering over my infatuation with Logan, at least after she stopped gloating over the return of Mrs. Jones.
At the end of two hours of almost total silence, Stevie jerked his head up from where he had resumed his position on the couch after lunch. I heard the sound of two doors shutting a few seconds later. Rushing to the hallway, I grabbed my purse and keys, the front door opening as soon as my hands closed around my bag.
Logan held the door open as the lady of the house walked back in her head held high. Halfway down the hall, she paused out of habit, her head starting to turn left before she must have remembered that the mirror had been taken down. Her head dropped a little, the frozen smile thawing and dipping downward for a heartbeat.
I let her pass out of sight then I walked briskly down the hall, twisting and contorting so that Logan could not grab hold of me as I brushed against him on my way out.
"Lily!" He followed after me, his long, powerful legs bringing him to my driver side door seconds before I reached it. Grabbing the handle, he blocked me from getting inside.
"Baby-"
My hand flew up to silence him. His wife's panties were on the floor of his bedroom, her suitcases resting only a few feet away. I wasn't his baby any longer and, from the look of things, never had been. I was a convenient fuck. The fat, pathetic babysitter who had a crush on him, took care of his child and never said no to anything he wanted.
Not that I hadn't enjoyed every last minute of it, but that fact was irrelevant.
"You will talk to me, Lily." His grip on the door handle tightened, the muscles along his chest and arms bulging. "She showed up in a taxi, sending it away before I ever opened the front door. I couldn't have the conversation I needed to have with her with Stevie around-"
Right, I thought. Like that totally explained why her suitcases were in the bedroom and her panties were on the floor.
When I continued staring over the top of my car's roof, he lifted his hand from the door, gripped the end of my chin and drew my gaze in his direction. I stared down at his chest. Bad enough I had to hear his pathetic excuses, I didn't need to see the truth across his face. His wife — the woman he'd shared more than a dozen years of his life with — had returned home. His son's mother had returned home.
I jerked my chin from his grasp and grabbed the door handle before he could reclaim it.
"Lily, I'll make her leave, give her money for a hotel. You don't need to go."
I lifted my gaze to finally meet his. "I didn't talk to my mother last night."
I'm not sure why I said it. Probably to hide how badly I was hurting by suggesting I didn't care enough about him to be honest with my parents. Or maybe I wanted to give him an out, let him know that I wouldn't be going home defeated or embarrassed.
Whatever my reason, his gaze shut down and then that bitch, Mrs. Jones, opened the door.
"Do you need cash to pay her, dear?"
"I'm all set," I called out and yanked the door open.
Trying to reach me one last time, Logan softly said my name. I slammed the door before I had a chance to hear anything else from his lying lips. Engine running, I whipped my car out of the drive and headed for Emy's, a half gallon of black walnut ice cream and a long night crying.
Logan called. I didn't answer. He came by my parents' home. I made sure I wasn't there. Days passed and the calls and visits wound down to nothing. Word got around that Mrs. Logan was back. I stayed away from home to avoid Judy's knowing smirk and my mother's questions.