He chuckled, then lifted her up, pulling her against him until her legs wrapped around his waist.
And when they’d worn each other out, and she was laying with her head resting on his naked chest, his hand gently stroking her curls, she found herself whispering drowsily, “I’m so glad you’re going to be this baby’s father.”
He kissed the top of her head, his chest rising sharply as though his breath was catching.
“Yeah.” His voice was graveled. “I’m glad I am, too.
Chapter Twenty
Something was screeching. Courtney opened her eyes, frowning as the light of the winter sun dazzled her. It took her a moment to figure out where the hell she was.
In bed. With Logan. On Christmas morning. And her phone was dancing on top of her bed side table. She reached out to pick it up, frowning when she saw Carl’s name on the screen. A side glance told her Logan was still fast asleep. Sighing, she accepted the call.
“Hello?”
“We’re waiting for you at the church. Where are you?” His voice was short.
She sat up, her brows knitting as she glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost ten o’clock. How the heck had she slept for so long? Next to her, Logan was still breathing softly, rhythmically, the blanket and sheets wrapped around his waist.
“I overslept,” she said, trying to keep her voice quiet. “You should go in without me.”
“But we always go to church on Christmas day. It’s important to Mom and Dad. They won’t sit down until you get here.”
Courtney squeezed her eyes shut. The back of her throat felt scratchy and raw at the thought of letting Mary and Ellis down. “I’ll come to the house once you’re back,” she suggested, her voice full of apologies. “Tell them I’m sorry, okay?”
“Is this something to do with him?”
She didn’t need to ask Carl who he was talking about. She knew from the bitterness in his tone. Maybe he’d even driven down the lane and seen Logan’s rental car parked outside. She pressed her lips together, trying to ignore the twinge in her stomach. “I’m just tired, Carl. It’s been a long week, and I was out late last night.”
“I guess we’re not important to you anymore.”
“That’s not true.” Her voice rose up, making Logan’s eyes shoot open. He frowned, lifting himself up on his side to look at her.
She pointed at her phone and grimaced. He nodded in understanding.
“Is he still there?” Carl asked.
Her guts twisted all over again. “Carl, please…”
“Damn it, Courtney. One trip to church, that’s all Mom and Dad wanted. One day to think about Shaun and spend some time with you. And you’re in bed with some guy who knocked you up. In Shaun’s house.”
Tears stung at her eyes. The thought of letting Ellis and Mary down made her heart ache. They didn’t deserve it, not after all they’d been through.
What about what you’ve been through?
She shook her head at the voice in her head. Because she wouldn’t let herself think like that. Shaun’s death had been horrific, but she had a future now. But Ellis and Mary would never get over his loss.
“I’ll tell them you’ll meet them at the big house,” Carl said, sighing. “Don’t let them down again. They don’t deserve it.”
It was as though he could read her darkest thoughts. “I’ll be there,” she promised. Carl ended the call, and she put the phone back on the table.
“You okay?” Logan asked, his voice thick with sleep.
She made herself smile. “I’m fine,” she said, her voice bright. “I guess we overslept.”
The corner of his mouth quirked up. “I guess we did.” Reaching for her, he pulled her down until his lips were warm against hers. “Merry Christmas,” he whispered, his mouth moving against hers.
“Merry Christmas,” she said, closing her eyes as he began to kiss her, pushing her back on the bed and covering her body with his.
Why was it that just being with him made everything seem right, even though she knew it was wrong?
She had no idea, but she kissed him back anyway.
It was raining by the time Logan left for his brother’s house right after eleven that morning. Courtney checked on the chickens, topping up their feed, before piling gifts onto the passenger seat of her rusty red truck, and driving around the perimeter road to Mary and Ellis’s farmhouse.
She’d spent every Christmas here since marrying Shaun. It wasn’t as though she had any other family to visit, with her mom passing years before, and her dad remarried and living far away.
Pulling up, she looked out of the windshield. A curtain of drizzle half-obscured the old house. The two-storied fascia was covered with white-painted boards, some peeling to reveal the bare wood beneath. A grey-tiled porch overhung the front steps, as long as the house itself. She knew that in the summer Mary would sit on the rocking chair and crochet as Ellis finished up his chores.
Climbing out of the cab, Courtney ran around the front of the truck, holding her hand above her head in a vain attempt to ward off the rain. She leaned into the passenger seat and slid her hands beneath the pile of gifts, then kicked the door closed as she hurried up the steps to the front door.
Like Courtney, Mary and Ellis rarely locked their front door. Courtney wasn’t even sure if they had a key to it. There was always somebody home, usually Mary. And in the summer, Ellis would be within hollering distance in the fields.
Still, she knocked anyway, wary of surprising them. Ellis’s low voice called out for her to come in, and she pushed the handle down with her elbow, her arms still full of gifts, and hitched her hip against the wood, the door opening with a creek.
“It’s me,” she called out.
“Come in,” Mary pushed herself up from the old wing-back chair by the fireplace, a warm
