He’d put Catherine’s number into his Favorites and he tapped the phone app, then her name. Anticipation kicked in only to listen to incessant ringing before her voicemail picked up. He muttered a curse. His only break for the day that would give him free time away from the client, and Catherine wasn’t answering.
“Montgomery, Judge wants you in his chambers. Seems your client’s causing trouble again,” the bailiff called from across the hall.
Logan groaned, ended the call before he could leave a message and ran down the hall.
Sometimes priorities sucked, he thought.
* * *
Hiding out wasn’t smart. It didn’t say much for her ability to cope. But then, Catherine didn’t want to cope. She wanted to forget. That she’d slept with Logan. And that he hadn’t gotten in touch.
She’d arrived at Kayla’s on Sunday and today was Tuesday. So what if she hadn’t told him where to reach her? He was a lawyer. A smart guy. If he’d wanted to find her, he could. Easily.
As much as she’d told herself not to expect anything, that she didn’t want anything, his silence hurt anyway. Because despite all the truths Catherine knew in her mind, her heart wanted to believe she was different, special. Not just a cheap and easy fling.
She wanted to forget, and catering to her pregnant sister would help her do just that.
Plus, it would allow Kane to leave the house without worrying that he’d left Kayla alone. It was the least she could do in exchange for invading his space and their privacy. She carried a tray of food upstairs and knocked on the bedroom door.
“If it’s more muffins, I’m stuffed.”
“Cinnamon French toast,” Catherine called back and kicked open the door with the toe of her foot.
Kayla propped herself up in bed.
“I made it just the way you like. A few raisins, a touch of low-calorie syrup…”
“Cat, sit down.”
After placing the tray on the dresser, she joined her sister. “I’m sitting. What’s wrong? Is it the baby?” She glanced at Kayla’s stomach and was rewarded by a jolt of movement under the sheet. “Active little guy.”
“Or girl. Listen to me. About all this… food.”
“I’ve been cleaning the kitchen, I swear. And I’m freezing the casseroles. You and Kane will have enough food to get you through the…”
“The first decade of this child’s life. Catherine, slow it down. I know you better than anyone. You only cook like a demon when you’re upset. It’s been two days and you haven’t mentioned him, but you’ve barely left the kitchen.”
“Him who?” she asked, avoiding her sister’s gaze.
Kayla rolled her eyes. “You know stress isn’t good for the baby.” She patted her stomach. “And worrying about you is stressful. Now, stop playing dumb and tell me what gives.”
Trust Kayla to hit her in the heart. Catherine eased herself down on the bed. “Remember when we were kids? And Christmas came? All the kids on the block got tons of gifts. Even if it was a used bike or a hand-me-down doll, they got wrapped gifts under the tree and Santa came.”
“But not for us,” Kayla said softly.
“Right. How many birthday wishes and Christmas lists did I waste asking for my daddy to come home?”
“I’m not sure. You never said it out loud. You swore it never bothered you the way it bothered me. And I should have sensed that it did.”
Catherine shook her head. “There you go again, taking responsibility for things you can’t control. If I didn’t admit it, I didn’t want you to know.”
As she met her sister’s gaze, Kayla motioned for her to continue.
Catherine bit her lip. “It took me a while, but after the first couple of years, I caught on. He wasn’t coming back… and I stopped believing.”
“In more than just Santa Claus,” Kayla said.
Catherine nodded. “And then I met Logan. I knew we were from different worlds. I knew I was just an interesting diversion. And yet…” To her horror, tears filled her eyes and she brushed them away with the back of her hand.
“You believed in him.” Kayla frowned. “He could just be busy with work.”
On call three nights a week and one weekend a month… “It doesn’t take long to call or text.” To find out where to pick her up on Friday. For the date that wasn’t going to happen.
The ring of the doorbell cut off her train of thought. “Expecting company?” she asked her sister.
“Could be Kane’s boss’s wife. I mean, old boss. He retired last year. She stops by every week with… more food,” Kayla said with a groan.
“I’ll get it. Just remember, no one cooks like me.” Catherine forced humor and lightness into her voice as she walked out of the bedroom and headed for the door.
If Catherine was going to stay, she needed to give her sister support and not stress. Neither one of the sisters knew how to turn off their motherly instincts toward the other. They were too deeply ingrained for too many years.
On the other side of the door was a deliveryman and not the captain’s wife as Kayla had predicted.
“Delivery for Catherine Luck.”
She narrowed her eyes. “That’s strange.”
He shrugged. “Are you her? I need a signature.”
Catherine scrawled her name and accepted the small box covered in plain brown paper wrap. Turning the square box over, she found the familiar return address, written in an unfamiliar scrawl.
She’d never seen his handwriting, she realized. How many other things didn’t she know about Logan Montgomery? Too many. And yet the small box that fit into her hand filled those gaps until they didn’t seem to matter.
As she tore into the paper, Catherine hoped with everything in her that it wasn’t an illusion.
* * *
Logan tossed his keys onto the metal desk, kicked aside the garbage can, and unloaded armfuls of folders onto the floor. His desk was piled high with
