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I let out a long breath.

What have I gotten myself into?

ChapterTwenty-Two

LOGAN

I feel strangelynervous as the day comes to an end at the office. I’m supposed to go over to Meredith’s, and it’s not like it’s the first time I’ve gone to her house when her parents are away. But other than when she was sick, it’s been a long time.

And things are different now. We’re different people–aren’t we? And Meredith ispregnant, which is something I still haven’t had time to process and wrap my head around. All I know is that I want to be there for her in any way that she’ll let me.

So, if coming over to give her a foot rub is the only way to be with her, so be it.

I spend some time at the grocery store, picking out Meredith’s favorite snacks, like cherry sours–who even eats those anymore? I also pick up her favorite ice cream, Cherry Garcia. What can I say, my princess likes cherries.

I also grab the ingredients for what used to be her favorite food–Cajun shrimp alfredo. She used to order it at this really fancy place near her parents’ place, but they’ve since closed down.

I consider myself a bit of an amateur chef, so maybe I can do it justice.

When I arrive at Meredith’s door, she opens it, and her blue eyes widen.

“Did you bring the kitchen sink?”

I laugh. “Something told me you wouldn’t have all the ingredients I need for your favorite meal.”

“You’re not going to make me Cajun shrimp alfredo.”

I grin. “Just watch me.”

“Are you still cooking?” She peeks in the bags as I take them inside and put them on the counter. “Cherry sours!”

I swat at her hand. “Yes, I’m still cooking, but no snacks until after dinner.”

She frowns, but then gives me a little smirk. “Yes, daddy.”

I shudder. “Don’t call me that, it’s weird.”

She giggles and helps me unpack the rest of the groceries, seeming to be in a good mood.

But her stomach growls as I start to put things into the fridge. It’s only four o’clock, but if she’s hungry now...

“Grab me the garlic,” I tell her, and she does as I say, handing me the ingredients and helping me chop the onions, tears streaming down her face.

I can’t help but laugh at her trembling lip, the little pout.

She sniffles. “You shouldn’t laugh at a crying woman. Especially a pregnant one.”

“It’s just the onions, princess. I wouldn’t make you cry otherwise.”

She gives me a look, and I wince, having not realized what I said. I did make her cry one time, for sure, and probably multiple times if I’m honest with myself.

But she’d done the same to me.

I slide past that uncomfortable moment and start the sauce while the water is boiling for the pasta.

Meredith watches me multitask.

“You’re pretty good at this.”