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My cheeks heat up. “My aunt Beatrice. I know that you only met her a couple of times, but...”

“She’s the only person you have.” Her voice is quiet and a little sad. “I know we’re having kind of an argument right now, but I’m down to give some good news to your family.”

I let out a breath. “Are we having an argument? I thought we were discussing.”

She pats my arm, smiling blandly. “It was an argument. But we’ll table it.”

My palms sweat as we walk up to my aunt’s porch.

I haven’t called ahead, and I’m a little worried she’ll be angry with me.

We’ve lost touch over the last couple of years.

Meredith takes my hand, and it makes me feel a little better.

I clear my throat as I ring the doorbell, feeling like something’s stuck in there.

It takes a few moments, but eventually, Beatrice makes her way to the door and when she opens it, the shock in her eyes probably mirrors mine.

She’s aged over the last couple of years, but I shouldn’t be surprised. She’s nearly seventy-five years old.

Guilt washes over me, and I wish I’d kept in better touch with her.

“Logan? Is that you?” She squints before putting on a pair of thick glasses hanging from a lanyard on her neck. “And you’ve brought a lady friend.”

“You remember Meredith, don’t you, Beatrice?”

Her tender eyes widen. “Meredith, yes, of course! I didn’t know the two of you were still in touch.”

“We weren’t, actually. Not until recently.” Meredith steps forward. “Can we come in?”

“Of course, of course.” Beatrice steps backward and opens the door.

I walk in and reach down to hug her. She feels small and frail in my arms.

I can’t wait to share our good news.

I just wish those news included a wedding invitation too, but I don’t think that will ever be in the cards for us.

ChapterTwenty-Seven

MEREDITH

Witnessinghow Logan’s Aunt Beatrice lives really gives me some insight into how privileged I’ve been my whole life.

Her house is clean and well-kept, but the building is crumbling around her, the pipes loud and creaky as she boils a kettle of tea.

Something as simple as the off-brand sugar she has in the pantry shows that her life has been a lot harder than mine.

Logan’s life had been a lot harder than mine back then, too.

I don’t always appreciate that.

“How long have you been in town, Logan?”

Logan winces. “A few months. I’m sorry I haven’t gotten around to calling you. Everything’s been so busy, opening a new business?—”

“A new business? Did you buy another garage?” Beatrice’s voice was bright and interested.