Walk Through Fire (Page 119)

I was stiff as a board and deep breathing as they all moved as one to the door.

I couldn’t tear my eyes from the girls.

“Babe,” Logan called.

With a great deal of effort, I forced my gaze to him.

He took in the look on my face and I saw the pain of understanding slash through his and that hurt even more.

I realized they’d stopped moving when I heard a relatively snotty, “Is she gonna let us in?”

This took me out of the moment and I looked down to the girls, who were both tall, like their dad.

In fact, taking them in up close, I saw absolutely everything was just like their dad.

God.

I had to get it together.

“Hey,” I pushed out. “So sorry.” I moved aside. “Come in out of the cold.”

The taller, likely older one, Cleo, gave me a careful smile and moved inside.

The shorter, probably younger one, Zadie, gave me a once-over, stopped on my blouse, my boots. Something slid over her face I couldn’t read, then she marched in.

After she did, Logan moved in, not to the house, to me.

I felt his hand at my waist, the bristles of his whiskers brush my cheek, and heard him say at my ear, “Fucked up. This was too soon.”

I pinned another smile on my face, this one as beaming as it was false, pulled away, and looked at him.

“It’s all good,” I stated brightly, then moved farther into the kitchen, Logan coming with me and shutting the door¸ all this happening with me turning my attention back to the girls and declaring, “Welcome! I’m so glad to meet you.”

“You too,” Cleo replied.

Zadie didn’t say anything. She was looking around, though the good part about this was that she was looking around and doing it with her mouth open in what appeared to be wonder.

“Babe, this is Cleo, my oldest,” Logan stated, moving in and wrapping his arm around the taller girl, tucking her into his side. “And that’s Zadie, my baby.”

“Hi, Cleo,” I greeted.

She waved and mumbled a shy, “Hey.”

I turned to Zadie and opened my mouth but didn’t say anything when she looked to her father.

“This house is like a non-fairy tale, fairy-tale castle but in house form,” she decreed.

Oh, thank God.

Suddenly, all the effort, expense, and hassle of renovations became more worth it than it already had been.

Logan grinned at me. I grinned back.

My eyes shot to Zadie again when she shrieked.

“Look at that kitty!”

“What kitty?” Cleo asked, a thread of excitement in her voice. She pulled from her dad and moved toward her sister.

“He has blue eyes, he’s teeny-tiny, and he’s all fluffy,” Zadie breathed excitedly, now hunched over and walking toward Chief, who was lounged on his side on the edge of the living room rug, studying her warily.

“Oh my gosh, they’re so cute,” Cleo whispered reverently. “They’re, like, perfect. Look, Zade, there’s another one on the couch.”

She wasn’t wrong. Poem was sitting on the arm of the couch, also studying the girls warily.

And suddenly paying through the nose for two purebred cats became more worth it than it already was.

I followed the girls to the space between living room and kitchen and stopped. When I did, I felt Logan move in beside me and he slid his arm around my shoulders.

I wasn’t sure about touching in front of the girls but I figured he was their dad, he’d know how to play this, so I had to follow his lead.

Thus I slid my arm around his waist.

Cleo turned to me and didn’t even blink when she saw me standing close, holding and being held by her dad.

She was in kitty wonderland.

“Can we touch them? Hold them?” she asked.

“Of course, sweetie,” I answered.

She grinned genuinely and it transformed her whole face, making beauty exponentially more beautiful.

Zadie already had a hold of Chief and was cuddling him under her chin.

“He weighs, like, nothing,” she whispered in awe.

“You have Chief, Zadie,” I told her, then looked to Cleo, who was slowly stalking Poem down the couch. “And that’s Poem, Cleo. She’s my girl.” I looked back to Zadie. “Chief’s my boy and your dad named him.”

This was the wrong thing to say. I knew it immediately when Zadie’s attention cut to me, then to her dad.

She dropped Chief on the back of the couch and declared, “I’m hungry. Can we go?”

My body got tight. I felt Logan’s body get tight. And Cleo’s eyes shot to her dad.

I could feel he was annoyed but this was a much better beginning than I expected and I didn’t want anything, outside of things Zadie might do, to mess that up.

So I said quickly, “Yes. Let’s get going. Can’t wait for a big plate of spaghetti!”

I moved from Logan’s arm and toward the hooks behind the door where my jackets were so we could get on with getting to where we were having dinner. The Old Spaghetti Factory.

I grabbed the suede jacket I’d put there earlier with my pashmina in preparation for that very moment and shrugged it on, wrapping the scarf around my neck and grabbing my bag.

The girls had trooped out and Logan was holding the door.

“Alarm, beautiful,” he muttered.

I nodded, hit the digits, and armed it. We got out, Logan closing the door, me locking it.

We moved toward the truck. Logan took my hand and I saw Cleo in the truck, Zadie standing outside of it, her eyes narrowed on our hands.

She lifted her gaze to her father and asked, “Does Millie get to sit in front?”