Page 43 of Consuming Logan

“I have an idea,” she said rifling through the purse hanging on the single rack of white gowns. “Let’s make a video of you trying on your gowns for Granny Lou and your mom,” Lina exclaimed.

Ava disappeared behind the curtain. Shucking her sundress, she slipped into an off the shoulder, strapless satin dress. The empire waist tastefully showcased her fuller breasts while the soft folds of elongated ruffles draped over her belly before disappearing in an embroidered train.

“Do the police have any new information on the attacker?” Janna asked, from the other side.

“No,” Ava called back, reaching one hand behind her back, to shimmy up the zipper.

Lina passed the satin sandals underneath the divider. “I hope you requested more vacation time. Between your daddy’s warning and real threat. Logan is going keep you at home.”

He’d said as much last night. And, this morning during breakfast.

“My commander approved another week of leave.” Ava stepped from behind the curtain. Though she hated to admit it, she considered the impact of not returning to the office. This project demanded her full attention. Her superior had reassured Ava that her position as the project lead was secure. She’d talked with Ash. He’d allayed her fears. After reviewing her instructions, he promised not to burn the project to the ground floor in the next seven days. When she’d ended the call, she exhaled in relief. One thing she knew for sure about Ash, he acted with passion, precision, and purpose. The man was relentless in his pursuits.

Ava opened the curtain. “What do you think?”

Lina tilted her head, steepling her fingers in concentration. Would Ava’s selection pass a fashionista’s scrutiny.

“That dress was meant for you, Ava.” Lina snapped.

Beside her Janna did a fist pump, and an admirable cheerleader jazz hands maneuver. Not bad for a thirty-year-old mother of two. It shocked Ava to see genuine tears from the fellow sailor.

“You look stunning. Say yes to that dress,” Janna screamed, dancing around the room. “That’s an order.”

Ava laughed, her spirits soaring for the first time since Logan’s discharge. Somehow finding the perfect dress moved the wedding from abstract to multidimensional. It’s just a dress she thought. But she felt an internal shift. She’d read on one of the blogs she subscribed to that every detail seemed monumental to a bride. This was her moment to revel in all that belonged to her. The dream lover. The dream career. The surreal dream of motherhood. Sure, Maribelle’s banishment spoke to the strained family dynamics. Ava expected a full-scale revolt by way of canceled caterers and suddenly unavailable live bands. But she had everything she ever wanted with Logan.

Lina eased closer, brushing Ava’s hair from her shoulders with trembling fingers. “You are a gorgeous bride.”

Ava struck a Beyonce-ish pose, arms above her head, one hip cocked. “I’m so happy,” Ava shook, and she felt a rush of heat. She felt silly.

Lina sniffled. “Logan will kill someone for even looking at you.”

In her heart a sense of power, destiny, desire, and love pumped through every cell, healing, repairing, building. This version of herself was who she was meant to be. Confident, she squared her shoulders inhaling her truth. She belonged with Logan. History warned her to distrust the emotion. Instead, she chose to embrace the ray of light, welcoming the calm like a long absent friend. Counting her blessings, Ava whispered a silent prayer that Lina’s prediction would never come true.

Chapter 15

Logan’s brother rented a second-floor corner office suite in historic downtown Shell Cove. Scrolled wrought iron lamp posts reminiscent of a Norman Rockwell painting lined cobblestoned streets. At city center, sat a small park complete with shade benches and a duck pond. This part of the town screamed insert wife and baby here. Ava’s father had tossed the word value at him. Logan wondered at his declining shares. An image of Brooke broke into his thoughts. Quickly it was replaced by a small square of ultrasound paper with a grainy black and white outline.

Maribelle had almost revealed his secret. The past he never revisited resurged, a reckoning, the only way to describe the deluge of painful memories.

He’d spent the better part of last night distracting himself, and Ava with his mind, body, and his soul. No way would he survive her cutting him and his non-friendly ban of misfits out of her life.

Here he was trying to get married, while his father dropped explosives with anti-marriage tripwires like divorce, packing, and moving out. Neither of his parents were a ringing endorsement for Logan’s upcoming nuptials. Logan glanced between his brother, Tyson, and Maximus O’Connor. Together the two Irishman looked formidable. Not that they dwarfed him, but he’d think twice before tussling with the pair in a dark alley.

Logan snatched a bottle of water from the mini fridge behind the massive oak chair his brother rarely occupied.

“I’m done with family gatherings until after the wedding,” Logan declared.

He’d arrived at Masters Security Incorporated surprised to find the three men in deep discussion. No one spoke, allowing the rhetorical question to fill the gap in conversation.

From his position on the couch, Darwin watched him, his blue eyes brimming with concern. “Have you spoken with dad?”

He may have imagined it, but all three men seemed to tense. Logan’s spidey-sense tingled. Had something else happened between his parents? If it had, how did it involve the O’Connor brothers?

Leaning against the remaining chair, Logan shook his head. “No. Dad has called a few times. But my woman and unborn child are priority.”

Logan had made that clear to Drew Walters and Ava. Sunday had gone off the rails. Keeping his mother away from his family ensured that wouldn’t happen again. He’d over-reacted. When he’d looked at Ava, her stricken expression had torn the heart from his chest. His reaction to the idea of Ava leaving him had been incendiary. Granny Lou provided a note of calm as everyone filed out of his door.

Darwin lifted one hand, rubbing at his forehead. “True that…but, can you believe he dropped the D-word?”