Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 113270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
“I…I don’t know what to say.”
Logan shrugs. “It’s done. If you want to make a change, all you have to do is say, and I’ll call the lawyer.”
“Well, thanks. I appreciate your handling it, and I appreciate it—”
“Breezy, you don’t have to do this. You can still be mad at me about the galleries. I’ll understand, really. I’d love for you to run them still, but I understand if you don’t want to.” His shoulders bounce. “I’m okay with it if you need to hate me, so long as you still let me love you.”
“Oh, baby brother,” I whisper raggedly. “I don’t hate you. I couldn’t. Ever. And honestly, Dad leaving the galleries to you is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“What? You don’t mean that.”
“Three months ago, I wouldn’t have. But, Logan, right now, I do. I needed this. I needed the change, the push, the end of a trail of excuses. I’m finally chasing my happiness. No one else’s. And I was never going to do that in New York, when I felt like the responsibility of the family was on my shoulders.”
“So, what now? What are you going to do?”
I laugh. “Slow down. Choose me. Live happily ever after, I guess.”
“Fuck yeah. Life here looks damn good on you, I’ll tell you that.”
“Thank you.” I smile at him and search his face closely. “And what about you? What are you going to do?”
He sighs. “Well, I don’t think I can hang around here much longer. I thought Bennett would thaw eventually, but I don’t think I’m getting anywhere, and I don’t know, maybe I’m better off just leaving him alone. I’m headed back to New York next week.” He shrugs. “Time to start handling things there. I need to get the galleries steady—find the right people, make sure what you built doesn’t fall apart just because the wrong Bishop’s name is on the paperwork.” He smiles at me, but it’s a little sad around the edges. “But just know, anytime you need me, you call me, and I’ll be here.”
I nod. I understand. I understand it all too well because it used to be me, dancing on the periphery of really living my life. “I love you, Logan. And I’ll work on Bennett. We’ll find a way to be a family again, okay? I promise.”
His smile is sad but handsome as ever as he leans over the table to hug me, whispering in my ear, “Walk me to my car, okay? The crew found something in the fire before they started demo, and I felt like it was something you guys might want.”
I do as he asks and wait patiently as he grabs it from the back seat. When he hands it to me, my breath catches in my chest. The photo album from the guest room box, full of Abigail and Lucy and the Tad who loved them. This is the best news I’ve gotten all day.
“Logan Bishop, you are full of surprises.”
When the moment is right, I’ll be able to give them to Tad. And then, our family will really be whole.
51
Tad
Monday, June 28th
Paper crinkles with Breezy’s heavy breaths as the ultrasound tech moves the goopy wand across her adorably blossoming bump, trying to get the best view. Our baby bounces and kicks and rolls, and Breezy’s laugh as she watches it all happening in real time is the best sound in the world.
“We’ve got a wiggle monster on our hands, folks, but I think…yep, I have, finally secured the money shot.” The tech smiles, moving the wand around again and clicking the ball in the center while the machine bings several times. “Do we want to know what we’re having? Or are we waiting for a surprise?”
I look to Breezy, who simultaneously looks to me, and we both smile.
“It’s up to you,” I tell her, and her smile grows.
“But I was going to say it’s up to you,” she counters, and the sonographer laughs.
Breezy turns back to the screen, trying to get a peek, and with that small gesture, I know her answer without her having to say it.
“Let’s hear it.”
“Ah, yay!” the sonographer cheers quietly. “I love this part.” Reaching down below to the printer of the machine and handing us both the photo, she smiles. “Congratulations, Mom and Dad. It’s a…boy.”
“Oh gosh,” Breezy laughs with joy-filled tears shining in her pretty blue eyes. “Between the Bishop and Hanson testosterone track record, I think I’m going to have my hands full.”
She’s never sounded happier to be put out, and I feel the exact same way.
Leaning forward to touch our lips, the sting of my nose warns of happy tears I don’t dare try to hold back. “A boy. A perfect, beautiful, amazing baby boy, made by the two of us.”
Breezy nods, our foreheads rubbing together. “I love you.”