Summary: Logan uses his words. Ororo is stubborn. (Actually, they BOTH are.)
Anna isn’t having it.
Author’s Note: It’s been forever since I updated this. Thanks for reading, if you have stuck with it this long.
Things in the apartment were getting weird.
Ororo didn’t really know how to live with a roommate. Not since college, at any rate, when she had to share a dorm room on campus with a girl named Lorna who liked dying her hair green and listened to death metal at all hours of the night. They cut each other a wide berth most of the time, split the landline phone bill down the middle, and tried to make themselves scarce whenever the other would have a “hook-up” over, even if that just meant Ororo had to pull the covers over her head and pretend she didn’t hear any noises from across the room. In the dorm, she had to share a bathroom with twenty other women. There wasn’t much privacy or quiet. Everyone knew her business. There was never an hour of the night when someone didn’t witness your walk of shame, especially if you had to stagger up the stairs in platform heels after Dollar Pitcher night.
It was only temporary, she had told Anna, when she moved in with her after subletting it to her. She never realized that it would come to an impasse of who was going to move out first.
“So,” she mentioned on a Saturday over a bowl of “healthy” looking cereal full of flax and chia and almonds and goodness knows how many kinds of aggressive fiber that inevitably got stuck in your teeth,
“The lease is up in a couple of months.”
“That thought occurred to me.” Ororo sipped her green tea, butt leaned up against the corner. Her stomach was still being picky about what she put into it, not to mention the foods she allowed herself to smell. Ororo and Anna had to have a serious discussion about Anna’s fried catfish. It hadn’t been pretty.
“I was thinkin’ about signing onto it again,” Anna said. She spooned up another bite of cereal. It was easily the noisiest bite of food Ororo ever heard being chewed.
She sighed. “You don’t say.”
“And Remy and I have been having some pretty interesting conversations about his livin’ situation, too.”
Ororo tried and failed not to exhale loudly through her nose, a voiceless growl that Vic used to despise.
“How interesting are we talking?”
“This apartment’s nicer than his, and his lease is up next month. His landlord wants t’give him five weeks to either renew his lease or get out before he has to prorate a month’s rent for the next tenant.”
Aaaaaannnd of course.
"I know yer in a kinda 'in-between' situation with Logan," Anna allowed.
Ororo laughed mirthlessly. "A 'situation.' That's what we're calling it now?"
"Best Ah can come up with, shoog. C'mon now." Anna shook her spoon at her for emphasis. "That man moved several states fer you."
"For the baby," Ororo corrected her.
"Don't be hardheaded, Tory." Anna's green eyes brooked no nonsense. "That man cares about you. None of mah exes ever helped me move my stuff when I was leavin' 'em above and beyond puttin' anything I left in their apartment in a box, dumping it on the trunk of mah car and then skedaddlin.'"
"So he helped me move." Her expression was cavalier, but she hugged herself more tightly, staring down into her teacup.
"It was kinda dirty not telling him about that bun in yer oven until the last minute."
"Well, now we've been talking about it." They had another appointment in two weeks. Ororo's skirts were getting tight. She had a visit coming up to see her dad, and she was cringing at the thought of that discussion where she told him that she "got into trouble."
Did that even count when you were an adult? She mentally scolded herself. Pop would be supportive, and it wasn't like she was still living at home, or young enough to embarrass her parents. But Ororo still felt like she was going to get scolded - or even grounded - like she wasn't a grown-ass woman, yet. Like she wasn't the one paying her own bills or putting food on the table. Even when she came cruising through the front door of Pop's house, she felt like he was catching her creeping up the stairs during the wee hours in high heels, too much makeup, and the hoochie dress Mama already told her she couldn't wear. She half-expected Pop to be standing there, raising his eyebrows, sucking his teeth and checking his watch.
Pop, you’re going to be a grandpop. The thought made the corners of her lips twitch. Anna gave her a look.
“What?” she pried, grinning.
“I still haven’t told my dad.”
“Girrrrrl, yer a mess,” Anna told her. “Bet he’ll be tickled pink, though.”
“I’m just hoping he doesn’t get his shotgun out of the attic.”
“Hey, ya’ve been married once, already. He can’t get too mad.”
“He never liked Vic all that much, anyway.” He hadn’t. Mama used to make Vic feel at home, pulling up a chair and setting a plate in front of him, but Pop would give him a peremptory little wave and flap his newspaper back in front of his face for the better part of the visit. “But ‘married once’ doesn’t excuse knocked up and shacked up now.”
“But, ya could shack up if worse came ta worse. Might even be for the best, woman. C’mon, now. That little sprout ya got growin’ inside ya probably can’t wait t’meet Daddy.”
Ororo made an exasperated noise, narrowing her eyes. “Okay. You’re beating it to death, now.”
“Beatin’ what?”
“A dead horse. Anna, things are complicated between Logan and me.”
“Then uncomplicate ‘em, shoog. Ah’m serious. He’s decent, works hard, and his eyes follow you in and out of the room. That man’s carryin’ a big-ass torch for ya, so quit tryin’ ta put it out!”
“But-“
“Uh-uh.”
“He-“
“Nuh-uh! Zip it, missy! Listen ta Auntie Anna. The two of ya can keep wastin’ time tiptoein’ around it, or ya can admit what’s obvious ta everybody else except you two knuckleheads. Ya care about each other. Ya might have issues, but who the hell doesn’t?”
“You just want me out of the apartment,” Ororo accused, but her cheeks were burning and she had a rash of staticky tingles running up and down her back. Thinking of Logan, what it would be like to wake up to him in the morning, without wondering when he would make his excuses to leave, or tiptoeing out and making a hasty exit herself. The memory of their first encounter, how hard it was to leave his solid warmth, chafed her.
"True. Ah ain’t gonna lie, sugah. But I also want ya ta consider that keeping him close might be a good idea. Ya have a stressful job. Ya need someone ta look after you.”
“Um, no.”
“Do, too. Ya work too many late nights and bring too much work home.” Ororo had brought her laptop home, and it was “sleeping” in her room atop her small desk. “Ya hafta look after yer health. Mah niece or nephew needs their beauty rest and fer Mama not t’be a basket case.” Anna toyed with her cereal while it slowly deteriorated into grayish slime in the bowl. “Look, ya left Boston and came back t’New York. Bravo. Ya were happier here than ya were in that office, anyway, and now ya don’t hafta deal with that Prada-wearing devil of a boss anymore.” Ororo huffed. “And ya have a chance ta start fresh with Jimbo.”
“Jimbo??? Ugh… no. Just, just don’t. He would never speak to either of us if you call that man Jimbo. Stick with Logan.”
“Fair enough. Called himself James when he was doin’ business. Mighta avoided some of the confusion if he’d started out as ‘Logan’ and stuck with it. The two of ya. Ah just wanna smack both yer heads together. But still, don’t throw me off track, here. Ah had a point.” She glanced away for a moment. “Shit. What was it?”
“Got me,” Ororo teased.
“Wait a minute, yeah. Yeah, I remember, now. No more hidin’ out in broom closets. Yer back on yer home turf. No Selene. Yer back among yer friends, in the market that yer familiar with, close to yer pop, and your baby daddy lives in the same town, now.”
“Baby daddy… that just made it so much worse.”
“But it could be worse. You know it could. This one’s different. He ain’t Vic.”
“I know he isn’t.”
“Yet yer actin’ like yer waitin’ for him ta turn into him. Look, Vic left. That’s no reason ta push Logan away, is it?”
“No. I just don’t know what I’m getting into if we try to turn this ‘knocked up’ thing into a ‘thing.’ See what I mean?”
“Nope.” A divot appeared between Anna’s brows. “Maybe ya better explain it ta me.”
“He lost his wife. He lost their baby, which he didn’t even know about, I might add. So, I move out of town, which he doesn’t do all that much to stop, until after I tell him about the baby.”
“Oh, Lawd…” Anna rolled her eyes. “Ya acted like ya didn’t want him ta stop ya! Poor man’s head’s probably spinning wondering what it is that ya really want!”
“Anna, I know he wants this baby. In an ideal world, maybe he would have had it with his wife. I’m already scared to death that I’ll manage to do this wrong.”
Anna’s face softened. “Tory, ya won’t. Ya hear me? Yer doin’ everything right, if ya just take care of yerself and let Logan help you, be there fer you. Don’t try ta do this by yerself. Don’t ask yerself what would’ve been if he were havin’ this baby with his first wife. Don’t beat yerself up. That’s enough of that, sugah.”
Ororo sighed, and her eyes flitted away, but Anna noticed that they were already glistening. She abandoned her breakfast, took Ororo’s mug away from her and set it on the counter. She dragged Ororo into a hug, ignoring how stiff she felt in her arms, at first. “It’s temptin’ ta wanna think about what things coulda been like between you an’ Vic if Nate were here.”
Ororo’s body relaxed, and she sagged against Anna, releasing a shaky sigh.
“That’s all I think about. I miss my son.”
“Ah know, sweetheart.”
“I miss him so much. I don’t want to do this wrong.”
“Ya won’t.”
“Okay.”
“Yer gonna be fine. Ya’ve got a lot of things ta figure out. Don’t try ta figure ‘em out all by yerself.”
“I can’t stop thinking about what I was supposed to have.”
“Ya don’t have to stop thinking about it. You’re always gonna miss Nate. That ain’t gonna change. And Logan knows that. That might be why he’s givin’ ya room ta think about things.” Anna stroked her hair. “He’s a nice guy. If anyone has any clue what ‘you were supposed ta have,’ it’s him, sugah.”
Ororo gently pulled away. She rubbed her eyes and leaned back against the counter. “I guess he does.”
“Okay. So. We can keep goin’ on how we are, darlin’, or we can write out a list of pros and cons of stayin’ here versus feeling Logan out for what he’s thinkin’ about a living arrangement.”
Ororo sighed again. It was going to be a long afternoon.
*
The list of cons involved in staying on the lease with Anna eventually outweighed those of moving out, even though Ororo didn’t feel like moving in with Logan was the immediate answer. Still, as much as she loved Anna:
Anna needed her beauty rest. Ororo’s baby seemed to get its kicks already from making her pee every three hours in the middle of the night and sending her sprinting to the bathroom to say goodbye to dinner from the night before at the crack of dawn.
Remy was a frequent visitor. That wasn’t bad. It was just weird seeing another disheveled bedhead at the breakfast table most mornings. With stubble. Who wasn’t Logan.
Ororo felt like a third wheel whenever she joined them on the couch to watch TV.
She didn’t want to think of the things that they got up to on the couch when she wasn’t there.
Ororo hated watching anyone else use her favorite mug. Every time she reached for it, Anna was eating instant noodles out of it.
Anna liked the apartment warm, almost to the point of being stuffy. Ororo preferred to fall asleep in a cool room, then pile on the blankets.
Remy ate her last sleeve of saltines and never replaced them. Strangely, that was the dealbreaker.
Ororo quietly reviewed her second list, scratched out in her slanted handwriting.
Reasons to move in with Logan:
He can cook.
He gives good foot rubs.
He lets her sleep on her favorite side of the bed. And he doesn’t mind when she shoves her cold feet between his ankles to warm them up. Her memories of the weekend they spent together made pleasant ripples run down her spine.
He’s a good companion to have on the subway and doesn’t judge her for her claustrophobia.
They have the same twisted sense of humor.
He didn’t mind her bad singing. Sometimes, he sang along just as badly.
He was sensible with money. He marked the due dates for all of his bills on a little whiteboard by his refrigerator. Ororo crunched numbers for a living, and he was more anal about money than she was.
They could talk about baby-related stuff, appointments, sit together with him touching her belly at home, without worrying about having to “sneak” the chance whenever he stopped by her office. Working with him was still weird. He was adjusting just fine to the New York office, and he had made a few friends, but people were beginning to give them knowing looks, not unlike the staff in the Boston office. Except this time, it wasn’t “are they or aren’t they?” Word got out about the positive blue stick (thanks, Yukio), so there was no more speculating. Ororo still felt self-conscious and just plain tired of people up in their business.
Logan noticed, too. She saw him looking over his shoulder every time he approached her door, always seeming to hurry to close it behind him once he came inside. It felt ridiculous, like they were sneaking around. It wasn’t like they were even doing anything wrong. They were of an age. They were both single. There was no need for raised eyebrows. No one so much as batted an eye when Selene and Donald got engaged, or, more interestingly, when Scott began seriously dating Madelyne Pryor. Pictures of him with the redheaded account manager draped over him were plastered all over his Facebook.
She came back into the kitchen to make another cup of tea, stirring in a generous amount of honey.
“Well?” Anna pried.
“Tell Remy I want him to reimburse my half of the security deposit,” Ororo told her, sighing. “And that until I get my new place, he’d better put the damned seat down.”
Anna squealed and hugged her. Ororo silently asked herself if she knew what she was getting into.
Now came the tricky part. She had to broach the subject with Logan, and prepare for the fact that he might have as many misgivings as she did.
*
Broaching the subject was easier than she thought.
She heard a brusque knock on her door and looked up from her Excel sheet. Logan was peering at her through the gap in her door’s vinyl blinds. His expression was uncertain, like he was chewing on something. “Come in,” she called out. And when he let himself in, she marveled at how good he looked in that Burberry suit in worsted wool. “What can I do for you, Mr. Howlett?” she asked him, straight-faced but with a teasing note in her voice.
He huffed, shaking his head. He tugged on the hair at the nape of his neck, and his posture was almost… awkward. Uncharacteristically ill at ease. “It’s like this, Tory… I mean… I’ve been meanin’ ta talk to you about… Fuck.”
“Okay,” Ororo murmured, crinkling her brow and backing away from her desk slightly to give him her full attention.
“Sorry.”
“No worries.”
“Let me start again. We’re havin’ a baby.”
“Uh-huh.”
“It’s comin’ up pretty soon. It’s good ta have a plan in place and be on the same page.”
“Sage words.” Her voice was bland, but a smile was tugging at her lips.
"Ya already mentioned that ya plan on going to yer dad's for the holidays, right?" And he looked a little resigned about that, even deflated.
“That was the plan.”
“That’s cool. I just thought it might be nice, if my family got ta meet ya at some point. What with my pop probably wondering what the mother of his grandchild is like, an’ all.”
“I can see where that might be a concern,” Ororo deadpanned.
Logan looked like he was about to continue, then pulled himself up short, narrowing his eyes. “That sounded kinda smart-assed.”
“Not at all.”
“Are ya implyin’ that yer dad has reason ta be concerned about meeting me?”
Now she outright chuckled, showing him a modicum of mercy. “No need to be concerned at all. You two might end up being peas in a pod. Just don’t be offended if he greets you at the front door with a shotgun, at first.”
“Oh, that’s no pressure at all.” He huffed a laugh and leaned against the edge of her desk. “So. Speakin’ about going home ta meet yer dad… I’ve been meaning ta breach the subject of ‘home’ with ya.”
She felt her cheeks heat up and a funny little tingle run through her belly. “Oh? You have?”
He rubbed his nape again and sighed. “Tory… I wanna be close to you and the baby.”
“We work together. Can’t get much closer than that.” She didn’t want to let him completely off the hook. Some selfish, niggling part of her wanted to hear him ask. Just for posterity.
Just… because.
“Might get a little closer, kiddo. I’m gettin’ settled in. Got a month-to-month lease at the moment.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Place is the size of a shoebox.”
“I bet. This is New York,” she quipped. She took a sip of her black chai tea and made a face; it was lukewarm and down to the last few tablespoons, so all of the sweetener pooled up in the bottom.
Logan scowled. “Is that decaf?”
“Are you kidding? Of course not! Decaf is the tool of the Devil, I will have you know.”
“No caffeine. It’s not good fer pregnant women.”
“Excuse me? Says who?”
“All the baby books and the parenting articles and Dr. Oz. And Oprah.”
She sensed he was fibbing. “Oprah? Oprah said that?”
“Probably. But still. No caffeine. Ya don’t need it.” His expression was mulish.
Ororo made a low “pfffttt” sound with her lip and rolled her blue eyes, but he folded his arms. “I need my caffeine. I need it to function. I need it to do the adulty things. I’m unpleasant without it.”
“So, yer tellin’ me that this right now is you on caffeine?”
“WHAT?!? Oh, you… okay. Get out. Out of my office…” She stood and attempted to shoo him off of her desk, but he held up his hands in an appeasing gesture.
“Take it easy. Sorry. That was bad.”
“Very.”
“But back to that ‘home’ question.”
“You never really asked it.”
“Okay. So. Whaddya think?”
“Of?”
“We both work pretty decent jobs. Like I said before, my place is the size of a shoe box. I’m looking ta upgrade.”
“Okay.”
She watched him straighten up and draw in toward her, close enough for her to smell his aftershave. His hands were gentle when he reached for her, taking her slender, cool hands into his. She shivered at his warmth.
“And the two of us might be able ta find a nicer place if… if we moved in together.”
“So, we shack up?”
“That ain’t how I was gonna phrase it. We’re grownups, kiddo.” But his hazel eyes crinkled and he tried to suppress his smile. “C’mon. I’m pleadin’ my case, here.”
“You’re doing a great job of it, too. Go on.”
“Seriously?”
“Give me a list of the pros.” Her thumbs stroked his fingers, though, in a telling way, and she felt a funny tremor of excitement in her stomach. Or, it could have been gas. Lately, she couldn’t quite tell. The baby was the size of a walnut and he was already wreaking havoc with her innards.
“I’d get to see the baby. The baby would get to see me.”
“Mmmm. True.”
“I’d get to see you for more than five minutes. Without a conference phone between us.”
“That could be an advantage.”
“Sure as hell is, darlin’.”
The pet name shivered down her back and all the way to her toes; she remembered how it felt husked into her ear in the dark, breathed into the side of her neck… Ororo cleared her throat.
“And it’d give us time ta talk about things. Time we haven’t really had.”
“O…kaayyy. What. Things?” That drew her up short.
“About why ya left Boston. More specifically, why ya left me.”
And there it was. Boom, goes the lightning.
"Leaving was about keeping my job, Logan. Not about leaving you.”
“Ya know I don’t believe that,” he said softly.
“Logan, if you think my leaving was all about you, then why ask me to move in with you? Isn’t it just about the baby?”
She saw “ felt “ the shift in him. His shoulders stiffened, and he sighed deep and heavy, then shook his head. “It can’t be about you, darlin’?” And she wanted to believe him, so badly. Those dark eyes bore into hers. “It can’t be about us?”
“Is it?” Her voice sounded uncertain to her own ears.
“Were you afraid of what was happening between us, Tory? Hm? Do ya have yer doubts about me? Not because of what ya had with Vic, and how things ended with him, but because of me?”
Her skin felt tight and her throat was trying to close up. Her mouth went so dry. “No,” she huffed. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” Something loosened in her chest at those words. It freed some of the emotions clogging up her insides. “You never did anything wrong.” Her eyes flitted away from the intensity in his, but he tugged her closer to him, his large hands feeling warm around her waist. She grew self-conscious about it, wondering if he noticed her thickening around the middle. If he still found her attractive. If-
“Tell me about the things I’ve done right, then. I need to know, darlin’.”
A rough little laugh escaped her. “What? Like a list?”
“A short list?” he suggested.
“Not… that short.”
“That’s encouraging.” He looked put out. She chuckled and tugged briefly on his carefully knotted tie.
“There are some good things. Even when you have your clothes on.”
His eyes crinkled with the slow smile that spread across his face, and that was it, she mused. That. Definitely on the list.
“You make me laugh.”
“Took a while, darlin’. You can be a little hard ta read.”
“Am not.”
“A little.” He held up his finger and thumb, with very little space in between.
“You’re definitely blunt. I’m still deciding if that’s a pro or a con, mind you…”
“Hey!”
“Just being honest.”
“Maybe you can go back ta bein’ hard ta read.”
“Nope.” Her hands slid up to his shoulders, temptingly broad and firm, his flesh radiating heat beneath the sateen of his shirt. “And I like the way you look at me.”
“How’s that? How do I look at you, Tory?”
“Like I’m the only one in the room. Like you can’t take your eyes off of me.”
“Because I can’t.”
She didn’t resist his kiss, and her arms stole around his neck. This was what she had missed. Too much tiptoeing around it, not enough time alone, and this was the thing she couldn’t describe to him, the magnetic pull between them, how she was left with a hollow ache inside now, when she had to be away from him at night.
Her move had killed her. Her body remembered his touch, his scent, the sound of his voice, his breath misting over her skin. She could only admit to herself that he was her lodestone, always pointing north. Toward home.
Yet home was New York. He’d followed her this far. And he’d missed her, clearly. The kiss refused to end, and she was clinging to him, a small moan escaping her that tingled the whole way down his spine, tightening his grip on her. Her fingers curled into his thick hair at his nape, and he shuddered at the light scratch of her nails.
Scott’s words haunted him. He longed to tell her that he loved her, but he wanted her to believe him. Things were tenuous and still riddled with questions.
She pulled back with some difficulty. They were both breathing hard. “Okay,” she rasped. “That’s on the list. You know that, right?”
“Kinda figured. Hope so, darlin’.”
“We can check that one off.”
“Fine by me. C’mere.” His mouth was too tempting, firm and hot beneath hers, and she barely noticed that he’d unbuttoned her blazer. His fingers were hot through the thin silk of her blouse, and she made an indecent noise when he caught her breast, thumb flicking over her obliging nipple. That was when she remembered their surroundings. Her office. They were going at it like rabbits in her office.
She pulled back, and his eyes were dark with passion, expression dazed. “What?” he asked. She felt a little smug that he was panting.
“People are already talking.”
“I don’t care. Not one fucking bit. You don’t, either.”
Didn’t she?
That had been one of the things that Selene had breathed down her neck about, accusing her of being unprofessional. Of “questionable” workplace conduct. Logan watched her expressions, seeing the moment that she began to shut him out, forgetting about “them” and getting caught up in something uncomfortable, something she couldn’t stop chewing on.
“Can’t do this here,” she reminded him as she drew back. She rebuttoned her blazer, mentally scolding herself that it was getting more difficult with her pregnancy. Logan reached up and straightened his tie. His shirt was faintly rumpled, but his whole face shuttered, as though the kiss hadn’t happened.
“Then pick the place.”
“The place?”
“Not here. My place? Yours? Supply closet? I ain’t picky.”
“Pffttt…” She shook her head and gave him a look. “Really?”
“Things were just getting interesting last time, Tory.”
“You’re awful. You realize that?”
“But that goes back to our original discussion. I want more time with you. I want to be able to have these conversations and not worry about someone busting in that door, or my office, or someone catching me staring at your legs of giving myself a quick peek down yer blouse.”
Tory sighed. “You have a one-track mind.”
“Can’t have too much of a good thing.”
That made her cheeks burn. “No more supply closets.”
“Then what’s your suggestion?”
“Ask me on a date.”
He huffed, staring at her. “A date.”
“Yes. A real date. We did things backwards.”
“That’s the understatement of the year.”
“But yes. I want you to take me on a date. Normal people go on dates. People who have relationships with any semblance of hope that they can function go on dates, Logan.”
“Mexico didn’t count?”
“Nooooooooo. Nope. That was an ‘encounter.’” She made quotey fingers around it. “You said this isn’t just about the baby. We might be a package deal, but I don’t want to just be the one carrying your child. I know what the baby means to you. But I have to know what I mean to you if we’re going to do this right, James.”
Uh-oh. James.
“That weekend in Boston?”
“Fantastic,” she purred. “But, no. Doesn’t count. Still an example of us doing things backwards.”
“So, ya want us to rewind? Go all the way back to where?”
“Tell me you’ve noticed me. Save the clever pick-up lines.”
“You sure? I’ve got some awesome ones, darlin’.”
“Ask me if I want to grab dinner. Make a suggestion that I wear something nice. And don’t bring small talk to the table. We can skip that much, at least. But don’t skip the rest.”
“That’s what ya want.”
“That’s what I want. If you want me, like you say you want me. If you think we can make a go of moving in together, Logan, we have to do this right.”
He mulled that for a moment. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
He turned on his heel and headed for the door.
“Logan-“
“I’ll let you get back to your work, Miss Munroe. Sorry to interrupt.”
“What-“
Her door clicked shut behind him.
“What the fuck just happened?”
She went back to her emails, tempted to call him back. Email him. Follow him down the corridor, except um, no. That would set tongues wagging worse than before.
Blast that man.
*
Yukio texted her on her phone. What’s going on with you two? Logan’s been weird today.
Ororo chuckled without mirth. “Today, huh?” she said aloud as she typed.
Please tell me you aren’t having a tiff?
“Nnnnnnope. Just dandy.”
Then the thought occurred to her. “How ‘weird’ is weird?”
He asked me about good restaurants for a first date. Can you believe that?
“No,” Ororo breathed aloud. The invisible bands around her chest for the better part of the afternoon snapped.
“Wow.”
She argued with herself about the implications of it for the rest of her day, and she logged off of her PC. Her stomach was growling savagely, and she dug into her saltine supply. Her stomach only had two settings, “Nauseous” and “Wave a Strip of Bacon Under My Nose, and See How Much of Your Hand You Come Back With.”
She felt hot and uncomfortable, feet swollen in her high heels, feeling the faint hint of bloat that always settled over her toward the end of the day and that definitely plagued her when she was pregnant. Ororo yearned for comfy PJ bottoms, a baggy tee, and red meat. In that order. She unbuttoned her blazer and slung her purse strap over her shoulder, laptop swinging from her hand in its case.
Before she could press the button for the elevator, Logan’s hand beat her to it. She gave him a look.
“Got a minute?”
“Maybe a minute. I have a train to catch.”
“After you.” He extended his hand toward the inside of the elevator with a flourish. Ororo smirked.
“Thank you, polite stranger.”
“My pleasure. Hope ya don’t mind me bein’ so bold when I tell you, miss. You have a nice pair of legs.”
Ororo blushed, ducking her face to hide her smile. “That was a little bold.”
“Just being honest.”
“Honesty is rare these days. Thank you, sir.”
“No. Thank you.”
She cleared her throat and counted the floors as they lit up on the display while they descended.
“Noticed you around the building. Always wanted to talk to you, but I could never find a good opener.”
“So you held the elevator,” she pointed out. “Effective.”
“Was it?”
“We’re talking. You caught my attention.”
“Good. Mind if I’m a little bold again?”
“How bold?”
“Dinner. I’d like to take ya to dinner.”
“Dinner.”
“Because I’ve gotta admit, miss, I just can’t shake this funny feeling that we’d have a lot to talk about. Think we might get along really well.”
Her lips twitched. “That was awful.”
“Cut a guy a break, darlin’.”
Her smile spread slowly, widely, and her eyes were warm. “I’d love to go out to dinner, if you tell me your name.”
“James Howlett. But my friends call me Logan.”
“I like Logan. Suits you. Ororo Munroe. I also answer to Tory.”
“Charmed, Tory.”
Because this was the other part that they’d skipped, caught up in the thrall of the sandy beach and the tang of tequila and limes, seeing the colors and brilliance of the sunset in each other’s eyes. While they were searching for an escape. Logan wondered if she was ready to stop running.
“Logan, I would love to go to dinner with you.”
“Mind if I make a suggestion?”
“Suggest away.”
“Well, it’s more of a request, Tory.”
“Name it.”
“Wear something red.”
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