Rock-A-Bye Bride. Tracy Madison
but she didn’t say no and she didn’t voice any objections. Logan simply opened his arms and waited. She hesitated, briefly, before stepping into his embrace, and with her cheek pressed against his chest and her arms wrapped around his waist, her tears started coming faster and harder.
And Logan didn’t know if this was the right or wrong decision, holding Anna in such an intimate way, but he didn’t much care, either. She needed him, he was her husband and it was his job—at least for the next seventeen or so months—to take care of her.
After a while, he moved them to the living room, to the sofa, and covered them both with a blanket. Slowly her crying subsided and she stopped shivering, but they stayed as they were. It seemed their bodies had melded into one, they were so entwined with each other, and between that and Anna’s scent—a little spicy, a little sweet—and the soft brush of her hair against his jaw, Logan started questioning every last one of his self-made promises.
Because holding Anna, being surrounded by Anna, being there for Anna, felt more real, more right, more true than any other experience in Logan’s life thus far. All of this could be due to what he’d already considered, that Anna was the mother of his unborn baby and therefore was able to elicit from Logan a mass of unprecedented emotions.
Could be that, and he wasn’t anywhere close to ruling out that possibility.
But maybe he should widen his scope some. Consider if this rightness he felt might mean something a lot more lasting than a temporary, in-name-only marriage. Without, of course, doing anything that could jeopardize what he and Anna had already agreed upon.
Yeah, that could work. He’d just keep his hands on the steering wheel and take it nice and slow, see what his heart told him one day at a time, where it led him once their baby was born, and go from there. There was no cause to rush into a damn thing.
Hell, truth was, he had well over a year to figure this out.
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