Chapter 57: Chapter Fifty-Seven

RAE

Logan’s Aunt Tricia has spent most of her life traveling the world, working remotely for the consulting business she co-owns with her best friend.

She only moved back to the U.S. when Logan’s dad got sick, and she’s staying here until his mom gets back on her feet.

I’m not so sure that will be any time soon, but she doesn’t seem to be in a huge rush. I guess that happens when you’ve already lived in thirty-three countries and visited almost double that.

I’m a little intimidated by Aunt Tricia, mainly because I typically don’t do well around intense, brash people.

Zoe, of course, is the exception to that rule, which I credit to our decade and a half of friendship. Anyway, there’s something about people who lack filters that causes mine to overcompensate.

When I converse with someone who’s overly bold, I clam up and stutter and turn bright red.

What makes this even—more—intimidating is how important Aunt Tricia is to Logan. Although she’s out of the country far more often than she’s here, she’s always managed to stay close to her godson.

They video-chat and text a lot when she’s abroad, and she’s never failed to visit for his birthday.

I might be reading too deeply into her actions, but I think she knew that her brother wasn’t exactly the greatest parent and tried to fill that hole by giving Logan the attention he needed.

Not that I would ever, ever, in a million years share that theory with Logan.

Naturally, in true Rae Olson form, I’m shaking like a freaking leaf as we approach the bungalow she’s renting in Capitol Hill, a cute residential neighborhood in Salt Lake City, where the Capitol building is located.

“She loves you already,” Logan says soothingly. “She’s going to be pumped.”

I nod. “About the baby too?”

Logan hasn’t told his family about our little bean yet. I insisted we wait until I reached the second trimester to share the news with mine, but we’re well into that now, and he still hasn’t said a thing.

Deep down, I know he’s been putting it off because being around his mother is stressful and leaves him feeling miserable, but I can’t stop myself from wondering if he’s ashamed.

Anxiety and depression have a way of torturing me via my own thoughts, but the series of events ~could~ raise some questions. An unexpected pregnancy with his girlfriend.

A proposal not long after, even though he bought the ring prior to our happy surprise’s existence (~swoon~).

From an outsider’s point of view, the whole situation is sketchy, and I kind of sound like a gold-digger—an awkward, shy gold-digger Logan once (kind of) employed—who’s trapping him into a pregnancy and forcing a shotgun wedding.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if she postpones her next trip just so she can babysit occasionally,” Logan says softly, lips brushing my cheek.

That’s exactly what I needed to hear. Okay. I can do this.

Logan knocks on the door and squeezes my hand.

“Rae! Logan!” Aunt Tricia exclaims when she opens the door. “Lorraine, look who’s here!” Her eyes drift to my belly, and then—“Holy shit! Logan, when were you going to tell me?”

“We wanted to give it a couple of months,” Logan laughs.

“Fair, fair,” she grumbles. “Rae, congratulations! How far along are you?”

“Four months.” I’m trying to keep my voice steady and strong, but her eyes are boring into my stomach, and I’m absolutely terrified of what she’s thinking about me right now.

What if she assumes I lied about the pill or poked holes in condoms or something? That’s what gold-diggers do, according to rap, and I very much do not want to be perceived as one.

“Come on in.” She beckons us inside. “Your mother’s in the kitchen,” she says to Logan, her voice suddenly low.

Logan grimaces. “Is she doing any better?”

“Yes and no. We got her into counseling, but the first weeks are pretty tough emotionally. Nothing for you to worry about, though.”

Logan raises his eyebrows and parts his lips, but Aunt Tricia barrels through, “She’ll be thrilled. Come on.”

“We have more good news,” I hear myself saying. I think I’m subconsciously trying to make Logan happier.

Maybe consciously now that I figured it out? I don’t know. Regardless, I stick out my left hand, and Aunt Tricia gasps.

“Jesus, Logan. You’ve got good taste.”

He winks at me. “I sure do.”

Aunt Tricia doesn’t release my hand until we’re in the kitchen, crowded around a cramped circular table that I think is meant for two people, not that I’m judging.

Zoe and I don’t even have a dining room table. We just eat on the couch or, if we’re feeling fancy, at the counter.

“Hey, Mom.” Logan nudges Lorraine. I decided that if I’m going to be Mrs. Quincy, I have to stop calling his mom that, so we’re on a first-name basis in my head now.

“Logan, honey.” Her voice is tired, but she doesn’t seem as frail as the last time I saw her. Something tells me Aunt Tricia isn’t afraid to force food down her throat if she’s not in the mood for three meals a day.

“I’m great, Mom. Rae and I have some big news.”

Lorraine twitches when she looks at me, almost as if she didn’t notice I’m here. I might be taking up more space now that I’m pregnant, but I’m still same-old Rae, blending into the background.

I hold up my left hand awkwardly, and her eyes widen.

“Logan,” she gasps. “Beautiful.”

“Thanks, Mom. We’ve got some other news too. Rae and I are having a baby. She’s four months along.”

Lorraine’s eyes fill with tears. For a second, I’m worried she’s going to tell me to leave or accuse me of gold-digging, but she stands instead.

Based on Aunt Tricia and Logan’s wide-eyed reactions, I think Lorraine willingly jumping to her feet is a big deal.

I’m certain the hug she gives me next, her thin arms light as feathers around my shoulders, is a ~very~ big deal.

“Welcome, Rae,” she whispers.

I think she just welcomed me to the family. Tears spring from my eyes. “Thank you,” I choke out.

“Boy or girl?” Aunt Tricia asks.

“We find out Wednesday,” Logan replies, grinning.

“A girl,” I blurt out. “I just know it.”

Lorraine nods. “Mothers know.”

I smile, thankful for the validation. Everyone thinks I’m crazy for insisting that our little bean is a girl, but I’ve had this unshakable feeling since the day those two lines showed up on the test.

“So, Rae, how’d my godson propose?” Aunt Tricia wiggles her eyebrows like she’s about to hear some juicy gossip.

I blush. I know I’m engaged and pregnant with Logan’s kid and all that, but I still go red when he does over-the-top stuff like, you know, the world’s most perfect proposal.

“Want me to tell?” Logan asks softly.

I shake my head. I can do this. “My best friend, Zoe, took me out for a couple of hours. I thought we were just going out for lunch and for a walk, but then I got back and—”

~Do I tell them about the rose petals? Is that too suggestive~? “—and my apartment was all decorated and beautiful, and I’m a photographer, and Logan hung pictures on the wall that spelled out ‘will you marry me?’”

Lorraine wipes her eyes. Aunt Tricia claps her hands together and exclaims, “Damn, Logan!”

Not going to lie, I’m impressed they followed my rambling.

He shrugs, but his lips are lifting with a small smile. “She said yes, so it worked out the way I hoped.”

“Your parents must be ecstatic, Rae,” Aunt Tricia says, grinning.

“We haven’t, um… We…” I trail off.

“We’re going to tell them another day,” Logan replies.

“Ah, I see. Well, Lorraine and I are ~so~ excited for you both. I knew Rae was a keeper the day you introduced us.”

“Eric too,” Lorraine whispers.

Our heads whip toward her. I’m not sure where that came from, because Logan’s dad ~hated~ me after the stunt Taylor pulled during his resignation announcement.

“Wh-what?” It’s the first time I’ve ever heard Logan stammer.

“He said you were happy,” she sighs.

“Mom, he wasn’t—” Logan swallows “—he wasn’t really ~with it~ when Rae and I started dating.”

“He heard. He told me.”

Logan scrunches his brows as he drums his fingers against the table, agitated. Aunt Tricia clears her throat, but he speaks before she seizes the chance to simmer down the situation. “What are you talking about?” he demands.

“No. He told me. In a dream. He said Rae is your balance. Balances you.”

“That’s lovely, Lorraine,” Aunt Tricia says quickly.

Logan’s face is going red now, and I can’t blame him. His mom definitely just got his hopes up that his dad woke up and spoke about him while he was sick.

Logan doesn’t believe in an afterlife, so there’s no chance he thinks his father actually communicated via his mom in a dream.

Honestly, I don’t either. I mean, I doubt she’s lying, and I’m beyond relieved that she approves of me, but I don’t think that Mr. Quincy gave her that dream or sent her a message.

“Great. That’s great, Mom.” Logan’s voice teeters on the edge of sarcasm and pure anger. “Rae and I need to head out. We’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Bye,” Lorraine mumbles. At least, that’s what I think she said. Her face is buried in her hands, so her voice is all muffled.

“I’ll walk you out.” Aunt Tricia leads us to the front door. “Rae, as always, it’s a pleasure to see you. I couldn’t be more excited for you both.”

I’m not particularly surprised that Aunt Tricia’s hugs are bone-crushing. I squeeze her back, feeling pretty feeble. Feeble but loved. Stupid, I know.

I’ve seen Aunt Tricia three times. The first was at her brother’s wake, the second at his funeral.

Obviously, she doesn’t know me well enough yet to love me, but I’m still all warm and tingly inside because she accepts me with open arms (literally).

She loves Logan like he’s her own son, and she’s happy that I’m marrying him, that I’m carrying his child. She’s a lot like my dad in that sense. Loving. Accepting. Happy if her loved ones are happy.

“Aunt Trish, you’re going to suffocate my fiancée,” Logan groans.

“No. I give the best hugs, don’t I, Rae?”

If I’m being objective, Courtney gives the best hugs (not that I’d ever tell Logan), but I nod and say, “She does, Logan.”

He rolls his eyes. “She’s just saying that so you don’t squeeze her to death again.”

“Your turn to suffocate,” she says with a wink. She whispers something into his ear while they’re hugging that causes his face to fall.

I was proud of myself for making it through the entire visit without fidgeting with one of my necklaces, but that winning streak comes to an abrupt end when Logan grimaces and rolls his eyes, irritated.

I take hold of the crystal dangling from the longest chain and spin it around my finger, channeling all my stress into the sterling silver.

Logan sighs when we’re in the car. “You know what I’ve been thinking?”

I don’t know what he’s been thinking. I’m getting better at it, but Logan is difficult to read. “What have you been thinking?”

“We’re going to be great parents. We’ve learned a lot about what not to do from ours.”

Just a few months ago, Logan would still be fuming. He probably would have lost Aunt Tricia her security deposit by punching a hole in the wall.

After everything he’s been through in the past six months, I would completely understand.

But he didn’t. And I shared the news all by myself.

We’re doing it. We’re bettering ourselves for our baby.

“Yeah, we are,” I agree, resting my head on his shoulder as we idle in the driveway. “We’re already doing a pretty good job if I may say so myself.”

He kisses my forehead, and then he brings out his British accent. It’s the only thing in the world Logan Quincy is bad at. “You may, my lady.”