My dad is looking down at his phone. “Can we leave now?”

Logan helps my mom into her coat and then helps me into mine. He leans down close to my ear as he spins me away from him. “You look good enough to eat.”

My heart leaps. So do you, I sign.

His brows arch. Don’t talk like that. I’m wearing some silk boxers your mom picked out. He adjusts his pants.

I grin at him. We get in the elevator, and he signs to me from the back. Are you all right? You look upset?

I’m fine. Just told Trip he has to find a place to live.

He rolls his eyes. He already did.

He’s working on it.

I’ll believe it when I see it.

Henry rushes forward and opens the door for us when we get downstairs. “You look lovely, Miss Madison,” he says to me as Trip gets into the limo. I squeeze Henry’s hand. He holds the door of the limo, and I slide inside. Logan gets in next to me, and I don’t feel at peace until his shoulder touches mine.

You sure you’re okay? he asks. He tucks a lock of hair behind my ear, his hands lingering at my temple. I arch into him like a cat and pull his hand down so I can kiss the center of his palm.

I lean my head on his shoulder and nod. I am okay, as long as he’s beside me.

Logan

I don’t know what happened while I was getting dressed but something did. I can tell it by the way Emily holds herself, as though she’s suddenly made of ice and she’s bracing for the break of a hammer against her fragile surface. I’m on one side of Emily, and Trip is on the other. His thigh touches hers, and she moves over closer to me, inching away from him. He spreads his legs wider. I lean forward to look at him around her and look down at his leg. He shifts subtly as his chest bellows with a heavy sigh. But he’s no longer pressed along her side.

Her parents sit across from us, and her dad is buried in his Blackberry. Her mom watches my subtle exchange with Trip, and she smiles at me. “Have your fall classes started yet, Logan?” she asks.

I take Emily’s hand and thread her fingers through mine, our palms facing each other’s. “Yes, ma’am. I started a week ago.”

“Shouldn’t you be at home getting your schoolwork done?” her dad asks suddenly, looking up from his phone.

“No, sir. I already did all my work.”

“What’s your major?” Mrs. Madison asks.

“I’m double majoring in Art and Advertising,” I say.

Emily tugs on my arm as she sits forward in her seat. “You should see some of his art. It’s really amazing.”

“Do you do paintings, Logan?” her mom asks.

“I use different mediums,” I say. “It depends on what fits the situation.”

She points to the tattoo on Emily’s wrist. “Like that one?”

“Oh, he didn’t do this,” Emily says. “His oldest brother Paul did this.” She strokes her hand down the inside of her forearm. “It was a surprise for Logan.”

“How did you two meet?” she asks. She tilts her head to the side. Something tells me that she already knows the story, but her husband has set aside his Blackberry and is listening now.

Emily looks up at me and blinks her pretty brown eyes. “I went into his tattoo shop to get a tattoo.” She grins. “And he put the moves on me.” She nudges me in the side. “Can I tell them what happened next?” I can feel her laughter against my side.

“She punched me in the face, Mrs. Madison.” I reach up and absently stroke across my nose.

“He tried to put the moves on me, and I was angry.” She shrugs, but she’s still laughing. “I’ll never forget the look on his face.”

“One minute I think I’m going to get to spend some time with a pretty girl,” I say. Emily squeezes my hand when I say “spend some time” because we both know I tried to lay her, just like I used do with every woman I met. “And the next, she breaks my nose.”

Emily laughs. She tugs my sleeve until I look down at her. “You never tried that move on anyone else, did you? After that?”

“You cured me of that particular move,” I say. I laugh because it’s funny now. It wasn’t nearly as funny then. It f**king hurt.

“Was it love at first sight?” her mom asks.

I look down into Emily’s eyes. I was intrigued by her the moment I saw that tattoo she wanted. There was so much in that drawing that made me want to get to know her. But she wouldn’t let me. “It was almost instantaneous for me,” I admit.

Trip jabs a finger toward his throat like he wants to make himself throw up, but I think I’m the only one who sees it.

“It took me a little longer,” she says. “He and his brothers let me stay with them for a little while.”

Her father arches his eyebrows.

Emily rushes on to say, “He slept on the couch and let me have his bedroom.”

Her father glares at me. I only slept on the couch for half of that first night. The rest of the time, I spent in bed with her. I didn’t have sex with her, though, not until she was willing to open up to me. She had too many secrets in the beginning.

“My family would like to have you over for dinner one night before you leave town. So everyone can meet.” I hadn’t told Emily that yet, but Paul brought it up. It’s a good idea.

“I think that sounds lovely, Logan,” Mrs. Madison says.

“Sounds like an interesting night,” Mr. Madison adds.

“I got my class schedule nailed down last week,” Emily says, changing the subject. Her father huffs, his chest bellowing with air.

“I hope it’s not going to be too difficult for you, dear,” her mom says. Emily stiffens.

“I’ll be fine with it.”

“Anything exciting with your music, dear?” her mom asks. At least she tries to look like she cares.

“There’s a big show coming up at the end of the week. I have to prepare an original piece to perform.” Her brow furrows, and I can tell she’s unsure about it.

“Sounds exciting,” her mom says with a smile. She tugs on her husband’s sleeve. “Doesn’t it, darling?”

He shrugs her hand off his arm. “Sounds like a waste of time.”

“Emily’s a talented musician,” I break in. I won’t let them put down her art. “You’ve never even heard her play.”

“And you have?” he shoots back.

“I might not be able to hear, but I can see the passion in her eyes and feel the joy in her heart when she’s playing, Mr. Madison.” I take a deep breath. “The crowd loves her. And she loves music. So, I love to watch her play.” I lean down and kiss her forehead. “I’ll be at your show, no matter what.”

She smiles up at me and lays her head on my arm.

“So will we,” her mother declares. I’m not going to hold my breath.

“I hope you’ll get this music idea out of your system soon and get back to real life.”

I stiffen, squeezing her hand.

“This is real life, Dad,” she says. “This is my life. And I’m living it the way I want.”

Her mother winks at her. “Let her be, darling,” she says sweetly. But there’s some steel behind her words, too, if her posture is any indication.

Everyone in the limo stops talking. I look from person to person, just to be sure I’m not missing anything. But no one is saying anything. Emily is looking past me, out the window. And there’s a noticeable divide between her parents. Trip is cool and collected. The fucker.

Emily

Logan is the most handsome man in the whole room. And I’m not just saying that because he’s mine. There are a lot of models wearing Madison Avenue clothes, and none of them wear them as well as Logan does. He’s just darn handsome.

My dad’s new ad campaign is displayed on bulletin boards around the room. Logan stops in front of one and scrunches up his nose.

“You don’t like it?” I ask.

He shrugs. “It’s fine, I guess.”

I tilt my head, trying to see what he sees in the pictures. “What’s wrong with it?”

He shrugs again. “Nothing really. I just think it could be better.”

Trip claps a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll be sure to tell the big guy how much you like his ad campaign.” He winks at me. He’s such an ass. I can’t believe I ever considered marrying him at all.

“Your dad will have one more reason to hate me,” he says. He squeezes my hand, though.

One of the models approaches us and lays a hand on Logan’s arm. “Would you like to dance with me?” she asks.

He shakes his head and politely declines. Then he adds, “I’m going to dance with my girl.” He takes my hand and pulls me out onto the floor. He smiles down at me. “I can’t feel the beat to this kind of music.”

He looks around at the other couples. I see my dad step onto the floor with the model who approached Logan, and I roll my eyes. Logan takes me in his arms, his hand holding mine. He pulls me close to him, just a breath away, not touching, and my heart starts to flutter. Will I ever get used to being with this man who makes me feel so perfect?

He picks up the rhythm of the music by watching the other dancers. “You’re pretty good at this,” I say. He just smiles and shrugs. “Mom made us all take dance lessons when we were young. Paul did a year of ballet before he grew enough balls to tell her he wouldn’t do it anymore.” He chuckles. I’ll never enjoy a sound more than that of his laughter.

When we first met, he didn’t speak at all. He started talking again for me, and it took him even longer to learn to laugh. Sometimes he can’t tell how loud he is, and he doesn’t alter his voice well enough for the situation.

This is one of those times.

My dad shoots me a glare. I look up at Logan and just smile.

“What’s bothering you?” he asks.

“Not a thing,” I say. And it’s not. I’d trade my right arm for his voice, if someone told me I had to choose between the two. Hearing his words, his laughter and his thoughts means the world to me.

My dad dances close to us, and suddenly, he’s pulling us apart and taking Logan’s place. “You don’t mind if I cut in, do you?” he asks Logan, but he doesn’t look at Logan when he says it.

Logan raises a curious brow at me. I mouth the word sorry to him. He smiles and shakes his head.

My dad abandoned his dancing partner on the floor, and she approaches Logan and holds out her arms. Logan looks down at her for a moment, and I see his chest bellow with a sigh before he takes her hand in his and puts one on her waist. I don’t like it. Not at all.

“Stop looking like that, Emily,” my dad warns. “The boy is doing fine.”

“I’m not worried, Dad,” I protest. Well, I kind of am. Logan isn’t used to these kinds of parties. There are a lot of people here who make a lot of money.

“Mmm hmm,” he hums. He spins me around in a circle, and surprisingly, it makes me laugh. My dad looks happy.... Something is up. I can feel it.

He skirts around the edges of the dance floor until I lose sight of Logan completely. “You can do better, Em,” he says. “A lot better.”

I grit my teeth together. “Define better, Dad,” I toss back. “I highly doubt that I can do better than a man who loves me like crazy, who will care for me and be there for me for the rest of my life.”

“He’s not our kind, Em,” my dad says.

“He’s not your kind, Dad,” I breathe out on a heavy sigh. “He’s most definitely my kind.”

“You can do better.” He pinches his lips together in a straight line. “Trip is afraid that you think you can’t do better than Logan because of your dyslexia.”

I stop and step back. “What?” He may as well have kneed me in the gut. Trip said as much to me, but I never expected my dad to even entertain the idea. “I just want what’s best for you.”

“Then let me be,” I say. I step back, and I walk around the edge of the dance floor looking for Logan. I am seething. The crowd parts to get out of my way. Except for Trip. Trip steps up beside me and holds out his arms for a dance.

“No, thank you,” I grit out.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, as though he’s all concerned.

“Nothing.” I don’t want to talk to Trip.

“You’re angry because Logan went outside with that girl?”

My eyes immediately meet his, and then his gaze skitters away. “What girl?” I ask. The girl he was dancing with? “Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know, but they were looking pretty chummy.” He shrugs and points toward the terrace.

Logan is coming in the door at the same time I’m going out it. He’s tucking his shirt into his pants. My heart stops. He brushes the curls from his forehead and blows out a frustrated breath.

“Where have you been?” I ask.

“With Trip’s decoy, I’d suspect.” He takes my elbow and pulls me toward the terrace, and I can now see that it’s empty. She must have gone in the adjoining door. “I can’t believe he did that to me.” He looks off into space and rocks his head back and forth. “Well, actually, I can. He’s Trip, after all.”

“Did what?” I’m so confused.

“She said she was feeling sick and needed some air. And that she was so lightheaded she couldn’t walk by herself. So I brought her out here. Then her illness turned into octopus hands.” He gropes at me frantically, imitating her movements. His eyes narrow at me. “Did Trip send you out here?”