45
The First New Day
I woke to soft sunshine streaming through curtains I didn’t recognize. I blinked at the butter yellow light, the peek of blue sky through the sheer fabric, and realized I was lying in bed, enveloped in soft sheets. This was Logan’s bedroom. He must’ve woken at some point in the night and carried me here.
I rolled over to find him on his side, his beautiful face peaceful in sleep. When I shifted, his eyes cracked open.
“Hi,” I said shyly. Waking up next to him was so intimate. My heart beat faster.
“Hi,” he echoed. He studied my face, seriousness and tenderness in his eyes. A small voice inside me whispered, You know this look. It was pulled straight from my dreams.
A lump formed in my throat. To distract myself, I flitted my eyes around his room, cataloguing his framed Tottenham jersey, his tall bookshelf crammed with books—an organizational method I knew well—his closet full of identical pressed navy suits. And then my eyes landed on the most remarkable thing: it was my painted face, captured on a canvas propped carefully against the wall.
I turned to Logan, my mouth dropping open. “What’s that doing here?”
His voice was quiet but deep. “I asked Zoey for it.”
“Why?”
His gaze was steady, pinning me. “Alexis. I think you know I’ve loved you from the beginning.”
He loved me. And I did know—of course I knew. Now that I was seeing clearly, with the weight of self-doubt lifted, my heart free, I could see his love had been in all of his decisions, in every action, from the very first night.
I reached for him and smoothed his hair. “I love you, too. So much.”
Logan’s eyes shone. “I know.” He caught my hand and kissed my palm, then kept it there, pressing it against his face.
We lay in the soft sunshine, drinking each other in, until the reason I’d come over last night hit me like a freight train. “I’m so sorry about the election,” I whispered. “For how it all turned out.”
He didn’t flinch. Instead, he slowly shook his head, his stubble tickling my palm. “You know what? I’m not. I may have lost, but I still won.”
My heart cracked open. I closed the distance between us and kissed him. Logan’s arms slid around me as he deepened the kiss. “What happens next?” I whispered.
He kissed my forehead softly, then pulled back to study me. “What do you want to happen?”
He was always letting me lead. Luckily, it was easy to say what I wanted these days. “To hold onto you for as long as you’ll let me.”
His voice was gravelly. “That’s what I want, too. To hold onto you, and start again.”
I looked at him—my dream man—and slowly smiled. I’d been waiting so long for a love I could keep, a love that felt secure and exhilarating in equal measures. And now that I had it, I could say: the reality was far better than I’d ever imagined.