Harlequin Special Edition October 2015, Box Set 1 of 2 (35 page)

Since Anna was not far enough along in her labor for an epidural, she was given a quick-acting drug that the nurse promised would make her more comfortable.

And Lord, was Logan relieved. The nurse was right, as only a few minutes passed before Anna started breathing easier and her posture relaxed.

Scooting his chair to her bedside, he said, “You look like you're already feeling better.”

“Oh, I am. It's weird, though, because the pain is still there... I just don't seem to care as much.” Her lips stretched into a loosey-goosey grin. “I feel tipsy, actually. It's like the perfect amount of tipsy, just enough where you feel really good but are still in control.”

“Well, if I remember correctly, that perfect tipsy was what led us to where we are now,” Logan said, referring to the night they met. The night their journey began.

“That was a good night, Logan.”

“Yes, Anna, it was most definitely a good night.”

“She'll be happy, won't she?” Anna's hand went to her stomach. “I mean, not all of the time. No one is happy every second of every day. But we'll give her enough love, enough wonder and magic and laughter, that she'll be happy more often than she's not. Right?”

“We'll do the best we can,” Logan said, answering honestly. “But I think more important than all the rest is love. She'll have our love, Anna, from her first breath to our last.”

At once, he was struck by her beauty, by where they were and, again, that this life they'd created was raring up to make her appearance. And now that Anna wasn't feeling so much pain, didn't seem so frightened, Logan allowed himself to revel in his awe, his excitement.

“You know, the longer I think about it, Flash isn't such a horrible name,” Anna said, her eyes closed, her words slurring just a small amount. “Because you are right. Flash Daugherty sounds like the cool kid at the school. The one everyone wants to be friends with.”

“Ah... Anna, that's the tipsy talking,” he said with a grin. No way, nohow would his daughter be named Flash. Now, a son? Perhaps. “And darlin', you would truly be spitting mad if I were to agree with this decision of yours when you're in such a state.”

“Then come up with a name, cowboy, because—”

His smartphone beeped from his pocket, interrupting Anna's sentence and indicating a call. Logan's heart dropped to the soles of his feet. As of yet, they had not notified anyone they were at the hospital or that Anna was in labor, and it was early for a social call.

Which left one possibility: bad news was waiting to be delivered.

Very bad news, because the everyday sort of bad news could typically wait until a decent hour of the day. And Logan did not want to answer and hear whatever variety of very bad news this phone call would convey. Not ever, naturally. But, please Lord, not today.

Not on the day he was supposed to meet his daughter.

Anna opened her eyes, sat up on the bed. Her pale complexion lightened another degree. “Who could that be? No one would be calling at this time, unless—”

“I know, I know. But I don't want to answer.”

“You have to. You know you do.”

And yeah, he did know that, so he yanked the phone from his pocket and saw it was his mother. His throat, chest and gut tightened in unison. Yeah. This was gonna be bad.

In the second before he accepted the call, Anna reached for his free hand and entwined her fingers with his and squeezed. Offering support. He looked at her, into her eyes, and kept right on looking when he said, “What's wrong, Mom?”

“It's Granddad, Logan,” Carla said, her voice nearly inaudible through her gasps and her tears. Her shock. “He's had a h-heart attack, son, a real bad one. They're n-not sure if—if he'll survive this. I th-think it would be good for you to get here. As soon as you can. Just in case.”

In those initial few minutes, he kept his head straight and asked for more details: what had happened, when, what the doctors were saying, precisely, about Granddad's condition, and how his grandmother was holding up. Once he had that information, he tried to say the right words, tried to give his mother a little strength and comfort, some peace.

And as he spoke and listened, while his brain absorbed what it could and his heart tried to put up shields against the colossal barrage of emotions—anguish and fury, guilt and resentment—bent on a full-frontal attack, he continued to stare into Anna's eyes, which were now filled with tears. Because yes, they were close enough that she heard everything.

His side. His mother's side, including her sobs. Including her pleas for him to get in the car and get to Wyoming, to his grandfather's bedside, as soon as possible.

And Logan did not know what to do.

He did not know what action was right or honorable or what he could live with, versus what he could not. Leave Anna, miss the birth of his daughter, the baby girl he could not wait to see and hear and hold and...love? Or if Zeke was at the end, if he did not survive, lose the chance to say goodbye to the man who'd raised and protected and loved Logan from the moment of
his
birth?

How could he make such a choice? What type of a God would force him into making such a choice? No. He did not know what to do. He did not know. And because he did not know, the bombardment of emotion breached his defenses. Logan's body shuddered, tears escaped and wet his cheeks, and unrelenting, dizzying nausea saturated his gut.

“Go,” Anna said. “It's okay, Logan. I'll...I'll be fine. You need to see your grandfather.”

No.

“Is that Anna?” Carla asked. “Oh, h-honey, is she in l-labor?”

“Yes, Mom,” he said, speaking as clearly as possible. “We're at the hospital now.”

“Stay th-there,” Carla said. “Your grandfather w-wouldn't want you to leave.”

No.

An impossible choice. A heartbreaking choice. The most awful choice Logan would ever have to make. And no, he still did not know what to do. He
hated
not knowing what to do.

Find some strength, man.
Make the decision.

But he couldn't. So he told his mother that he'd let her know his plans when he knew them. He asked her to phone him instantly if anything changed with Zeke. He told her that he loved her and asked her to give Rosalie his love, as well. And then they hung up.

Logan closed his eyes and breathed. Just breathed. In order to escape from the crippling, blinding haze of his emotions. To find enough peace to think logically.

“You need to see your grandfather,” Anna repeated, her voice once again wobbly. “I don't want you to go. I don't want to do this without you. But you have to—”

Opening his eyes, he said, “No, I don't. I can stay.”

“But if he dies and you're not there, you won't forgive yourself. I won't forgive myself.” Anna winced, and that told him that her tipsy drug wasn't working quite as well, and that made him feel worse. “Our baby will be here. You can come back to her.”

Anna's meaning was clear, and it was one he'd already thought of. His grandfather might not be here tomorrow, but Anna and their daughter would be.

It was, he supposed, the most logical side of an impossible choice. Reasonable and rather obvious. See the person today you might not be able to tomorrow. But the realization of what he would miss—the precious first breath, the earsplitting first cry, taking in the sight of the woman he loved holding their baby girl—hurt more than anything Logan had ever experienced. It was a sickening, engulfing, head-pounding, gut-wrenching, soul-crushing pain.

“I'll have other firsts with my daughter,” he said, though he hadn't meant to speak what was in his head. Mostly, he was just trying to coax himself through the god-awful hurt he was feeling so he could get up and follow through. “Lots of other firsts.”

“You will. We will. Her first smile and her first laugh, her first tooth,” Anna said. “Her first step and her first day of school and so many others, Logan.”

Right. But he might not have another with his grandfather. Simple, obvious, logical. Nodding, Logan stood and kissed Anna. Ruffled her hair and kissed her again.

And he came real close, too close, to saying, “I love you,” but managed to swallow the sentiment whole. When he told his woman he loved her, he did not want to be walking away.

“I'll phone Lola,” he said, his voice heavy. “And Gavin and Haley. You won't be alone.”

“Just my aunt, please.” Anna stroked his cheek with her palm, her eyes holding pain and sadness, confusion and fear. Hell. How could he leave her? “And if you can, if it seems proper to do so, thank your grandfather for me, for all he did in building you.”

“If I can, I will...and thank you.” Then he kissed Anna's stomach and said, “Now listen to me, baby girl. I am so sorry I will not be here to give you the greeting you deserve, but know that I...I love you, and I will be back. Just as soon as I can. I will always come back.”

“You need to go,” Anna said, her voice breaking. “Before I... You need to go.”

Logan ran his hand over his face and nodded. She was right. He was making this harder on both of them than he needed to. He was about to say goodbye, to kiss her one last time, when God must have felt sorry for him, because a name popped into Logan's head. The perfect name.

“I just had an idea for a name,” he said. “What do you think about calling her Scarlett Valentina? Scarlett for your mom, as a play on Ruby, and Valentina for mine.”

“Oh! Scarlett Valentina.” Anna said the name a few times, as if trying it on for size, and then she smiled
that
smile. “I...love it, Logan. It's perfect and sentimental and beautiful.”

“Good. I'm glad. I love it, too.” Lord. He did not want to do this. But he knew he had to. “I'll call as soon as I'm off the phone with Lola, and we'll talk until she's here.”

Relief dipped into her gaze. “And I'll call you when Scarlett has vacated my stomach.”

They looked into each other's eyes for another second—a second filled with a million unsaid words—and with the reassuring, steady beat of his baby's heart echoing in his ears, Logan turned on his heel and did the unthinkable. He left his wife and daughter.

And Lord, walking out of Anna's room almost killed him. Each step held the gravity, the pain, of the sharpest knife slicing into his heart and soul. Both were in shreds by the time he made it to the row of elevators, and he could barely see through his blinding emotions. Somehow, he managed to stab the appropriate button.

But as he waited for the damn elevator to reach his floor, he knew—like he'd never known another truth in his entire life—that he could not do this. Despite the logic of rushing to his grandfather's side, Logan could not, would not, abandon his wife.

And no way in hell would he miss his little princess's entrance into this world. He had to be here, to hear her cries and kiss her cheeks and... He had to greet her in person. Just had to.

Logic held no weight in this decision, only the certainty that he had to be with the woman he loved when their daughter was born. So, Logan prayed—hard and fervently—that Zeke would hold on. And then he turned around and hightailed it back to Anna.

“I can't leave,” Logan said as he entered her room. She startled at the sound of his voice, and the sight of her tears strengthened everything he knew to be true. “Seems you're stuck with me, sweetheart.”

“But what about your grandfather? What if—”

“Zeke Cordero is about as mule-headed as they get, and there isn't any way he's leaving this earth without putting up one helluva fight.” Reaching Anna, Logan tucked her hand into his and squeezed. “There's no use in arguing, Anna. I won't leave you.”

Crying, but he thought—hoped—in happiness, she nodded. “Okay, then, cowboy. Let's have a baby.”

A good many hours later, that was precisely what they did. It was a beautiful, miraculous moment. Bigger and bolder and crazier than Logan could have ever imagined. And he was so grateful, so humbled, to be there for his baby girl's birth.

But that did not make it any easier to kiss mother and daughter goodbye, to get in his car and finally start the trek to Wyoming. The entire drive there, he prayed that he wasn't too late, that Zeke would pull through the crisis and that Logan would soon be able to return to his family. To Anna and Scarlett.

* * *

With the utmost care, Anna untucked and unfolded the hospital blanket from around her newborn's tiny, flawless body. She had this need to look at Scarlett again, to count her ten beautiful little toes and feel the sweet softness of her skin and kiss the top of her downy head.

Anna hadn't known that such an overpowering, fulfilling type of love existed until the first second she held and looked at her daughter. And oh, was this little one a beauty, even if she did say so herself. Her daughter had brown eyes—like Anna's—and silky golden-brown hair that she suspected would eventually darken to the same shade as Logan's.

She had a cute, perky nose that reminded Anna of
her
mother's and fingers that were long and slender exactly as Logan's were. She thought Scarlett's mouth was the same as Logan's mom's, but it was too soon to tell for sure. Regardless, Scarlett Valentina was simply lovely.

Her entrance into this world, however, was not as easy as Anna would've preferred. For such a rushed beginning, her darling daughter had taken her time being born, almost as if she knew her father would then have to leave and therefore was trying to delay the inevitable.

Under the circumstances, that was impossible, but Anna's amazement and gratitude for Logan's decision to stay with her, for as long as he could, hadn't diminished. Just thinking about those awful, awful minutes directly after his initial exit from her hospital room brought back the excruciating pain she had felt.