April 2005

The slamming of the dorm room door reverberated through the otherwise quiet common area as Logan led her silently to his bedroom. He'd tried to be his charming, usual self throughout dinner, but it was clear his heart wasn't in it. And when he'd invited her back to his place, she'd been uncertain about whether or not she should take him up on it. A part of her felt like he could use the alone time to process and another, more selfish part of her, was afraid to give him that alone time, lest he process himself right out of being her boyfriend.

He headed straight for his desk and pulled out a bottle of liquor—scotch she assumed—and two glasses. He filled one, picking it up and chugging it without a word.

"Are you sure you want me to stay?" she asked hesitantly.

He filled the second glass and handed it to her. "I invited you," he reminded her as he refilled his own tumbler. He'd had a glass of wine with her at dinner, but that was it, since he'd been driving. Now that he no longer had the need to operate heavy machinery, it was apparently time to get drunk.

"I know, but..." she was cut off by the sound of the scotch bottle thumping loudly against his desk.

"No!" His voice was low but stern.

"No?" she asked.

"You're my girlfriend, Rory."

"I know, I just…"

"You're my girlfriend," he repeated, a smidge of emotion seeping into the iciness of his previous words. "And they don't get a say in that. They don't get to do this—insert themselves into our relationship and make you question if you should stay or go."

"I know, but.." She trailed off, not knowing exactly what to say. She didn't want to point out that he was the one letting his family linger there—between them. Sure, she was upset about dinner too—she was the one they had attacked after all—but what she was really worried about was how in-his-head Logan was about it all. Was he reconsidering everything? She knew he wasn't close with his family, but their opinions had to matter at least a little, right? It was so hard for her to say since he'd always shut the topic down when his family came up.

"Unless you want to? Go?" He turned to face her, a hint of concern in his normally self-assured gaze. "I mean, I wouldn't blame you if you…" He took a deep breath. "I shouldn't have put you in their crosshairs. They're crazy and I would understand if you didn't want to get involved with that."

"Logan, no!" she assured him, taking a step closer and setting the glass he had handed her down on the desk so she could reach up to cradle his face. "Don't worry about me, I can handle them. I've dealt with all the condescending Chilton parents, and my grandparent's snobby friends... Hell, I've dealt with my grandparents, and I mean, I love them, but they can be, well…you saw what they did when they didn't approve of my last boyfriend, so…"

The corners of his mouth turned up just a touch. "Yeah, but they like me," he reminded her. "And that guy was a jerk anyhow, dumping you like that, so I'm gonna have to side with Richard and Emily on this one."

Rory shrugged, dropping her hand from his face down to his chest. "Well, I am pretty happy with the boyfriend I have now," she added, "So, I guess all's well that ends well."

His left hand came to rest on her hip and his head dropped so his forehead was pressed against hers. He fingered the lapel of her peacoat. "So, are you going to take off this jacket and stay, or what?"

"Ehh," she pretended to think, pulling her lower lip into her mouth. "I guess I can stay for a bit."

"Good." He pulled back, allowing her to unbutton her coat and slip it off her shoulders. He took it from her and his smile deepened. "I got something for you."

"For me?" she asked, her eyes widening with tempered excitement. The solemness of the evening still hung over the room but she couldn't help but be happy to hear he got her something. Not that she cared about fancy gifts, but the fact that in the less than two days they had been officially dating he had thought enough to go out and get something just for her had to mean something.

"No, for my other girlfriend, her name is 'Yew,'" he teased.

"You didn't have to do that, Logan."

"I know," he stated simply. "Go check." He nodded in the direction of his closet. Rory turned around and took the few steps across the small dorm room while Logan hung up her coat near the door. She opened the closet and started rummaging through cashmere sweaters and designer t-shirts until her hand encountered cool, soft silk. Her fingers curled around the material, pulling the garment out so she could examine it. It was a peacock blue, Kimono style robe with light pink cherry blossoms embroidered up each side and along the back. The colors were rich, the fabric like butter. It was one of the most beautiful things she'd ever seen. She pulled the hanger off the rack, holding it up in front of her so she could admire it more fully.

She felt Logan come up behind her, placing a hand on the small of her back and letting his chin come to rest on her shoulder. "I couldn't have you sleeping in some generic 'overnight guest,' robe when you're here."

"This is beautiful, Logan. Thank you."

She felt his hand travel up her back to the collar of her dress and he skillfully unclasped the hook before slowly starting to undo her zipper. She shivered at the sensations of his hand caressing down her back, and his breath on her neck. Rory let the blue dress fall from her shoulders onto the floor before turning around to face him. He let his eyes linger on her appreciatively for a moment. She waited for him to make his move but instead of stepping forward to touch her, he simply cocked his head to the side and said, "Well, aren't you going to try it on?"

She narrowed her eyes in confusion, tilting her head to look down at herself. Sure, she wasn't standing in some sexy, come-hither pose, but she was also wearing nothing but her good bra and underwear set and a pair of strappy, silver heels. That should have been all the 'come-hither' she needed. "Now?"

"Yeah. Go on, put it on."

"Oh, um…okay." She bent down, slipping off her shoes and picking her dress up off the floor. She folded the dress and set it down on Logan's desk chair and put her heels off to the side before slipping the robe off the hanger and putting it on. She wrapped the fabric around herself and tied the belt, then looked up to see Logan's response. There was a sanguine smile on his face as he took the sight of her in.

"You look perfect." She felt her face flush. Were they going to have sex? She was so confused. She hated how hard he was to read tonight.

"Thanks."

He leaned in to place a kiss on her cheek. "Make yourself comfortable," he said. "I'm gonna get changed." Okay, so…no sex? Did that mean something? Was it a bad sign he didn't want to sleep with her? They'd only been officially dating two days and he was already tired of the sex? But he wanted her there. He wanted her to stay the night she assumed, or he wouldn't have given her the robe. So maybe that was a good thing? Like he wanted her for more than just sex. Unless he only wanted her there to stick it to his parents. He'd said it himself—he wasn't going to let them dictate their relationship. Was she just some act of rebellion? She shook the thoughts from her head as Logan dug around through a drawer pulling out a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. He wanted her there. Overthinking it wasn't going to get her anywhere, even if it was her specialty. She'd just go make herself comfortable on the bed and whatever happened, happened.

Logan finished putting on his sweats and walked over to a shelf filled with DVDs. "Movie?" he asked, looking her way.

She settled herself on the bed. "Umm, sure, I guess."

"What are you in the mood for?" he asked, running his hand along the cases on the shelf.

"Umm, whatever," she shrugged. "You choose." She watched as his eyes gazed almost absently over the shelf before pulling out a movie and opening the case, then sliding the disc into the DVD player. The image of a woman carrying a torch appeared on the screen for a few seconds and then they were transported to a grainy, 1980's New Jersey where a group of kids were chasing after an ugly green car and waving goodbye to its occupants. It looked familiar but it had been a while. "The Karate Kid?" she asked for confirmation. Logan answered with a shrug. He grabbed the two glasses of scotch that were still on his desk and brought them over, along with the bottle, handing a glass to Rory and setting the bottle on his end table. He sat down silently on the bed next to her and took a sip of his drink.

Two hours later, Ralph Miccio's character stood, arms out to the side like a crane, his injured foot out in front of him. As the dramatic music crescendoed, the foot that had been supporting him lifted off, sailing upward through the air and smashing into William Zabka's nose. The crowd went wild.

Rory glanced at Logan. She was sitting sideways on the bed leaning up against the wall and Logan was perpendicular to her, propped up against the headboard with his feet in her lap. The credits rolled and Logan remained silent, taking a swig of Scotch straight from the bottle, then handing it off to Rory. They'd both had more than their fair share of the alcohol throughout the evening. And while the libations, along with the distraction of the movie had eased some of the tension between them, it was still acutely obvious that things were not status quo. This wasn't the playful kind of drunkenness she'd seen from him before; or even the jealous drunkenness of that night at Finn's party when she'd shown up with Robert. It wasn't the emotional kind of drunk, like she'd gotten that night with Dean a few days ago. He just seemed…detached, like he was barely even there at all. He'd made a few monosyllabic replies in response to her commentary on the movie but had otherwise remained silent. It was almost like she was dating her stoic ex, Jess again.

She took a sip from the bottle in her hands, then shifted slightly to look at him. He was staring blankly at the rolling credits on the screen. "Logan?" she asked tentatively.

He didn't answer right away and she started to worry but then, finally, he spoke. "You know what?" he asked, shaking his head to break himself out of his stupor. He didn't wait for her reply. "Screw my family."

"Oh, ummm…" She reached up and scratched her ear. "Okay?"

"No, seriously," he reiterated, sitting up straighter so he was no longer reclining against the headboard, but his feet remained in her lap. "Screw them. I mean, my Mom…she's constantly going on about how I need to settle down and meet a nice girl. She's always trying to set me up with some daughter of a friend." His hands were waving around frenziedly as his speech and demeanor escalated rapidly from that of Eeyore on quaaludes to Tigger on crack. "But, you know, I don't think she actually wants that at all. I swear, it's like she gets off on me being the most eligible bachelor in the room. It's like, now she's gotten old and she can't get the attention herself, so she has to get it through me, and if she can't dangle me in front of her friends and their daughters some like shiny prize to be won, then people might actually stop vying for her attention."

Rory didn't know what to say to that. She wanted to assure Logan that that wasn't the case and that his mother loved him and wanted the best for him. But how could she when she'd met the woman only once and it had been a less than stellar interaction. She wanted to believe Shira was just some Mama bear protecting her cub, but from the little she knew, she was hardly convinced that was her only motivation. "I'm sorry," she managed to mumble in reply. But it seemed like she could have said anything…or nothing at all. Logan was on a roll, and he wasn't stopping to listen to her. This was less of a conversation and more of a monologue at this point. Which, oddly enough, was okay with her. He was opening up to her—finally, and she was more than happy to just listen, even if it made her heart hurt for him.

"And Grandpa," he continued on. "I mean, really, what century is he living in? He still thinks this is 1950 or some shit, where women exist only to serve men. To him, my grandmother was just another employee—some personal assistant who organized his calendar and entertained his friends and had his kids. She was supposed to sit there and look good and make him look good. She wasn't his partner. He didn't care what she had to say. She did what she was told, just like all his other employees. Well, I don't fucking want that. I don't want some pretty piece of arm candy who gets reduced to nothing more than an accessory…" Logan stopped short turning to face her suddenly like he just remembered she was even there. "Not that you're not pretty," he assured her, his eyes wide with panic. "You are. I mean, you're gorgeous, I just meant…"

Rory squeezed the foot in her lap reassuringly. "Breathe," she instructed him with a breathy chuckle. "I get it."

Logan collapsed back into the headboard with an audible sigh, reaching up to scrub his face with his hands. "I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry for. I promise you I am not insulted by you saying you're not only interested in me for my looks."

"No, not for that." He shook his head. "For everything. For this whole night. I'm sorry for the way they treated you and for leaving you at your dorm like I did. I'm sorry I've been such bad company. And I'm really sorry for just unloading all of that stuff on you. God, it's been two days and I am already screwing up this whole boyfriend thing."

She gave his foot another squeeze, starting to massage it gently. "I think you're doing a way better job of it than you give yourself credit for." The look he gave her was one of unadulterated skepticism. "No, really," she assured him. "Sure, your family was…less than welcoming," she admitted. "But you stood up for me and that couldn't have been easy."

"Believe me," he replied with a roll of his eyes. "It was a breeze."

"Well, regardless, it was very chivalrous, and I appreciated it. And yeah, you dropped me off outside my dorm with barely a word, but you came back and apologized. Do you know how many men would have been too proud to do that?"

"My lack of pride impresses you?" The teasing reply was still a little forced, but his lips were curled up slightly and a touch of playfulness had returned to his voice.

"Absolutely," she smiled back. "I like my men as meek and diffident as possible."

"Well, I'm glad I could please you with my lack of pride."

"Seriously, though," she said, getting the conversation back on track. "It takes a big man to admit when he's wrong. That's not weak, it's brave."

He shrugged a shoulder in reply.

"And the rest of the night…" she went on, "you're allowed to not always be the life of the party, Logan. You don't have to 'entertain' me. And you're allowed to be upset and to process that however you need." She wasn't going to burden him with the fact that she had felt awkward and uneasy all night. She didn't want him to feel like he needed to pretend around her, even if it made her uncomfortable. "That's actually kind of the beauty of being in a relationship. Being a boyfriend doesn't just mean that you have to take care of me, it means you get to let me take care of you sometimes."

"So, you're totally fine with sitting here in stilted silence all night watching cheesy 80's movies? That's your idea of a good time?"

"Watching cheesy 80's movies is absolutely my idea of a good time." He gave her a pointed look. "What? It is," she insisted. "And I haven't seen The Karate Kid in quite a while. Mom is going to be jealous she didn't get to watch it with me."

Logan continued his disbelieving gaze. "You're leaving out the part about the stilted silence."

"Fine," she admitted. "It was kind of awkward. But that had more to do with my own insecurities than it was about you. And besides, this is a relationship. It's not always going to be rainbows and puppy dogs. With dating you get the good stuff, the fun stuff, and I get why that's appealing. But in a relationship, you sometimes have to go through the not so good stuff with someone too. That can be hard, but is also means you don't have to go through your own not-so-good stuff all alone."

He was looking at her with a scrutinizing gaze, his head cocked to the side in curiosity. "Insecurities?"

"Huh?" she asked, feeling a panic arising inside of her.

"You said you felt awkward because of you own insecurities."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "I did?" she asked, looking away.

He nudged the inside of her thigh with his foot. "Come on, tell me…what are you insecure about?"

"It's nothing," she insisted.

"Ace!" he cajoled. "You just said…"

"I know what I said," she harrumphed. He started at her until she finally gave in. "Fine," she huffed. "Of course I was feeling insecure. Your family hates me. That's scary. I don't know how much stock you put in their opinions."

"Zero," he assured her. "In fact, less than zero. Them not liking you only makes me want you more."

"Right," she rolled her eyes. "Then why…" she quickly shut her mouth. Admitting to being worried about his family was one thing, but this was a whole other level.

"'Why' what?"

"Nevermind." She shook her head.

"Uh uh, nope; you are not getting off that easily."

She bit her lip self-consciously, glancing up at him out of the corner of her eye. "Youdidn'twanttohavesexwithme," she mumbled incoherently, squirming in her seat.

"What?" he asked, sitting forward to try to hear her better.

"You didn't want to have sex with me," she repeated with a sigh.

He looked intensely confused. "Umm, I have never not wanted to have sex with you, Ace. From the moment you called me Judy Dench, I have pretty much always wanted to have sex with you."

Rory let out an annoyed sigh at his willful obtuseness. "When we got back here tonight," she reiterated. "You brought me back to your room alone. You undressed me. You took one look at me, and then you told me to put on a robe." She gestured to the garment she wore.

"Because I bought you the robe!" he insisted. "I wanted to see it on you. And I wanted you to be comfortable."

"No. It was your family. You were second guessing things…wondering if you made a mistake."

"I was not wondering if I made a mistake," he insisted. "Yeah, my family got inside my head, but not about you. They just…they have this way of making me feel…small. If I was second guessing anything, it was if I was good enough for you. You deserve better than what they put you through tonight."

"I told you, I can handle them."

"And I told you I don't care what they think."

"Fine."

"Fine."

"Fine."

"So…" Logan trailed off uncertainly. "We're good then?" he asked.

"We're good," she agreed.

"Good…" there was a pause for a moment before he added, "So you still wanna have sex?"

"What?" The word bubbled up out of her as a laugh. The most genuine one she'd had all night. It felt good.

"Sex," he reiterated. "You said—or well, implied at least—that you wanted to have sex when we got back here earlier so I was just wondering if that was still on the table."

"Way to woo a girl," she teased.

"You're my girlfriend, I figured that meant I was done with the wooing," he joked.

"Yeah, that's not how it works."

"So what? You want me to serenade you or something?"

"I've heard you sing before. Please don't."

"Ouch!" Logan threw his hands against his chest. "That hurt, Ace."

"You'll get over it."

"Okay, so no singing," he agreed. "Maybe I can convince you another way." He started to wiggle the toes in her lap, using them to push her legs apart as his left foot slid under the hem of the robe he'd bought her, brushing along the inside of her thigh. She felt a wave pass over her at the feel of him against her, her whole body relaxing as the tension of the night finally melted away.

"Mmmm," she hummed.

"Too easy," Logan smirked mischievously, his nose crinkling up with mirth.

"Hey, who you calling 'easy,' Buster?" she asked, though she was sure her words lacked their intended oomph when coupled with the voluntary parting of her legs.

"If the shoe fits," he shrugged nonchalantly as his foot rubbed against her center. She groaned in pleasure and reveled in the sensations for a minute or two before pushing his foot away.

"Is this your way of trying to prove you're not easy?" he asked.

"No," she shook her head slowly as she pushed herself up onto her knees, swinging one of her legs over his so she was straddling him. "I'm just not that in the mood for foreplay at the moment." For all the angst and insecurity and turmoil of the day, in this moment, she didn't regret a second of it because in this moment, she felt closer to him than ever, and it was a hell of a turn on.

"No wooing and no foreplay?" he asked dramatically. "Why didn't anyone tell me about this part of being a boyfriend? I would have considered settling down ages ago."

"Well good thing for me they didn't, or you might have been taken before I got to you."

"Hmm, I guess it was for the best, then," he agreed as she continued to crawl her way up the bed to meet him. He pushed his upper body off the headboard to meet her lips for a kiss. She immediately deepened it, pushing his lips apart with her tongue and plunging it inside his mouth. She felt him start to harden beneath her and she slipped a hand down, snaking under the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers to grasp him. He moaned into her mouth.

"Fuck, Ace." He said as her lips pulled away for a breath of air. Her fingers squeezed gently and began a steady, pumping rhythm as he reached for the tie of her robe and deftly undid it, letting the silk fabric fall open. She let go of his dick and sat back enough to let the clothing slide off her shoulders and down her arms, crumbling into a heap behind her. He quickly rid himself of his t-shirt before reaching a hand up to cup her breast. She lowered her hips, letting her center grind against him, providing the friction her hand no longer was. She could feel him getting harder underneath her.

She leaned forward, bracing her hands on either side of him for extra leverage as she continued to rub her body against him. His hips bucked up in pleasure, meeting her thrusts. He reached for the clasp of her bra, undoing the hooks and the bra slid off.

He started to sit up, trying to guide her to turn over but she stopped him. "I want to be on top," she said. She'd never been on top before. Partly because she was used to letting the man take the reins, and partly because she was insecure about being on display like that. But she was feeling strangely emboldened at the moment. He looked impressed, then laid back.

"Well then, you're in charge. Do with me what you will, Miss Gilmore." She felt her lips pull up into a mischievous smile. She bent forward capturing his mouth in a bruising kiss; lips clashing, tongues cavorting. The sensitive flesh of her breasts tickled lightly over the skin of his chest; her nipples hardened at the intense feel of the subtle contact. Hands were in in her hair; grasping, massaging, pulling her head even closer to his.

It was amazing how she was ready already. She usually needed more warmup, but she hadn't been lying when she told Logan she wasn't really in the mood for foreplay; she wanted the main even. Her left arm grasped blindly for the handle of this bedside drawer where he kept the condoms. She pulled it open, fishing around inside for a foil packet without lifting her head from his until she had one in her hands.

She sat up, brandishing her prize with triumph. Logan's eyes were dilated with lust, his lips swollen, his hair mussed. She was so turned on. She slid back down the bed, gripping the waistband of his sweats and boxers and dragging them down his legs to discard of them. Then, she wriggled out of her own panties before settling herself back over her boyfriend. His dick was hard and ready for her; the tip glistening with a coating of precum.

She reached for him, taking him in her hand and letting her thumb glide over the tip. Her eyes flicked up to see him; he was watching her intently as she stroked his member. Letting go for a moment, she tore the packet open and removed the latex disk.

The rubber felt smooth under her fingers. She grasped the tip and placed it over his head but as her other hand went to roll the condom down nothing happened. She fumbled with it for a moment before the embarrassing realization came over her. "Having a little trouble there, Ace? Need some help?" The light and teasing tone of his voice did nothing to ease her sudden angst and her cheeks flushed with mortification.

"I got it," she mumbled. So much for her moment of confidence. She quickly flipped the condom over and repositioned it, rolling it down with ease this time.

The embarrassment had yet to disappear as she pushed herself up and centered herself over his erection. "Hey," he said, his eyes meeting her gaze and holding steady, his mouth curled up in a reassuring smile and she felt the mortification abate, replaced with the excited flapping of butterfly wings deep in her belly. She slowly lowered herself onto him sighing at the sensation of him filling her. Her head fell back, breaking his gaze and she slowly began to move her hips.

They quickly fell into a harmonized rhythm, his hips bucking up to meet her as she thrust her pelvis. She leaned forward hitting a new angle that sent shock waves through her body. The muscles of her pussy clenched around him and he let out a guttural groan that spurred her on.

"God, Ace," he cried as she picked up the pace. He reached between her legs to fondle her clit and she reached one hand down to place it over his, pressing his fingers even harder into her nub. A few more thrusts had them both crying out their release in exquisite synchrony. She felt her muscles go limp and she crumpled on top of him, their bodies still locked together.

As she lay there, she felt him brush her hair back, unsticking it from his sweaty chest and her sweaty neck. "You're amazing, Ace," he whispered as he continued to stroke her tresses. She could feel the beating of his heart through his chest. It slowed in sync with her breath and once they'd both returned to a steady, even rhythm, she managed to disentangle herself and roll off him snuggling into his side.

He rolled the condom off, throwing it in a trashcan by the bed but otherwise, neither of them moved. They lay, wrapped in each other, and drifted off to sleep.

December 2005

The drawer slid open and Logan reached in, grabbing a handful of silverware and dumping it into a box. He had no idea if there was some special way he needed to pack this stuff, he'd never moved on his own before; he always had someone to do it for him. He'd pulled up an article online with tips on moving and it had suggested wrapping the glasses in newspaper—which had a certain kind of irony to it, in Logan's opinion—but it hadn't said anything about the silverware. And honestly, he didn't exactly have a ton of spare time to make sure everything was packed just right. Between studying for finals, meetings with Jason, Mark, and Kyle, and trying to prepare for the baby, he barely had time to sneeze.

Plus, he was distracted. It had been almost a week and Rory still hadn't called. And sure, a week didn't seem like a long time, but her due date was looming and every day counted. Then there was the impending explosion when he told his father what was happening. He was still putting it off, partly because he was honestly afraid of the man's reaction, and partly because he knew once he told him, he'd have his every move watched. Mitchum would most likely start monitoring his phone calls. And he'd definitely be cut off. His father would almost certainly take a look at his past transactions too. Logan had paid in cash as much as possible when he was in Boston, but he'd had to leave a credit card to reserve the hotel room. And sure, the hotel could very well have been just for the job search, but what if Mitchum started digging? Asking questions? He could figure out that he hadn't been in that hotel room alone. Honestly, once he told his father he was moving to Boston, Rory would be easy to find. And he couldn't do that to her; he'd made her a promise.

But he also couldn't protect her much longer. Logan had gotten official notice from the bursar's office…his request to graduate at the end of the month had been granted. Mitchum was going to figure out something was up when his tuition check for next semester got returned.

Logan was startled from his thoughts by a knock at the door. He jumped, a bunch of spoons dropping from his hands and clattering to the floor. "Crap." He'd gotten so distracted with everything he'd forgotten Colin was coming over. He left the spoons on the floor and went to answer the door.

Colin walked in, taking a look around the partially deconstructed loft, his eyes lingering on the stack of boxes in the kitchen. "I can't believe you're really doing this."

"I really am."

"I still think you're out of your fucking mind," Colin shook his head. "I mean, is going into the family business really that bad? So, you have a job you hate. So does most of the fucking world. At least yours comes with enough money to buy yourself some happiness."

"You can't buy happiness, Col."

"You can if you use it to buy a yacht…and name her 'Happiness.'"

Logan rolled his eyes and shook his head. "You don't understand I…" He trailed off. How could he explain it to his best friend? How could he make him see why he needed to do this…without telling him why he needed to do this. "It's not the life for me. There's something else I'm meant for."

"Poverty?" Colin suggested.

"I just need you to trust me on this. It's what I need to do."

Colin examined him for a moment. "Look, do I believe there's something out there that's better than what you've already got? No. Our lives aren't perfect, but they're better than most. But…whatever," he shrugged, "you believe it. And if you're really going to do this, you're going to need someone there to have your back and help pick your sorry ass up when the real world eats you up and spits you out. So…whatever, I support your decision."

"Gee, thanks."

"You're welcome," Colin replied without a hint of irony. "Now, what do you need from me?"

Logan looked around the apartment. "You can finish working on the kitchen. I'll go start on the bathroom. Pack the bare necessities only. The places I'm looking at in Boston are, well…a lot smaller than this." Colin visibly cringed.

"So…you're leaving most of this stuff?" his friend questioned.

"It's just stuff," Logan shrugged. "I'm taking most everything that's important to me. And you're gonna hold on to Henry…" Logan gestured to the antique suit of armor that stood near the entrance to the kitchen area. It was exactly the kind of over the top, ridiculous thing he was supposed to be leaving behind; a symbol of the useless extravagance he was giving up. But still, it was the one thing he couldn't quite bring himself to fully part with. Henry had been around since he was a kid and had gotten really into the Kind Arthur legends. Henry may have been an inanimate object, but he felt like a friend.

"Really fucking cool stuff," Colin pointed out. He looked around the room. "How would you feel about me maybe taking that pool table off your hands?"

Colin had always really loved that table. Logan looked from the pool table to his friend. "How much?"

"Excuse me?"

"How much are you willing to pay me for it?"

"You're going to charge me for it? You were just going to abandon it here."

"Yeah. So my father's lackeys could come get it. He's the one that paid for it to begin with. But if you want it, you're gonna have to cough up some cash. You're still rich and I'm about to be poor as fuck."

"Fine," Colin huffed, crossing his arms over his chest petulantly. I'll buy it from you."

"Great," Logan said with a smile. "If there's anything else here you want, just let me know."

Logan headed off to the bathroom to start packing it up. "Hey!" he heard Colin yell about a half hour later. Logan peeked his head out of the bathroom to see what his friend needed. "This roll of packing tape is running low. You got anymore?"

"Check the desk." He disappeared back behind the door and continued to stack packages of Band-Aids and bottles of disinfectant into a cardboard box.

A few minutes he heard something crash. "Umm…Logan?"

Logan made his way back out of the bathroom. "What's up? What did you…" he trailed off. One of the drawers had come out of the desk completely and it, along with all its contents were scattered on the floor. Colin was standing in front of it, staring at a book in his hand with a shell-shocked look on his face.

"What is this?" Colin asked, looking up from the book to meet Logan's eye. Logan couldn't see the cover from where he was standing, but he knew exactly what book it was. How could he have forgotten he'd stashed that in the desk?

"Umm it's a present…for Honor."

"Honor's pregnant? Four months before the wedding?" he asked dubiously.

"Well, no," Logan shook his head. "But she and Josh want to start trying right away and…" he cringed at the thought of his sister trying to get pregnant. Besides, he knew he was only digging himself further into a hole. It was ludicrous to even suggest he would buy a pregnancy for his sister...ever. Let alone when she was not pregnant and still unmarried.

"And you thought you would bookmark all the important parts for her?" Colin asked sarcastically, referring to the myriad of sticky notes Logan had used to mark the important sections as he'd read.

"Look, Colin…"

"The truth, Logan. For fuck's sake just tell me the goddamn truth."

Logan sighed. "You might want to sit down."

Colin crossed the room to the kitchen Island, plopping the copy of What to Expect When You're Expecting down and taking a seat. Logan pulled out a bottle of Wild Turkey and a glass and filled it, pushing it across the counter to his friend.

Colin took a swig of his liquor. "Well?" he said.

Logan inhaled deeply, pressing his eyes shut. "I found Rory," he admitted.

"Fuck me," Colin groaned, grabbing his glass of whiskey and downing the whole thing. "That fucking bitch?"

"Hey!" Logan objected.

"Oh come on," Colin groaned. "She fucking broke you, man."

"She did not break me."

"She broke you. You lost your fucking mind when she left. You were Mr. Mopey-Depressing-Man for months. We had to drag your sad, pathetic ass around Europe while you made everyone around you miserable. All because she left you."

"She had her reasons."

"Apparently," Colin replied, shoving at the pregnancy book. "How far along is she?"

"Eight months."

"Shit. How the hell did you let this happen? Don't you keep that thing covered up? What is wrong with you, man?"

"Condoms aren't 100 percent effective."

"You used your own?"

Logan narrowed his eyes and glared at Colin. "What are you suggesting?"

"Just that they're definitely not 100 percent effective if they're tampered with."

"She didn't get pregnant on purpose," he hissed.

"I wouldn't put anything passed that bitch."

"Women who are trying to trap you don't run away and keep the pregnancy a secret." Logan rolled his eyes. He knew Colin had some good reasons for not liking Rory, after the way things ended, but for him to suggest she'd done this on purpose was ludicrous.

Colin sighed and let his shoulders sag in defeat. "Fine, you have a point there, but I still don't trust her. And you're even crazier than I thought if she's the reason you're throwing your whole life away."

"I'm not throwing my life away. I love her."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Colin groaned. "You love her?"

"Yes. I love her. And I love our son. I'm going to have a son Colin. I'm going to be a Dad."

"Yeah well, then be a Dad. Do the responsible thing and keep your job and your health insurance and support your son."

"I can't do that."

"Sure you can. Mitchum will be pissed, but he'll make sure the kid is taken care of."

"How? By paying Rory off and telling her to go raise the baby on her own. Or maybe best-case scenario, he doesn't try to split us up but then has me travelling and working so much that I never see them? I don't want that. I don't want to be an absentee father. Money isn't the only thing a kid needs."

"They don't not need it. Diapers don't grow on trees."

"I'm aware of that Colin."

"And how is this going to work anyway? Does anyone but you even know that Rory is pregnant? Or in Boston? What are you going to do? Have a secret family? You think no one is going to find out about her?"

"We'll tell her family when she's ready. Until then…" Logan shrugged. He honestly wasn't sure how that was going to work. He'd hoped she would have been ready to come out to her family by now. He promised her he'd keep her secret, but he didn't want her and the baby to be his secret. He didn't want to hide them away like something he was ashamed of. He wasn't; he wasn't ashamed. They were his family and he loved them. Then again, if Rory didn't call him soon… But he couldn't even entertain that possibility. She was going to call. She'd promised. "I don't know, we'll figure it out."

"Well, that's some stellar parental planning you've done there."

"I don't have it all figured out, Colin. There's been a lot of goddamn stuff to figure out over the last two months. And I haven't exactly had any help. But now you know. You know. And you can be a friend and help me, or you can continue to sit there and throw judgment at me and the woman I love."

Colin sighed. "I'm gonna need more whiskey." Logan picked up the bottle and poured him a glass. Colin chugged it.

"So?" Logan asked, his heart beating with anticipation. This was Colin, he could trust him…right? At least with this part of it. Colin might not agree with the choices Logan was making, but he would support him anyway, he was sure of it—as sure as he could ever be of what someone else would do. But if he knew the other part…that there was a chance the baby wasn't Logan's…that he would never understand. It wasn't his fault; he'd just never been in love before. And his stepmothers weren't mothers, they were just a string of pretty faces that moved in and out of his house from time to time. Colin had no basis for even beginning to grasp the way Logan felt about this child. For understanding just how strong that bond could be even without DNA to back it. Colin might not agree with Logan giving up his Huntzberger destiny for Rory and his son, but Logan was pretty sure he would support him. But if he thought he was giving it up for Rory and someone else's son—that would be too far for Colin. But Colin didn't need to know that part. No one did. As far as Logan was concerned, that part didn't even exist. Samuel was his son—end of story.

"Fine, I'll help you make the biggest mistake of your life, whatever." Logan let out a breath of relief. Even though he knew Colin would agree, there was still that tiny niggling doubt until he heard him say it. "I'll keep your secret. Besides, you're gonna need someone to tell you 'I told you so' when it all falls apart. And I can tell it to you over a game of pool on my new pool table. Which you're very kindly giving to me…for free."

Logan scoffed. "You're joking, right?"

"Hey, you owe me big for this one. Like, never-going-to-live-it-down. The least you can do is give me the pool table."

"I just told you I'm having a kid," Logan reminded him. "You said it yourself, diapers aren't cheap. Cough up some freaking dough for the pool table."

"Fine, then I expect you to name that kid after me, at least."

Logan rolled his eyes. "Yeah, that will happen when hell freezes over."

Colin shrugged. "You're going to be stuck with that ice-queen bitch forever now, so I'm pretty sure you're already in a frozen hell."

Logan wanted to be pissed at yet another dig at Rory, but he couldn't be. Instead, he let out a slightly exasperated chuckle. Colin may not be team Rory at the moment, but he was team Logan. And it was a relief to have him back on his side.