Marrying Daisy Bellamy. Сьюзен Виггс

now. “Are you all right? I thought you were dead.”

      “Hey, I thought I was dead. Completely knocked the wind out of me.”

      “Should I call 911?”

      He pushed himself up, plucked a rhody branch from his hair. “Sorry to disappoint you, but the emergency is over.” He moved his head from side to side. “No broken neck. Extremities all intact.”

      A thin, livid scrape slashed across his cheek, and his hand was bleeding.

      “Are you sure you’re okay?”

      “Okay enough, I swear.” He wiped his hand on his shirt.

      “You shouldn’t have been up on the roof all by yourself. Couldn’t you have called someone?”

      “Now you’re sounding like my mother.”

      “Sorry.”

      He offered a lopsided grin. “Maybe the fall knocked the silver spoon from my mouth. Here, give me a hand.”

      She pulled him to his feet and looked into his eyes, making sure the pupils matched. “Did you hit your head?”

      “Nope. Fell on my ass.” He laid his arm around her shoulders. He smelled of sweat and broken greenery. “I should lean on you, though. You know, just in case. Where’s my boy?”

      “Asleep in the car.”

      “I got plans for us this weekend,” said Logan. “My soccer team’s got a big match.”

      She cast another worried look at him. “You might be really hurt.”

      He stepped away from her, spread his arms wide. “Look, I’m fine, okay? I took a spill—”

      “From a two-story roof.”

      “And lived to tell the tale,” he said. “Quit worrying. Charlie and I’ll be fine. Perfectly fine.”

      “What were you doing up there, anyway?”

      “Fixing some loose shingles. A regular home handyman.”

      “Do me a favor. No ladders, no roof repairs while you’re in charge of Charlie.”

      He raised his right hand. “Scout’s honor.” He unbuckled Charlie’s seat and pulled it out. Charlie stirred but didn’t wake up, so Logan carried the whole rig into the house. Daisy followed with the Clifford bag and Charlie’s weekender.

      “I could call Sonnet,” she suggested. Her stepsister was Charlie’s favorite babysitter. After finishing her studies and internships in Germany, Sonnet was back in Avalon for a few months. In the fall, she would start work at the U.N.

      “Or either of my parents could help out—”

      “Enough, okay? I didn’t get hurt. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of my own kid.” He spoke quietly, but his voice had an edge. Because of his past as an addict and drunk, people tended to tiptoe around him or assume he was inadequate. Just the suggestion of help brought out his defensiveness.

      “I know you’re capable. But you just fell off a roof. You’re not Superman.”

      He grabbed a Nehi soda from the fridge. “Sure, I am.” He offered her a sip.

      She shook her head. “All right. Instead of getting another sitter, I could cancel.” Thus proving once again how easily life interfered with her and Julian.

      “Nope,” he said quickly. “No way.”

      This startled her. Logan knew she was going to the commissioning ceremony, and he couldn’t stand Julian. In Logan’s mind, Julian was the one thing that stood between them, preventing them from having a deeper relationship. Which was so wrong, but that was a different conversation. Still, she didn’t get why Logan seemed to want her to go to Ithaca.

      He must have read her mind. “You need to see him get his commission. Maybe it’ll be, I don’t know, closure for you.”

      “Closure?” She hated the sound of that word.

      “You need to see that the air force is his life.” Logan spoke kindly. “You’ll never be first with him. Maybe after this weekend, after he gets sent to Timbuktu, that’ll finally be clear to you.”

      It irked her that Logan assumed that was the way things would play out. He spoke as if he had some kind of crystal ball.

      “Great, now you’re my relationship analyst.” God, how did I get here? she wondered. Sometimes she looked around her life and asked herself that. How was it that she was getting relationship advice from the father of her child, a guy who had come into her life through an act of bad judgment, and stayed through sheer determination.

      “Logan—”

      “I want you to know, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, not to Timbuktu or the Pentagon or North Dakota or Cape Town. Here, Daisy. You know what you mean to me.”

      She did know. If she ever needed a reminder that this was true, all she had to do was remember what had happened the Christmas before last. The day had started out innocently enough. She and Charlie had been invited to spend the holiday with the O’Donnells, which meant taking the train with Logan from Avalon downstate to the city. She remembered feeling so torn that day, knowing Charlie deserved equal time with his paternal grandparents, yet realizing it would mean spending the holiday away from her own family. For Charlie’s sake, she’d put on a brave face, packed her bag and met Logan at the station.

      At the last minute, Julian had come to town to surprise her. His train had arrived shortly before hers was scheduled to leave. He’d come bounding over to her platform with his usual exuberance, which deflated visibly the moment he’d spotted Logan. She hadn’t known they would both be there. It was never comfortable having the two of them in the same vicinity.

      Predictably, and to her complete mortification, it had all gone wrong in a flurry of angry words and accusations. Like a couple of rutting animals, Julian and Logan had gotten into a fistfight right there on the train platform. A fistfight. Between two men who both claimed they cared about her—Logan, the passionate family man she’d known all her life and the father of her child, and Julian, the guy she hadn’t been able to get out of her heart since they’d first met.

      In the midst of the altercation, things had flown from pockets, littering the platform—change, a Swiss Army knife, keys … and a small velveteen jewel box. It had hit the pavement, popping open to reveal the unmistakable glint of a diamond ring. She’d been so shocked, she could barely think, but she’d blurted out, “Oh. You dropped something.”

      And God help her, she couldn’t be certain who had brought the ring.

      Most women dreamed of a romantic marriage proposal offered on bended knee with soft music playing in the background. In Daisy’s case it had been a nightmare enacted in public before a crowd of people. A far cry from a tender moment to remember and savor with misty-eyed fondness, it had been one of those occasions that had left her wishing the ground would open up and swallow her whole.

      Instead of a sweet recitation of love and devotion, the occasion had started with a fight. What happened next still made her cringe. A babble of spectators. Strangers pressing in, drawn by the drama. There had been a moment, a split-second leap of hope, when she imagined the ring had popped out of Julian’s pocket. But no. Marriage was discouraged for ROTC candidates.

      Seconds later, with one eye swelling shut and a trickle of blood coming from his lip, Logan had snatched up the box and said, “I meant to surprise you with this, but that son of a bitch forced my hand. I want you to be my wife.”

      Julian had made a sound of disgust and stalked away from the platform. More passengers gathered in close, intrigued. Daisy had prayed for a swift, merciful death.

      She had refused to see either Julian or Logan that Christmas and had spent the next semester and summer studying photography abroad. After several months in Germany,