Coming Home (The Santa Monica Trilogy Book 2) (13 page)

Grace’s father was of average height, but with broad shoulders and an upright posture that even after years out of uniform screamed military background. His partner, Peter, was taller, with a receding hairline and an easy smile. He ran a catering company that did a brisk business in weddings and Bar Mitzvahs.

Logan glanced around the comfortably appointed living room, his gaze snagging on a series of framed photographs on the wall of a younger version of Grace.

Joe sat in an armchair across from him, nursing a glass of scotch. From the kitchen, which opened off of the adjacent dining room, Logan could hear Grace’s laughter blending with Peter’s mellow tones. Whatever they were preparing together for dinner, it sounded like they were having fun.

The graduation ceremony had taken place yesterday. As Logan watched Grace walk across the temporary stage to accept a ceremonial scroll marking the completion of her residency training, he felt his chest tighten. God, he loved this woman.

He raised his phone and snapped a picture of her as she made her way through the reception line, shaking hands with faculty members and accepting congratulations. He took another photo of her glowing face as she looked into the audience and smiled directly at him.

Now, sitting in the living room of her father’s Chelsea brownstone, Logan pulled out his iPhone to share the moment with the man he hoped would be his future father-in-law.

Joe stared at the photos for a long time. “She looks just like her mother,” he finally said, handing the phone back. “Luckily, Grace is a lot stronger than her mother. Stronger than either of her parents, for that matter.”

Logan wasn’t sure how to respond.

Joe’s weathered face creased in a smile. “That’s okay, you don’t have to say anything. I’m just glad you called. Grace talked a lot about you early on, you know. When she first moved here after college.”

“I’m afraid to think what she might have said.”

Joe waved a dismissive hand. “Water under the bridge. The important thing is that you’re here now. Together.”

Logan had to admit that was something of a miracle. How often did a man get a second chance at love? He sure as hell wasn’t going to mess it up this time.

The swinging door from the kitchen opened. Grace backed into the dining room, carrying a large serving platter.

Logan hurried over to help.

“Careful,” she said. “It’s heavy.”

He adjusted his hold. “I’ve got it.”

And then, because he couldn’t resist, he leaned over the platter and kissed her.

She smiled against his lips. “What was that for?”

“I love you.”

She shook her head and stepped back. “You’re nuts.”

“Is that any way to speak to your future husband?”

“I haven’t agreed to marry you.”

“But you will.”

Instead of replying, she leaned in to kiss him again.

Then she drew back. Her grin warmed his heart.

When he turned to carry the platter to the table, he saw that Joe had followed him to the dining room. Judging by his amused expression, he had witnessed the exchange.

Logan set the food down. “She’ll come around. Eventually.”

“I have no doubt about that,” Joe chuckled. “No doubt at all.”

Three Years Later…

Grace lugged the groceries into the kitchen and put away the perishables. One of the things she loved best about the three-bedroom condo she and Logan had moved into shortly after their wedding was the large kitchen. It was a chef’s dream, equipped with state of the art appliances, including  a six-burner gas range, double electrical oven, separate professional-grade stainless steel refrigerator and freezer units, and massive granite counters that could easily accommodate several line cooks prepping a meal.

As she rinsed, trimmed the stems, and cut the eggplant lengthwise into quarter-inch sized slices, Grace glanced at the clock. She had about half an hour before Logan was due home. Plenty of time to get things in the oven, set the table, and slip into something more comfortable.

It was rare that she beat Logan home. Most of the time, he was already there by the time she walked through the door, dinner cooked and ready to serve. She’d taught him how to prepare some basic dishes, much to the amazement and delight of his sister Eva, who had despaired of either of her siblings ever learning their way around the kitchen.

But today Grace had made special arrangements for coverage at the clinic. It had taken a while to cut through all the bureaucratic red tape to get things up and running. Nearly a year, in fact, before she was able to fully staff the place. Now she had a full roster of faculty who took turns supervising residents there, as well as volunteer physicians from the community who donated their time and expertise to care for the women and children seeking help at the non-profit’s shelters. She had even managed to secure funding for additional administrative personnel, which freed her up to spend more time treating patients and overseeing the research project for which she had recently gotten a hefty grant from the National Institute of Mental Health.

She salted and lightly fried the eggplant, arranging the cooked slices on paper towels along the counter. As she mixed the filling—ricotta, mozzarella, chopped basil, freshly ground black pepper—the phone rang.

“How’s my girl?”

“Hi, Dad.” She tucked the receiver between her ear and shoulder and emptied a container of peeled crushed tomatoes into a glass casserole dish. “How are you doing?”

“Peter and I are driving down from San Francisco, stopping for a few days in Napa. What’s the name of that winery you and Logan like so much?”

“Chappellet.”

“Right, that’s the one. Peter’s planning to do the rounds and order a bunch of cases for shipping back home. You want us to get some for you and Logan?”

She wasn’t going to be drinking for a while, but Logan might want some wine to share with visitors. “A couple bottles of the Cab would be lovely, thanks. We can open it when you guys get here.”

“Excellent. Ruth ordered a few cases, too. Plus the Blanc de Noirs from Schramsberg. Sounds like she’s planning to do some more entertaining.”

“Yeah, you could say that,” Grace laughed. Somehow, her father and grandmother had managed to make peace over the last couple years. These days, he and Peter were regular visitors to Los Angeles, and each time they stayed with Ruth. “Grandma’s become the queen bee of Santa Monica’s country club set ever since the wedding.”

Ruth had recovered from her hip surgery in time to shuffle around the dance floor with her grandson-in-law at the reception. She opened up her house for the occasion, and enjoyed all the ensuing hoopla so much that she changed her mind about moving. Now she regularly hosted events for family, friends, and her favorite charities.

“Where else would I find a ballroom big enough for something like this?” she asked Grace, during a fundraiser Grace had talked her into having for the non-profit clinic.

It was true. As the
Santa Monica Magazine
society reporter pointed out in her coverage of the event, they didn’t build houses like this anymore.

After Grace confirmed with her father which day he and Peter planned to come for dinner, she hung up and resumed stuffing the eggplant with seasoned ricotta mixture. Setting the oven timer for thirty minutes, she turned her attention to making a quick salad.

She was going to miss this kitchen when they upgraded to a house with a yard. Logan had been pointing out property listings online for at least half a year. She hadn’t agreed to go to any open houses just yet, but she would. Eventually.

Just as she’d agreed to marry Logan—because, in the end, it came down to one thing. She loved and trusted him, and she couldn’t imagine her future without him.

As for his push to buy a house, it went hand-in-hand with his latest campaign to convince Grace that they were ready for kids. He had latched onto her grandmother’s argument that they weren’t getting any younger, then tacked on his own talking points. Like the fact that he now had tenure, which would allow him the flexibility of schedule to work from home several days a week.

“I’ll be a hands-on dad,” he promised, his fingers exploring her sensitized skin as his pelvis rocked against her. “On call day and night.”

She’d lost the conversational thread at that point, but Logan made sure to bring up the topic again, when they were less preoccupied.

“I’ll take paternity leave,” he promised. “Three months off the moment the baby is born.”

“Mm-hm.”

“And I don’t teach in the summer, so that’s another three months. Plus I’m swimming in funding these days. I could probably buy myself out of teaching for another quarter.”

“Really?”

“Why not? There’s already a precedent for that in the bioengineering department. I can talk to the dean about it.”

All Grace had to do was agree to pop out a kid—or two, or three.

“The more, the merrier,” Logan said. “We’ve already got built-in babysitters.”

That was certainly true. Logan’s nephew Ben, who was now almost twelve, had already proven himself on that score. Once he’d gotten over the “ick” factor of his mom getting pregnant at the advanced age of thirty-five, he was more than happy to help out with his baby brother. A baby cousin added to the mix ought to be a breeze.

Then there was Logan’s sister Eva and her new husband, Max—who happened to be an emergency room physician, as well as a successful author of medical thrillers. Who better to have on hand, Logan pointed out, than an ER doc who could diagnose, treat, and distract you from the boo-boos at the same time?

Logan’s sister Angie was likewise happy to help out. Despite what seemed like a personal aversion to what she called “domestic drudgery,” she loved playing auntie to Eva’s boys. And she’d hinted often enough to Grace that she’d welcome the chance to do the same for Grace and Logan’s rug-rats, once they got around to having them.

Angie and Eva’s mother, Denise, who had long ago “adopted” Logan into the family fold, was more subtle about it. But last Christmas she did manage to drop into the conversation how much she missed having a newborn to cuddle, now that Eva’s youngest was fully motorized and too busy toddling after his older brother to have much patience for his grandmother’s hugs.

As the discussion flowed around her, Grace slipped her hand into Logan’s and squeezed. Sometimes she still had trouble believing how lucky she was. She might have taken a detour along the way, but eventually she’d gotten everything she had ever wanted: love and family, as well as a fulfilling career.

And now, thanks to Logan’s powers of persuasion and perseverance, they were about to embark on the next big adventure of their lives.

She rested a hand on her barely discernible bump. So far, knock wood, it had been an easy pregnancy. A little nausea, a little fatigue, and that was it. Good thing, too, since she and Logan weren’t planning on sharing the news until after her first ultrasound confirmed that everything was okay. They’d already had one early miscarriage a few months ago, and were keeping their fingers crossed.

Her appointment wasn’t for another several days, but today she’d had one of the clinic ob/gyn’s do an unofficial scan. Two heartbeats. No wonder she was beginning to show so early.

She finished setting the table and was in the process of pulling on a silky empire-waist dress when she heard the door open.

Logan planted a kiss on the back of her neck and wrapped his arms around her waist. A warm palm settled on her belly. “How are my two favorite girls doing?”

She leaned back against him and smiled. “How do you know it’s a girl?”

He nipped her earlobe. “Gut feeling.”

“What if it turns out to be a boy?”

“A boy is a good start,” he said. “But we’ll have to keep trying until we get it right.”

She laughed and turned in the circle of his arms to give him a full-on, no-holds-barred kiss. When they finally came up for air, he cupped her buttocks and lifted, setting her down on the surface of the nearby vanity.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” she protested.

He drew up the hem of her dress until it was rucked about her hips and stepped between her spread legs. Burying his nose in the crook of her neck, he breathed her in. “You smell good.”

She dropped her head back to give him greater access. “It’s the eggplant.”

“No,” he said, pressing against her core. “It’s you.”

The oven timer went off just then, and they both groaned.

He kissed her once more before stepping back and helping her down to the floor.

“Wash up,” she said. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

“How about you turn off the oven and I’ll meet you back here?”

She hooked a finger through the belt loop of his jeans. “You’re not hungry?”

“Not for food,” he growled.

“Okay.” She let go and danced out of his reach. “Be right back.”

In the kitchen, she grabbed a couple oven mitts and pulled the eggplant rolls from the oven. Dinner could wait. So could her news. At least until after she and Logan had some quality time together.

She took a last look around the kitchen and shut off the light.

Yes, she’d miss this place. But she couldn’t deny her excitement at the thought of what lay ahead.

Logan and her. In a new house. With twins.

Even a few years ago, she wouldn’t have been able to imagine such a thing.

Who knew that life could turn out to be so good?

~The End~