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  • Home > Samantha Young > On Dublin Street Series > Moonlight on Nightingale Way (Page 20)     
    Moonlight on Nightingale Way(On Dublin Street #6)(20) by Samantha Young
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    I tensed, relaxing only when she put her arms around me.

    “Thank you.”

    I hugged her back. “You’re very welcome.”

    She pulled away and smiled. Hope glimmered in her beautiful eyes. “This is exactly where he was meant to be,” she whispered, and walked away before I could ask her to explain.

    The door shut behind her and Cole.

    “What did she say?” Logan said.

    I shook my head. “Just thank you.”

    He didn’t look convinced, but he dropped it. “What now?”

    “Come over.” I gestured to the door. “I’ll make you and Maia dinner.”

    He did that staring-at-me-intently thing again. “Why are you doing this? Is it for Maia, or for me?”

    Blame it on my exhaustion or temporary insanity, but I found myself confessing a little of my story to him. “Because to a certain extent I’ve been where Maia is. I know what she’s going through. There was no parental figure there for me, trying. You’re going to try, and I admire that. I’d like to help you both, I guess.”

    Logan was quiet so long I was starting to feel stupid for revealing that about myself.

    “We better go next doo—”

    “You’re a good woman, Grace Farquhar,” Logan interrupted solemnly. “I won’t forget this.”

    Not sure how to respond to his words or the way they pressed down on my chest in painful pleasure, I smirked. “Um… you might not think that once you taste my cooking.”

    Maia was standing in my sitting room before the bookshelves that lined the full length of one wall.

    She was so still and tense that Logan and I could tell something wasn’t quite right even with her back to us.

    “Maia, are you okay?” Logan said gruffly.

    “Maia?”

    She looked over her shoulder at us, tears in her eyes. “You have so many books.”

    Confused, I nodded. “I do like to read.”

    “But it’s like a library. You own all these books.”

    “Yes, I do.”

    “And you have really nice furniture.” She gestured to the room.

    I looked around at my place, drinking it in as if from her perspective. I took pride in my home, not just because it was who I was, but because I worked from home and so I liked to be surrounded by nice things. My style was shabby chic. Everything was pretty but comfortable. Lots of cushions and throws and books and artwork.

    “It does look like a fucking magazine spread,” Logan muttered, staring around at everything.

    “I’ll take that as a compliment,” I said dryly.

    “And it’s clean,” Maia added. Fresh tears pooled in her eyes. “This is how other people live. With books and nice things and clean. Why didn’t she give me that?” she begged. “I loved her. She should have loved me and given me that.” Her tears broke free, but before I got to her Logan did. He was across the room and pulling her into his arms in under a few seconds.

    He let her cry it all out as I stood there crying for her too.

    But I was also hopeful for her, because only ten minutes ago Logan MacLeod had been a scared-shitless ex-con, and now he was stepping up for Maia, comforting her without even having to be asked.

    There was a possibility Logan was a natural at this stuff. His sister certainly seemed to think so.

    For Maia’s sake, I hoped so.

    “Is this all right?” I said, pulling back the duvet on my guest room bed.

    Maia was looking a little shell-shocked again. “It’s really nice.”

    The guest room was decked out with a mahogany sleigh bed and matching furniture. The walls were a soft lilac, and the accent colors for the furnishings were black and silver. I loved my guest room and was more than thankful I had it set up and ready to go.

    Dinner had been awkward. I had had no grand expectations of anything else. It was going to take time for Maia and Logan to get used to each other. Logan asked questions about school and her hobbies. She muttered more stuff about maths and physics and something about a choir, but it was like pulling teeth to get information from her. I think it had all just hit her.

    Plus, she and Logan were both exhausted, and Logan had to leave early to get ready for work. It was only eight o’ clock, but Maia’s lids were drooping, so I’d insisted she get ready for bed.

    We had a lot to do the next day and we all needed rest.

    She dumped her book bag on the floor as I handed her a pair of clean pajamas.

    “You can borrow those for now. Tomorrow we’ll need to do some shopping. We’ll just get you a few things until…” I trailed off, not knowing how to complete that sentence without sounding insensitive.

    “Until Logan gets the paternity results back,” Maia finished for me. “It’s okay. I’m not stupid. I know it would be insane of either of you to spend too much money on me for it to come back that I’m not his kid.”

    “I think we both know that with those eyes of yours and that face that is scarily similar to his sister’s, the chances are you’re Logan’s. But that doesn’t mean this will all work out legally. We’re being cautious because you might not get to stay with him, and I just want you to be prepared for that.”

    Her lower lip trembled, but she nodded and slumped down on the bed. “Why are you helping, Grace? I mean, you and Logan aren’t together, and from the questions he was asking you at dinner, it doesn’t even seem like you know each other that well.”

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