Emily

Logan slides into the booth beside me and his shoulder touches mine. I lean into him, just because I can. He lowers his head and kisses me, and his lips are soft and supple. I haven’t seen him since this morning, and I still get a little flip in my tummy when I look into his eyes, even after all the time we’ve lived together. He lingers over my mouth like he hasn’t seen me in weeks. He was just inside me this morning.

My cheeks are warm when he lifts his head, and I have to take a minute to catch my breath. How was your day? he asks. Logan is deaf and he signs to me when it’s just the two of us. He only opens his mouth to talk to me when others are there or when his hands are full. Usually, they’re full of me. I’m not complaining. Not a bit.

Fine, I sign back. Finished the shopping. It’s almost Thanksgiving and we’re spending it with all his brothers. Sam agreed to do most of the cooking, but he made a rule that we had to do the shopping. I’m glad it’s cool out, so I don’t have to worry about leaving it in the trunk for a few minutes.

Where’s all the food? Logan asks.

In my trunk. You can take it over to Paul’s, right? When you leave here? I brush a blond curl back from his forehead. He grins and does the same to me, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. How was your day?

He motions like he’s weighing something his hands. So-so. Kind of like mine. He shrugs. He looks down at his watch. Pete and Reagan running late? he asks.

I shrug my shoulders.

Pete and Reagan are the only other couple in the family, so we try to set aside time to hang with them, particularly since Reagan is new to the group.

The waitress stops and Logan holds up two fingers and twists it. Two and two. She knows us. She knows that means we want two pieces of apple pie and two root beers. “Sure thing,” she says. She squeezes Logan’s shoulder and walks away.

Did you finish that ad campaign for Madison Avenue? I ask. Logan is doing an internship at my dad’s company and he worked all night to finish a last-minute proposal. Madison Avenue is an upscale clothing company worth millions, and Logan is starting out at the bottom. He’s crazy-talented when it comes to art, so I have no doubt he’s going to advance quickly. He works really hard at everything he does, and this is no exception.

He nods and gives me a thumbs-up. They liked it.

I smile. Of course they did. I chuck his shoulder with mine. You were worried for nothing.

It was sort of a big deal.

The waitress comes back with the pie and I hear a commotion at the door. Pete and Reagan, I sign, pointing behind us.

Finally! Logan says, but he’s grinning. He fills his mouth with a huge bite of pie.

Reagan slides into the booth across from us, and Pete scoots in with her. She smiles at me. I like her. I am very possessive over the Reed boys, but Reagan is okay. I have spent some time with her recently, and I find her to be funny and engaging. She had a rough time of it, and so did Pete, when he went to jail. They were both a little bit broken, and while they’ll never be what society might consider fixed, they’re wonderful together. Pete drops an arm around her shoulders, and she snuggles into him.

“You’re late,” Logan says. He uses his voice because Reagan is just learning to sign. Logan told her she didn’t have to learn. He reads lips really well, but she is determined to be part of the family, and the Reed family has a deaf member.

We all speak and sign at the same time when she’s around, and she’s picking it up quickly.

“Sorry,” Pete says. He smirks down at Reagan. Her cheeks go rosy, and Logan snorts.

“TMI, Pete,” Logan says.

“What?” Pete protests. But he’s grinning like hell. “I didn’t say anything.”

Logan points to Reagan. “The flush of her cheeks says it all.” Logan chuckles, and Reagan goes even redder.

Pete steals a lump of Logan’s pie with his thumb and forefinger and lifts it to his lips. Logan holds out his fork. “Use a utensil, asswipe,” he says.

“Fuck you, dickwad,” Pete says, but then he fills his mouth with a huge bite of Logan’s pie, his eyes rolling back a little as he savors it. “That’s good pie,” he says around a mouthful of food.

“What?” Logan asks. Logan can’t read lips when someone talks with a full mouth, and Pete’s hands were busy with the fork.

“I said good pie,” Pete says again after he swallows.

“So glad you approve,” Logan says drolly.

Reagan leans forward and says, “So, what time is dinner tomorrow night?” She raises her brow.

I’m glad she changes the subject because Logan and Pete can bicker together for hours.

“It’s an all day kind of thing,” Pete tells her. “We can come and go whenever we want as long as at least some of us are there to help Sam cook in the morning.”

“Is Kelly coming this year?” he asks.

Kelly is Paul’s ex-girlfriend and the mother of his daughter, Hayley, although we’re never sure they’re completely exes. I’m almost certain they still sleep together sometimes, but they see other people, too. It’s so strange. But Paul is the best father I ever knew. I lay my hand on my flat stomach. I hope I can be half as good a parent some day.

I’m always worried about having kids. Will genetics make them dyslexic like me? I hope not. I wouldn’t wish my learning disability on anyone.

Logan shakes his head. “Kelly has plans. But Hayley will be there.”