Everyone in the limo stops talking. I look from person to person, just to be sure I’m not missing anything. But no one is saying anything. Emily is looking past me, out the window. And there’s a noticeable divide between her parents. Trip is cool and collected. The f**ker.

Emily

Logan is the most handsome man in the whole room. And I’m not just saying that because he’s mine. There are a lot of models wearing Madison Avenue clothes, and none of them wear them as well as Logan does. He’s just darn handsome.

My dad’s new ad campaign is displayed on bulletin boards around the room. Logan stops in front of one and scrunches up his nose.

“You don’t like it?” I ask.

He shrugs. “It’s fine, I guess.”

I tilt my head, trying to see what he sees in the pictures. “What’s wrong with it?”

He shrugs again. “Nothing really. I just think it could be better.”

Trip claps a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll be sure to tell the big guy how much you like his ad campaign.” He winks at me. He’s such an ass. I can’t believe I ever considered marrying him at all.

“Your dad will have one more reason to hate me,” he says. He squeezes my hand, though.

One of the models approaches us and lays a hand on Logan’s arm. “Would you like to dance with me?” she asks.

He shakes his head and politely declines. Then he adds, “I’m going to dance with my girl.” He takes my hand and pulls me out onto the floor. He smiles down at me. “I can’t feel the beat to this kind of music.”

He looks around at the other couples. I see my dad step onto the floor with the model who approached Logan, and I roll my eyes. Logan takes me in his arms, his hand holding mine. He pulls me close to him, just a breath away, not touching, and my heart starts to flutter. Will I ever get used to being with this man who makes me feel so perfect?

He picks up the rhythm of the music by watching the other dancers. “You’re pretty good at this,” I say. He just smiles and shrugs. “Mom made us all take dance lessons when we were young. Paul did a year of ballet before he grew enough balls to tell her he wouldn’t do it anymore.” He chuckles. I’ll never enjoy a sound more than that of his laughter.

When we first met, he didn’t speak at all. He started talking again for me, and it took him even longer to learn to laugh. Sometimes he can’t tell how loud he is, and he doesn’t alter his voice well enough for the situation.

This is one of those times.

My dad shoots me a glare. I look up at Logan and just smile.

“What’s bothering you?” he asks.

“Not a thing,” I say. And it’s not. I’d trade my right arm for his voice, if someone told me I had to choose between the two. Hearing his words, his laughter and his thoughts means the world to me.

My dad dances close to us, and suddenly, he’s pulling us apart and taking Logan’s place. “You don’t mind if I cut in, do you?” he asks Logan, but he doesn’t look at Logan when he says it.

Logan raises a curious brow at me. I mouth the word sorry to him. He smiles and shakes his head.

My dad abandoned his dancing partner on the floor, and she approaches Logan and holds out her arms. Logan looks down at her for a moment, and I see his chest bellow with a sigh before he takes her hand in his and puts one on her waist. I don’t like it. Not at all.

“Stop looking like that, Emily,” my dad warns. “The boy is doing fine.”

“I’m not worried, Dad,” I protest. Well, I kind of am. Logan isn’t used to these kinds of parties. There are a lot of people here who make a lot of money.

“Mmm hmm,” he hums. He spins me around in a circle, and surprisingly, it makes me laugh. My dad looks happy.... Something is up. I can feel it.

He skirts around the edges of the dance floor until I lose sight of Logan completely. “You can do better, Em,” he says. “A lot better.”

I grit my teeth together. “Define better, Dad,” I toss back. “I highly doubt that I can do better than a man who loves me like crazy, who will care for me and be there for me for the rest of my life.”

“He’s not our kind, Em,” my dad says.

“He’s not your kind, Dad,” I breathe out on a heavy sigh. “He’s most definitely my kind.”

“You can do better.” He pinches his lips together in a straight line. “Trip is afraid that you think you can’t do better than Logan because of your dyslexia.”

I stop and step back. “What?” He may as well have kneed me in the gut. Trip said as much to me, but I never expected my dad to even entertain the idea. “I just want what’s best for you.”

“Then let me be,” I say. I step back, and I walk around the edge of the dance floor looking for Logan. I am seething. The crowd parts to get out of my way. Except for Trip. Trip steps up beside me and holds out his arms for a dance.

“No, thank you,” I grit out.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, as though he’s all concerned.

“Nothing.” I don’t want to talk to Trip.

“You’re angry because Logan went outside with that girl?”

My eyes immediately meet his, and then his gaze skitters away. “What girl?” I ask. The girl he was dancing with? “Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know, but they were looking pretty chummy.” He shrugs and points toward the terrace.