Page 8 of Wait for Me

When Logan had chatted up that woman in the lunchroom, he had been fully aware that Marie was nearby. He wanted Marie to see that he had moved on.

Had he moved on, really?

When he had walked past her in a show of deliberate shunning…

He had felt terrible doing it.

He wanted to sit at her table and talk about Jonas, how much he had grown in the last three years she had been wasting her time in Europe.

Wasting?

Truth be told, Logan had no idea what Marie did in Europe these days. She hadn’t been transparent about it ever since they had met more than six years ago. She had never come clean about the lies.

All he knew was that Marie Bouchard had not been a translator at all.

Beyond that, no amount of investigation could dig up who she was, except that she had been a translator. After a while, Logan stopped paying the private investigative firm.

As far as he was concerned, Marie Bouchard was not who she had said she was.

Was that even her real name?

It was as if Logan had married a mirage.

A chimera.

Still, she had mothered a child. There must have been some love there, yes?

Whether or not Marie confessed her dissimulations to God was of no concern to Logan. He knew that he himself had to be blameless before God.

For that reason, he had to apologize to Marie for being rude to her—the mother of his child.

He turned around to put both elbows on the wood railings. “Lord, why wouldn’t Marie tell me the truth about who she really is and what she really does?”

The answer came to him quickly, just like that.

For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God.

“Romans 3:23. Should’ve figured.”

Logan hung his head, then warily emailed Marie.

* * *

Logan dragged himself across the carpeted hallway between his stateroom and Marie’s. He had emailed her, and she had ignored him.

Or he thought she had.

Logan wanted to get this gnaw off his chest so he could at least have a pleasant weekend before he dove into what would probably result in a big argument with his cousin on Monday over the failed investments they had made.

Until then, he wanted a quiet Saturday and Sunday, thank you very much.

Logan slowed down his steps, saying hello to the stewards greeting him, the entire time wondering what to say to Marie once he knocked on her door.

Six years prior, he had known what to say every time they were together, starting from their initial meeting at the French Riviera, and then ending in Atlanta.

Ending, indeed.

She had been beautiful, charming, sweet, and had spoken seven languages. After he had hired her for her first translation job for Urquhart Enterprises in Sweden, she then accompanied the Urquhart cousins to the various branch offices in Europe, translating for them in both business meetings and at social events. By the time they reached London, Logan was madly in love.

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