Page 87 of Catnip, Claws, and Chaos

My throat tightens at the thought of Logan.

“Emily? Are you coming?” Mom calls down the hallway.

“On my way!” My voice emerges thick with unshed tears. I square my shoulders and march toward the dining room.

Damn hormones.

After dinner, I retreat to my bedroom, exhausted from maintaining normalcy. Pretending interest in Dad's neighborhood gossip, nodding through Mom's gardening plans, deflecting questions about my future.

I burrow beneath my childhood quilt, pulling it to my chin. Demon curls at my feet. My phone glows on the nightstand, illuminating the darkened room. I've kept it powered off since arriving, avoiding the outside world and the temptation to call him, just to hear his voice once more.

Before fleeing New York, I texted Kate and Sarah that I needed space and was staying with family for a while.

And within half an hour, messages and calls bombarded my phone. Their love felt suffocating despite its good intentions. I adore my friends, butbeing left aloneremains a foreign concept to them.

I know they've called Mom for updates. I've caught her whispering into the receiver when she thought I was out of earshot. I can't blame them for worrying.

Grandma would scold me for wallowing. She never tolerated self-pity, especially regarding men. “Women who claim they can't live without some man are fooling themselves,” she'd declare, chin lifted defiantly. “No person is indispensable.”

“How do you know if you're really in love?” I once asked her, confident in my adolescent understanding. “When you can't live without them?”

She laughed a short, dismissive bark. “That's not love, child. That's dependency. Fear masquerading as devotion. A prison, not a choice.”

“Then how do you know?” I pressed.

Her face transformed then, years falling away like autumn leaves, revealing glimpses of the young woman she'd been. She gathered me onto her lap, arms strong despite her age. “You'll know when you can't help but smile at the sight of them. Even after decades together, even when you've memorized every line of their face, their presence will still delight, surprise, and fill you with joy. Love makes your heart smile, Emily, not your face. It lives inside, private and precious.”

“That sounds complicated,” I replied.

“No, baby. It's beautifully simple. One day, you'll understand.” She kissed the top of my head, and I nestled against her, believing despite my confusion.

Now I understand, Grandma.

When Logan entered a room, sunlight broke through clouds in my chest. I remember the unconscious smile that bloomed whenever he appeared. Not because I needed him but because his presence brought me joy.

I'm strong enough to raise this child alone. I don't need Logan to survive. But I'll miss that heart-smile with an ache no amount of ice cream can soothe.

I curl onto my side, one hand on my abdomen, the other clutching my pillow. We'll manage, little one. Somehow, we'll be okay.

“Have you told him?”Mom sets a steaming mug before me while studying my face as if my answer should have changed in the past few days.

I wrap my hands around the mug. “Nope.”

She settles across from me, face softened with concern. “I'm trying to understand, baby girl. For days, you've raved about this man?—”

“I never raved!”

“Last day you called him, and I'm quoting directly, ‘Superman with a veterinary degree.’”

Heat crawls up my neck. “It means nothing.”

She reaches across the table, capturing my hand in hers. “Why don't you want to tell him?”

I stare at our interlaced fingers. Her hands bear slight age spots, her wedding band worn smooth by decades. Mine show chipped polish and a coffee stain on one thumb. How do you explain Logan's complexity? The maddening, beautiful contradiction of him? I love him with an intensity that frightens me, but he explicitly doesn't want children, and I refuse to force him into a role he never chose.

“Logan doesn't want children,” I finally whisper. “He made that clear from the beginning.”

Mom's eyes widen, but she maintains her gaze. “And you decided to have this baby anyway.”

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