Page 82 of Ethan & Grace

“That’s OK,” Logan replied. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

That caught me off guard. “Really?”

He nodded, though he didn’t look particularly glad. But maybe he was just as nervous as I was? After all this time, we were strangers to each other and probably had very little in common. I didn’t know the first thing about cooking, and I doubted we enjoyed the same music—judging by Logan’s appearance, I suspected he shared Henry’s questionable taste.

“What’s for dinner?” Henry asked to fill the silence.

Only then did I register the delicious smell.

“Tagliatelle al ragù, with homemade pasta. Vegan for you, of course.”

I looked at Henry. “You’ve got him cooking for you on his birthday?”

“He wouldn’t want me to cook for him.”

“True. Unless I wanted burnt toast with butter.”

“Hey! I can make that tofu scramble you showed me. Kate was a big fan.”

Logan snorted. “Kate would probably be a big fan of your burnt toast too.”

Henry opened his mouth to reply but then closed it again, as if he couldn’t really argue with that.

Logan gave me a quick tour of his flat. It was modest—one bathroom, one bedroom, and an open-plan living area and kitchen with a dining table. The sofa was just long enough for Logan to stretch out on, and the wall-mounted television looked like it had seen better days. The kitchen fittings, however, were modern and high-quality, at least as far as I could tell.

At the kitchen island, Henry and I perched on stools while Logan moved behind the stove, tossing sauces and chopping herbs at a speed that probably would have cost me several fingertips. Henry grabbed the wine bottle from the counter, uncorked it and filled the two glasses Logan had set out. When Logan reached for a third wineglass from the cupboard, I motioned for him to leave it and asked for a glass of water instead, even though the wine probably would have helped me relax a little. But I’d relied on alcohol to cope with my feelings for too long, and it seemed wise to stay away from the stuff for a while.

“Is Maxton coming by later?” Henry asked.

“No. He’s keeping an eye on the restaurant tonight.”

“How hard is it for you to take a Friday night off?”

“Not hard. I’m not a workaholic like you. I enjoy my days off. I slept in, went to a few delis and my favourite market to restock my own supplies, then I hit the gym and had lunch with Maxton and Tristan.”

“What about Fiona?” Henry pressed. “Is she coming over?”

Logan wrinkled his nose. “That’s over.”

“How long were you together?” I asked, trying to join the conversation as I gripped the water glass Logan had set down in front of me tightly.

“We weren’t together. It was just a casual thing. It wouldn’t have worked out between us.” Logan pulled open a drawer to reveal an impressive collection of spices.

“It hasn’t worked out with anyone for almost two years,” Henry added.

“Tough breakup?”

“I wish,” Henry muttered into his wineglass significantly. Logan rolled his eyes but didn’t respond to my question, leaving our older brother to fill me in. “Logan had a one-night stand a couple years ago. He fell madly in love with the woman, but she never gave him her real name or number. And he’s been looking for her ever since.”

I let out a low whistle. “Two years is a long time to chase after a woman who clearly doesn’t want to be found by you.”

“I’m not chasing anyone!”

Henry nodded. “True. You’d have to know where she is to chase her. Maybe she was only visiting London and now lives happily married on the other side of the world. It would be best to finally get over her.”

Logan poured a little of the pasta water into the sauce with more gusto than necessary. “There’s nothing to get over. It was just one night. All I’m saying is that Fiona and I didn’t click. That doesn’t mean I’m looking for that woman. I just want someone who makes me feel the way she did, that’s all.” He shot Henry a meaningful look. “You, of all people, should understand that.”

“I do,” I said automatically.