Chapter 19

****

Megan

It’s been two weeks since Logan announced to the world that he has a daughter. Thanks to him tagging me in all of the pictures he posted of her, it has doubled the amount of traffic to my Instagram and other social media. After the lunch I had with the girls, I redownloaded Instagram, I tell myself it’s so I can see Ella’s photos, but that’s not one hundred percent true. On a night, I find myself scrolling through his posts and looking at some of the comments. He hasn’t posted a picture of her face, which I’m happy about. When he dropped her off on Thursday, he had asked me how I felt about the photos. I told him it was fine as long as he kept her face out of them. He agreed.

A day later, Logan announced on Twitter that he’s single, that he and Zoe haven’t been in a relationship for a long time and that he did not propose to her. Shock; was the only word I could use to describe how I felt about that.

Ella loves staying at his; they’re still decorating her room. Ella can’t decide on what other colours she wants in her room. I’ve asked her what colours she has already, and she keeps telling me it’s a surprise. I think she’s stalling because she gets to sleep in Logan’s bed with him.

When he brought her back, he told me I was right. He woke up with her foot in his face. He laughed when he told me and said it was adorable. Ella still isn’t calling him Dad; I don’t know what else to do. I can’t force her to call him it, but I can see the hurt in him whenever she calls him Logan. It doesn’t help that she calls David Granddad. I’d asked her casually one day when I was getting her ready for bed.

---

I sit on Ella’s bed as she pulls a book from her bookcase. She runs back onto her bed and gets into her covers before laying the book on my lap. BFG, she loves this book. “Ella,” I say as I open the book. “Your daddy and I were wondering why you only call him Logan?” I ask, trying not to sound serious.

“He told me to call him Logan,” she says as she picks up her fluffy stuffed dog that is nearly identical to Max. She’s had that since she was a baby.

“Ok,” I say as I look at her. She smiles. “What if he wants you to call him dad?” I ask. She frowns at the question.

“But he doesn’t look like a daddy,”

“What do you mean?” I ask, frowning this time.

“He’s really pretty; most daddies aren’t,” she says, making me smile. “Most daddies are old and big and scary,” she says, and I realise that’s what is portrayed in many of the Disney films we watch and the tv.

“Do I look like a mommy?” I ask.

“You look like my mommy,” she says. “I’m pretty because you’re pretty,” she adds.

“Maybe,” I say. “Or it’s because you’re made up of both your daddy and me. You’re our love rolled into one beautiful little girl,” I tell her. I pause as a comfortable quiet comes over us. I understand what she’s saying. The way fathers are portrayed on kids tv has built an image in her mind of how fathers are supposed to look. Logan doesn’t fit that image, so she feels a little uncomfortable calling him dad.

“You can call him dad or daddy. Either one, I know he’d like that,” I tell her.

“Really?” she asks. “He won’t be mad?” she adds. I shake my head and smile at her hopefulness.

“No, he won’t be mad, but you call him it when you’re ready; no one is forcing you to,” I tell her.

---

I place the box of toys going for donation next to the front door. Over the past two weeks, I’ve been filling up a box nearly every day to take to goodwill or local charity shops. The spare room is full of so much old stuff it’s taken days. I told the girls I’d do it because many things in the room are Ella’s old baby things.

When Logan drops Ella off, he offers to take some boxes for me, and I let him. I’ve also let him take any of Ella’s baby things. He took one of her first onesies, a blanket and one of her first outfits. It was a denim dungaree dress with a light pink t-shirt with matching tights and shoes.

After I cleared the spare room, I cleaned it, changed the bedsheets, vacuumed and made it look less like a dumping ground and more like a guest bedroom. Once that was done, I decided on going for a run with Max. After that, I worked out. This is the first whole weekend I’ve had off in a while. Without Ella, I’m finding it hard to keep busy. Usually, I’m occupied with her, or I’m studying and seeing as school doesn’t start up again for another two weeks, and Ella is with Logan this weekend; I’m getting through my list of jobs pretty quickly.

Courtney and Yasmin are working tonight; they’ve both been busy today. Courtney’s mother is visiting. Courtney refused to let her stay with us, and Yasmin spent the day researching the novel she is writing. They both had gone shopping separately and came home briefly to shower and change before leaving.

On my way back from my run, I stopped in the local market at a natural beauty stall to get something to pamper myself with. I plan to have the most relaxing bath in my life with a glass of wine and then curl up with a book in bed.

Stripping out of my clothes, I test the water with my hand running my fingers through the bubbles. The stall I went to was all handmade bath bombs and bubble baths, so now my bathwater is a bright pink, and the bubbles are a mixture of white, lilac and pink.

Touching my neck, I sigh at the stab of pain at losing my necklace. I’m not sure how it’s missing as I hardly take it off. I thought maybe Ella had it, but it’s nowhere in her room, and she swore to me she hasn’t got it. The only time I take it off is at work, and even then, it’s not all the time. I always put it back on.

Sighing to myself, I walk out of my bathroom towards the kitchen; Max isn’t far behind me. The upside to being in the apartment on my own, I can bring out my inner nudist; unlike Courtney and Ella, they are nudists. I give Max one of his leather treats to keep him entertained while I’m in the bath. If I don’t, he sits and watches me. It’s not a problem, but he usually wants to get in with me, especially when there are bubbles.

My bath is perfect; I think I’ve outdone myself, I’d had a shower after my workout, so this is just for pure pleasure and relaxation. Taking a sip of my wine, I smile to myself. I may miss my baby, but this is nice. The smell of lavender and rose billows up from the steam of my bathwater, caressing my senses.

I’m nearly asleep when the jingle of my phone disrupts me. I lazily look at my phone next to me to see Logan video-calling me. Ignoring it seems so desirable; I’m lethargic and ready for dreamland.

The relationship between Logan and me has blossomed nicely over the past two weeks. There have been no stolen glances or flirtatious comments or touches. Everything is focused on Ella. His focus on Ella is heartwarming. He rings every night when she’s not at his. He asked me if he could get her a phone to talk to him whenever she wants. Apparently, she likes playing games on his phone. He tells me he only lets her on it for an hour or whenever he has a meeting at work, and she’s there. I told him I’d think about it.

Sliding my finger across the screen to answer it, I pick my phone up and make sure it’s only my head in the frame.

“Mommy,” Ella says happily.

I smile, “Hi sweetie, why aren’t you asleep?”

“I wanted to say night to you, mommy. Logan said I could talk to you before going to bed,”

“Ok,” I say.

“Do you want to say hi to Logan?” she asks, and before I can answer her, she turns the phone to Logan, who is looking through a book. “Look, Logan, it’s my mommy,” Ella says. Logan looks at the screen and smiles.

“Hi,” I say with a slight wave. Ella turns the phone back to her.

“Are you in the bath, mommy?” she asks.

“Yes,”

“A bubble bath?” she asks. I nod, making her pout at me. “Pink bubbles?” she asks, and I nod. “Aww, mommy,”

“Don’t worry. I left you some to use too,”

“Yay,” she happily says. I chuckle a little.

“Is daddy going to read you a bedtime story?” I ask.

“Yeah, stay on the phone, Mommy so that you can hear too,” she tells me.

“Ok,” I say and watch her get into bed. She’s so happy when she’s with him; Logan is really good with her. Every time she comes home from being with him, she tells me what they’ve done and whether it’s watching movies or he’s taken her somewhere for the day, her excitement level is the same. Everything he does with her she is intrigued by.

“Night, Mommy, I love you,” she says, and I know Logan is holding the phone.

“I love you too, Elle-belle,” I tell her.

“Night Logan, I love you,” I hear her voice say shyly. I can’t help but smile as I feel the sting of tears in my eyes. I’ve not heard her say that yet to him, and by the sharp intake I heard from Logan, he hasn’t heard her say it before either.

“I...I love you too, sweetie,” he tells her. He then comes into view as he kisses her on the cheek. This little girl has nearly reduced him to tears. I watch as he places the phone against something so I can see them both.

Logan clears his throat and starts to read to Ella. His deep baritone comes softly through the phone speaker as he reads the second instalment of Harry Potter. I place the phone against a bottle of shampoo and lean back in the tub as I listen. His accent comes through more when he tries to do different voices for the characters. Ella’s giggles sound around my bathroom when he tries to do Dumbledores.

After a couple of minutes, his voice turns to a whisper that I can hardly hear as I’m falling asleep too. With the calm of his voice, coupled with my warm bath, I’m lulled to sleep.

“She’s asleep,” I hear Logan say more clearly. I open my eyes and look at my phone. “You too by the look of things,” he smiles as he says it. I smile softly and lift my head.

“Sorry,”

“If I had known you were in the bath, I wouldn’t have let her call you,”

“It’s ok. I need to get out; I’ve been in for a while,” I tell him and take a sip of my wine.

“Are you drinking in the bath?” he asks with surprise in his tone.

“Don’t judge. I’m home alone,” I tell him. He chuckles as I watch him move through his apartment.

“I’m not judging; I was just asking,” he tells me with a slight smile on his face. I narrow my eyes at him playfully. He seems to find something about me funny.

“Have you got plans tomorrow?” he asks. I shake my head. “I’m thinking of taking Ella to the Hamptons. I have a beach house there,” he states. “She asked me if you could come with us,” he adds. I frown and place my drink on the side as I think about what he just asked me. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” he says after a little while of me not saying anything. I want to, but at the same time, I don’t. Logan and I have only just gotten a mutual understanding. Going somewhere overnight with him seems like I’d be sending him mixed signals.

“Can I let you know in the morning?” I ask him. I want to go, mostly because I know Ella loves the beach, and after hearing what she said to Courtney and Yasmin about Logan and me. I want to be able to make her feel like she has a typical family.

“Sure,” he says and gives me a small smile. I have a feeling he knew I wouldn’t say yes. “This is awkward,” he adds.

“Why?”

“Well, knowing you're in the bath makes me know you’re naked, and now I’m just thinking about you naked,” he honestly tells me. I feel my cheeks heat at that. I clear my throat a little as I notice myself going red in the camera. He smirks a little at me.

“Are you flirting with me?” I ask.

“Aren’t I always?” he counters. I smile and shake my head as I look towards my bathroom door. It’s then I see from the mirror facing my door a man dressed in black reflected in it. I frown and sit forwards as I watch him. His back is to me, but I can see he’s standing by my dresser. “I think that’s our only way of communicating nowadays,” Logan says. I gulp and take my phone to send him a text instead of saying it out loud. The last thing I want is to spook this person. I can feel my fear crawling over me as I watch this man smell my underwear.

‘There’s sum1 in my bedroom,’ I quickly type. I hear Logans phone ping at my message. He frowns as he looks at me. I watch the smile fade from his face as he reads my message.

“Where’s Max?” he asks casually.

“Urm…” I close my eyes as I try my best not to look at my door. My phone vibrates in my hand. I look to see a text from Logan.

‘Breathe, call max,’

I slowly let out a small breath.

“He’s in the living room. I gave him a treat,” I say as I try to keep my voice even.

“Let me see him,” he says. It’s then I understand what he’s telling me. I touch the flip icon, flipping the camera to my back camera. I move my phone to show him the man in my bedroom.

‘Call Max, Now’, he texts.

“Max,” I call. I can feel my voice break when I call him. I look at my bathroom door. I hear the man swear and then quick movement followed by barking as Max chases the man through my balcony doors.

“Lock yourself in the bathroom,“ Logan tells me. I nod and practically jump out of the bath, not caring if water gets everywhere or if Logan sees my body right now. I run to the door and slam it shut and lock it. Leaning against the door, I try to calm my breathing as fear tries to take hold of me. “Megan,” I hear Logan saying. I close my eyes. “I’ll call security,” he tells me. “Megan,” he says again. I lift my phone to me and flip the camera back around.

“Ok,” I say. I reach for my towel and wrap it around myself.

“I’ll be there in five minutes,” he tells me.

“No, Ella,” I tell him.

“I’ll get David to look after her,” he tells me. It’s then I notice he’s not in his bedroom anymore.

“It’s ok, I’m ok,” I say, and I know I don’t sound convincing. I can feel myself wanting to cry. I want out of this apartment. I want to get dressed and leave. But I can’t. The man could still be out there. He could have easily hurt Max and then come back to me.

“No, you’re not,” Logan says. I don’t say anything back. I sit against the bathroom door as I hear Max barking madly outside. All I can think is that I’m glad Ella is at Logan’s; I don’t know what I’d do if she were here right now. “I’ll call you back,” I hear Logan say, making me look at him.

“What?” I ask.

“I’ll call security, get them to come up to you,” he tells me. I nod. “It’s ok, you’re safe,” he adds. I smile a little and then end the call to let him call security. Pressing my back against the door now without Logan to keep my mind occu[ied I feel myself want to cry. I can’t cry; I need to be strong.

That man could be anyone, and if I hadn’t been on the phone with Logan he could have done anything. What I want to know is how he could have gotten into my apartment in the first place. The sole reason we picked this apartment was because of the security. After the break-in we had at our first apartment, security was vital. Now there’s a man in my apartment sniffing my underwear.

A bang sounds in my apartment, making me jump. I look around my bathroom for some sort of weapon, and the only viable one is the toilet -roll holder. My brain goes into overdrive. I’m going to die in my bathroom, in a towel with a toilet-roll holder as a weapon. I’ll be known as the woman who drinks wine in the bathtub and dies naked with a toilet-roll holder as a weapon. I cannot die in the bathroom.

I remove the toilet roll from the stick holder and then pick it up and hold it like a baseball bat. I don’t think anyone has died by a toilet paper holder to the face, but this guy will if he thinks of coming in here. Why does this happen every time I face situations like this? When Jonathan last tried to kill me, my mind couldn’t help but focus on another mirror in my bedroom being broken. It’s like my brain's defence mechanism is to think about stupid crap.

A firm knock sounds on the bathroom door. I frown. What killer knocks? Am I in a spoof of The Shining? Is he going to make a hole in the door and smile wickedly while telling me in the third person that he’s here?

“Miss Wright?” I hear a man say. I gulp and decide not to answer back. Maybe he’ll think I’ve left. My phone vibrates in my hand. I look to see it’s Logan. I swipe to answer.

“The security is on their way up,” he tells me.

“Someone is in my bedroom,” I whisper.

“Is it security?” he asks. I frown as it could be.

“Miss Wright, it’s Lionel,” he says. I sigh in relief and go to open the bathroom door.

“Wait,” I say loudly.

“Yes, Miss Wright?” he asks.

“Megan, what are you doing?” Logan asks.

“How can I be sure it’s him?” I ask.

“Ella always calls me Mr Lion,” he says through the door. “And then she tries to roar like a lion,” he says with a chuckle. I sigh in relief and open the bathroom door. Lionel stands in the doorway in his security uniform and a taser gun in his hand. “Are you ok, Miss Wright?” he asks, looking me up and down, not in a perverted way, just more to see if I’m hurt at all.

“Yes, thank you,”

“I’ve done a walkthrough. I can’t see anyone,” he says to me. “Is that Mr Peters on the phone?” he asks. My eyes widen; I’d forgotten I was on the phone.

“Yes,” I say and put the phone back to my ear. “Hi, sorry I kinda forgot you were on the phone,”

“It’s ok. Is Lionel there?” he asks.

“Yeah,”

“Ok, I’m nearly there,”

“Ok, I need to get dressed,” I tell him as I walk out of the bathroom. Max runs in from the balcony and then back out while growling. Lionel frowns at him. “He chased the guy

out there,” I tell him and walk to my coset. I stop as I look at the closed door. What if he didn’t run outside, and that’s why Max can’t find him? What if he’s in here?

“Do you want me to check in there?” Lionel asks. I nod in response.

“Everything ok?” Logan asks.

“Yeah,” I say into the phone as I watch Lionel check my walk-in closet with a torch. Max runs back in and sits at my feet, facing the balcony. I smile a little and stroke the top of his head. “Good boy,” I tell him.

“Thanks,” Logan says.

“Not you, Max,” I state. He chuckles, making me smile a little. “He’s the best guard dog a girl could ask for,” Lionel walks out and shakes his head.

“Get dressed. I’ll check outside,” he tells me and walks out to the balcony.

“I’m here,” Logan tells me. “I’ll be up in a minute,” he adds and puts the phone down. I nod and put my phone to the side as I walk into my closet.

I pull out a pair of leggings and one of Logan’s old t-shirts that I have kept since he left. I need to put underwear on, but the thought of going to my underwear draw makes me feel physically sick. After getting dressed, I walk out to see Logan sitting on my bed.

---**