ended up on Broadway and got a cheap ticket to see the last half of a musical she’d only ever seen on film.
She bought herself a hamburger, headed back on the subway to Ben’s apartment—and was weirdly disappointed when he wasn’t home.
She’d sort of wanted him to be impressed that she hadn’t hung around all day waiting for him, but maybe she’d done too much trying to prove it. Her feet hurt.
She ran a bath and soaked, all the time waiting for his key in the lock.
‘Just like I’m the little woman,’ she told herself. ‘Waiting for my man to come home.’
She let herself imagine it, just for a moment. If she and Ben were to take this further...
This’d be her life.
‘Um, no,’ she said, reaching out for a gorgeous-looking bottle of bath salts. Sprinkling it in. Lying back to soak some more. ‘You know you never want to commit to some guy who’ll turn out to be just like Dad. This is fantasy and nothing more.’
* * *
It was after ten when Ben reached home and he was feeling guilty.
This was what it’d be like if he ever tried marriage, he told himself. This was why Jake’s marriage had foundered. The Logan boys’ lives didn’t centre round women. But still, the thoughts of the night before were with him. The memory of Mary in his bed was enough to make him turn the key with eagerness.
‘Mary?’
No answer.
Her purse was on the counter. Her jacket was hanging on the chair. It felt good to see them. He liked it that Mary was in his apartment.
He checked his bedroom, half-hopeful that she’d be lying there as she’d lain last night.
‘In your dreams,’ he muttered. ‘To have a woman wait for you...’
He checked her bedroom. She was curled in the centre of her bed, cocooned in pillows. She looked exhausted. She looked small and vulnerable and alone.
She looked...like Mary.
This woman was planning on returning to New Zealand to bear his child. With no support.
He didn’t wake her. He headed to his study to think, and think he did. The idea that had been idling in the back of his mind all day was starting to coalesce into a plan.
It made sense—and Mary was a sensible woman.
He wasn’t entirely sure how Heinz would fit in with the pedigree pooches who strutted round Central Park but he was pretty sure Heinz could hold his own.
Could Mary hold her own?
He was sure she could. In her own way she was as independent as he was.
He flicked open his laptop. There was work to be done, though not business. The financial world could manage without him tonight. Tonight Ben Logan was plotting a future for his child.
And his woman?
Be sensible, he told himself. There are levels of responsibility. You can take the practical route; just don’t let the emotional side interfere.
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