More Than A Favor

Chapter 2

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The soft rustle of paper caught Logan‘ attention. He looked up, his dark eyes locking onto mine. I didn’t need a mirror to know how grim my expression was.

“You look pale,” he said, frowning slightly. “Are you feeling unwell?”

Without answering, I walked over to his desk, my fingers tightening around the marriage license application in my hand. Swallowing the bitterness in my throat, I finally spoke. “If you don’t want to marry me, I can tell your mom myself.”

His frown deepened. He knew I’d overheard everything.

My voice cracked as I continued, “I never thought I’d end up being a burden

to you, Logan-”

“Elaine,” he cut in, his tone calm but firm. “To everyone else, we’re already like a married couple.”

I froze. Was that why? Because it looked right to everyone else?

I wanted him to marry me because he loved me, not because it was

convenient.

Logan capped the pen in his hand with a quiet click, his gaze dropping to the crumpled application form I was holding. “We’ll register next Wednesday,” he said, the words flat, emotionless.

It was what I thought I wanted to hear. But instead of relief, I felt a heavy ache deep in my chest.

I shook my head slightly, my voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t have to force yourself. I’m not some charity case.”

“Elaine Hart.” His voice turned sharp.

I flinched and looked up, meeting his impatient gaze.

his hand.

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air between us grew tense, heavy.

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=Meri

softly, his

just a joke?

he added, his tone

firm yet strangely comforting. Slowly, he pried the document from my grasp. “Don’t let something like this get to you,” he said, his

tucked the application form into a desk drawer. Then, grabbing his coat, he added, “I need to step out for a

been doing that a lot lately–leaving without explanation, staying out longer

I spoke, my voice cutting through the silence. “Logan.”

He stopped.

like me?” I asked, my words trembling slightly but firm enough to demand an

actually answer. Then, a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips, softening his features. A dimple appeared

at the Mercer estate, a scared girl of fourteen, and he had ruffled my hair and called me “kid.” That smile had felt like sunlight breaking

I didn’t

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< Chapter 2

still had the power

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his large hand resting lightly on my head, his fingers ruffling my hair

city to get you roasted pears when

his hand sliding from my head to my cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against my skin. “And why else,” he added, “would I want

should’ve comforted me. They should’ve been

But they weren’t.

go this time. “Do you