He tore the phone away, dropping it on the couch as he straightened his shirt and brushed his hair from his eyes. He looked at me, almost pulling a fast one when he told me it was no big deal.
"What's wrong?" I asked, dread burning my throat. "Who is it?"
"Delilah's assistant, Mackenzie." His nostrils flared. "She said it's about the baby."
I gripped his hand, squeezing it supportively. "I'm right here."
The elevator signaled that she'd arrived, the doors parting. The girl standing before us looked too young to be assisting anyone. She had a cherubic face that was only amplified by her exaggerated makeup, jet-black hair, halter top, leather pants, and sky high heels. When she saw Logan, she looked like she was going to vomit. Or run for cover.
"It's okay," I called out to her.
Her Bambi eyes flicked in my direction, then back to Logan. She took a worried step forward, debating going back downstairs or following through with what brought her to Logan's doorstep.
Her voice was high pitched and shook with her visible nervousness. "No one else knows I'm here. And if she knew I was here she'd-” Mackenzie made a slicing motion across her throat.
"Look," Logan advanced, his tolerance level officially tapped out. "You're going to tell me or-"
"Babe," I said softly, trying to calm him down before the poor girl passed out.
He looked at me, drawing a breath before he faced her. His demeanor changed, his voice becoming more accommodating. "You're safe here. Mackenzie, right?"
She nodded, her bottom lip quivering.
"Okay," he added a smile for good measure. "Just tell me what's on your mind."
She looked at me and I gave her a nod.
Her shoulders slumped. "You're going to be pissed. I told her nothing good would come from it, but she just loves you so much." She lifted her eyes to meet his and set fire to everything. "The baby's not yours, Logan."