BELLA
When I got home, Logan wasn’t there. Instead, I found Dad sitting alone in the living room with a half-filled glass of wine resting in his hand. He didn’t look angry, just unsettled, as if his thoughts had been circling the same question for hours.
“Do you love him?” he asked me again, the same way he had asked several times before. “I don’t know this young man very well, but from what I’ve seen, he strikes me as responsible.”
“He is responsible,” I replied softly, a small edge of defense in my tone as I spoke up for Alex. “You don’t have to worry about anything. He’ll never give you a reason to.”
Dad swirled the wine in his glass before taking a slow sip. His eyes stayed fixed on me, unreadable. “You still haven’t answered the part that matters most—do you love him?”
I froze, c
