Logan ate quietly, seeming to think over what I had just told him, which included my own family’s small traditions. “And so you need to return to your parents’ house, although you were just there last night.” His tone wasn’t even close to accusatory, but I still felt a pang of guilt ripple through me.
“Unfortunately, yes. That’s how we’ve always done it, although Christmas Day is an earlier get-together. We usually sit down for dinner at around three.” I picked up the last morsel of my croissant from the plate and ate it, wishing I’d had the brains to get some bacon or at least a half carton of eggs when I’d stopped at the store. My body was craving something a little more substantial than the carbs I’d just consumed.
Logan nodded, not looking at me, but gazing into the fire. It definite
