When I stepped out of the car, I looked up and we were at Bouley Restaurant, one of the best French restaurants in New York. Logan tucked my hand into his arm and smiled as he took in my reaction. "Have you ever been here before?"
I shook my head. "No. Never."
He leaned close and said conspiratorially, "Neither have I."
We both laughed as we walked in together. "Well, I'm glad I have one of your firsts," I said without thinking. "Sorry. I shouldn't have said that."
He laughed. "Why not? If not anything else, we've always been able to talk."
Among other things, I thought to myself as I nodded. But I quickly pushed the thought aside.
"Don't ever hold anything back from me," he said in a low voice as we approached the ma?tre d.
Even the foyer was opulent, with fine furnishings for gues
