Logan gets three plates out, serving up what looks like fluffy, perfect scrambled eggs. Fuck him for that. I glance around. Three plates? Who the hell else is here? Logan just calmly slides me a plate. “Eat.” I stare at him as he slides Buffalo his own plate. “What the fuck?” Logan starts eating. “I made him one. You have a problem with that?” “No, I…” I frown. ‘If you don’t marry this man, then I will.’ Buffalo sounds awfully pleased.
