Olivia

To be honest, I had doubted Logan's cooking abilities when he had confidently claimed to show me what he had in his culinary repertoire. But as I observed him preparing the shrimp and crabs, I couldn't help but be mesmerized by his skillful movements and the way his muscles flexed. It was like watching a professional chef on a cooking show. His voice seemed distant as he shared cooking tips, but my attention was fixated on him.

"Make sure the shrimp is well cooked to enhance the flavor. Unless you prefer it half done," he advised, his words barely registering as I continued to stare.

"Pass me the salt," he requested again. Lost in my thoughts, I reached for the jar without focusing on his specific request. His voice snapped me back to reality.

"I didn't say pepper. Salt. Focus!" His tone was stern, and I quickly corrected my mistake, switching the jars. "Here. You're making it sound like you're a guest on a world cooking show."

As soon as the words slipped out of my mouth, I realized they were much louder than I intended. Logan paused, stirring the sauce, and turned his gaze towards me, a mixture of surprise and amusement evident in his eyes.

"Do you know I've received an award for the culinary skills I've acquired?" he proudly declared.

I couldn't help but roll my eyes at his statement. "That's nothing to brag about," I retorted, taking the jar of pepper and scooping out some ground pepper to add to the sauce. I continued for three spoonfuls and was about to go for a fourth when Logan suddenly grabbed my hand.

"Don't tell me you're going to ruin the shrimp sauce with too much pepper?" he exclaimed.

"Why not? Am I not the one who's going to eat it? Shouldn't I prepare the sauce according to my own preferences?" I replied, slightly defiant.

I noticed a flicker of something in Logan's eyes, but he quickly masked it with a smile. "Point of correction, it's the sauce I made. And why would you want to consume too much pepper? You don't want to harm the baby."

"I'm not going to harm the baby," I asserted, smiling back at him. We engaged in a silent standoff, exchanging intense gazes. Just because he was helping me with the cooking doesn't mean I have to follow his exact measurements for the ingredients.

"Which baby?" a voice suddenly interjected from the doorway.

My heart raced within my ribcage as Logan's stepmom observed us with a curious gaze. "Who is having a baby?" she repeated, her eyes lingering on both of us. I silently urged Logan to take the lead and explain.

"Well," Logan began, holding up one of the crabs, "we were referring to the baby crab." A mischievous grin played on his lips, and I struggled to stifle my laughter.

"Yes, the crabs," I chimed in, trying to maintain a composed expression. The woman approached the pot, her curiosity piqued. "What a delightful aroma. Logan, did you prepare this?" she inquired, reaching for a spoon to taste the sauce, as if she had the authority to do so. And who said I couldn't cook it?

I shot Logan a warning glare, silently conveying that he had better handle the situation well. Leaning against the counter, I crossed my arms and waited for his response. "Yes," he replied confidently.

"Wow, that's a surprise. When was the last time you stepped foot in the kitchen with the intention of cooking? Someone must have really made an impression on you," his stepmom remarked, a hint of teasing in her tone.

If I'm not mistaken, there seemed to be some hidden meaning behind her words. Just as the thought crossed my mind, Logan's phone began to ring. "I—" he started, but his stepmom interrupted him.

"Go ahead, Logan. Olivia and I will take care of this," she said, casting me an apologetic look, as if I had expressed anger towards him.

"So, Olivia, do you think you'll be able to eat this with so much pepper in it? I don't understand why Logan added so many ingredients when his doctor clearly advised against consuming them excessively," the woman began, extinguishing the flames on the stove.

Doctor? Is Logan unwell?

Before I could inquire further, she emptied the contents onto a plate. "No..."

"What's wrong?" she asked.

I managed to mumble. "I was planning to separate the shrimp from the crabs." Why did she have to intervene in what Logan and I were doing?

Her eyes darted back and forth, as if she wasn't quite sure of what I had just said. "Aren't they all going to the same stomach?"

"No. I want to eat them separately."

The woman noticed the shift in my demeanor. "I apologize for that. But it doesn't matter. Let me separate them for you." She grabbed a fresh plate and divided the shrimp and crabs. The sight made my stomach churn, and bile rose in my throat. I quickly made a dash out of the kitchen, rushing upstairs while covering my mouth with my hands.

"What—" Logan emerged from his room, noticing my distressed state. But I was already at the breaking point. I hurried into the bathroom and emptied the contents of my stomach, vomiting everything I had eaten throughout the day.

I felt a burning sensation in my stomach, as if it might burst at any moment. I sat in the bathroom for a while, collecting myself, before I heard a knock on the door. "Olivia, are you okay?" Logan's concerned voice reached my ears.

"Yes, don't worry, I'm fine," I reassured him. I washed my face and dried it with a towel, then made my way out of the bathroom.

"Oh my god!" My heart pounded in my chest. I hadn't expected him to be standing so close to the door. "You scared me," I said, walking towards my bed to sit down.

"Are you okay? I saw you rushing in here," Logan inquired, his eyes fixed on me.

I nodded in response. "Yeah, I threw up. It's normal for me," I explained.

Logan continued to stare at me, not saying a word. "Why are you looking at me like that?" I asked, tossing the towel aside.

"What about the shrimp and crabs?" he finally spoke up.

"I'm not going to eat them," I declared. After witnessing how his stepmother handled it, which resulted in me throwing up, I couldn't bear the thought of tasting it.

Logan's eyes widened slightly. "You can't be serious," he replied.

"Of course, I'm serious. I don't feel like eating it anymore. I'll just order from somewhere else tomorrow."

"You know you're getting on my nerves, right?" Logan's voice rang out, filled with frustration.

Confusion creased my brow. "For what?" I asked, genuinely perplexed.

"Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about!" His voice escalated, causing my body to tremble. He clenched his jaw and approached me. "Do you have any idea how I left my work to get you those shrimp? I even sacrificed the time I was supposed to spend on other tasks and rest before bed to help you cook. And now you're saying you won't eat it anymore?" He was clearly angry.

"Don't make it seem like you're being forced to do this," I retorted.

"Of course, you're forcing it on me. You're making it seem like all the burden should fall on my shoulders. I have a life outside of this, Olivia, for Christ's sake!"

His words struck a chord, and I ran my hands through my hair, struggling to hold back tears. I don't want to appear overly emotional in front of him, revealing the vulnerability of the situation that weighed heavily on me.

"This isn't how it's supposed to be done, Olivia," he continued, his tone firm.

"Then show me how it's done. Just be honest with me that you're not ready to take any responsibility for the baby. You don't have to pretend to be a nice person. We all know you're a player. That's why your fiancée left you at the altar," I shot back, my voice laced with bitterness.

"Enough!" The rage in his eyes was unlike anything I had ever seen before, not even when I played a prank call on him the other day . But at that moment, I couldn't care less. I would say whatever was on my mind.

"Why? Are you angry now? Because you know I'm right. You only care about your job and reputation Logan. Ask me. I don't want this either. I don't want to stay here for a second. I don't want this fake life that you and your family are living. I want to be in my own comfort zone, without anyone controlling me or meddling in my business."

"Stop using the baby as an excuse, Olivia. I shouldn't have brought you here if I knew it would become a problem for me," Logan exclaimed.

"Well, it's not too late to send me back. But remember, it won't change the fact that you're the father of this baby and also my husband," I countered, hitting a nerve. I could detect a hint of nervousness in his eyes. Perhaps he didn't fully comprehend the weight of hiding a secret from his own family. He took a sharp breath. "You know what, there's no point in arguing with you. I already have a headache," he muttered, turning to leave.

"Yes, call me a headache. Go to the radio station and announce to the world that Olivia Reed is a pain in the head!" I didn't care how loud my voice was.

Logan hissed and abruptly turned back, covering my mouth with his hands. "Lower your voice, unless you want to leave this house tonight," he seethed through gritted teeth.

"Or maybe you want the world to know about your little secret. Let me go and get out!" I spat, pushing him away. He seemed taken aback by my actions, but his surprise quickly transformed into his next words. "Don't forget this is my house. And you're going to eat the shrimp and crabs for breakfast tomorrow," he pointed out before walking away. Just as he was about to close the door, I retorted, "Then be prepared to face the consequences of answering your father's questions."