The Write Off: An Enemies To Lovers Romantic Comedy (Love In 2C Book 3)

Chapter 25

Rilla

“Have you talked to your brother yet?” Logan asks as I fill a drink order for a couple sitting in a booth. It’s slow for a Friday, but I’m hoping it will pick up in the next hour when people are getting off work.

“I have.” I grab another glass and start filling it with beer. When I risk a glance up at where Logan sits at what I now consider his spot at the bar, he’s leveling me with a stare.

“I mean really talked to him, Rilla.”

I have had exactly four conversations with my brother since our blow up at Maggie’s two weeks ago. A fairly disastrous one three days after the incident where we both essentially held our ground and I walked away fuming. And three chance meetings in the lobby or hallway of the apartment where we exchanged a few words like regular neighbors.

“Crazy weather we’re having.”

“Work going well?”

You get the jist.

“Oh. Well in that case, no.”

His face softens. “You should talk to him.”

“It’s hard to have a conversation with someone when they have their head up their ass.” Grabbing a drink in each hand, I make my way to the booth to deliver them.

It’s not like I want things to be weird with Josh. I don’t. But I also know for once in my life, I’m not the one at fault. I miss the big idiot. And I miss Betty. It’s killed me to distance myself from her, but I don’t want her feeling like she’s some sort of Pine family mediator.

I’ve had to avoid my mother, too. From the voicemails I’ve gotten from her, she doesn’t know all the details but she knows that something is up with us. A mother’s instincts are no joke.

I think what really stings is that I’ve always had Josh’s back. I’ve always taken his side, without question, even when it wasn’t easy to do– because he’s my big brother and I would do anything for him.

Regardless of his uneasiness, he should have been more supportive of my decision to pursue a relationship with Logan.

If that’s what it is that Logan and I are in? Is he my boyfriend? That sounds weird. Never having dated anyone before, I’m not sure if you’re automatically in a relationship or if it has to be decided on more formally. Is it a verbal agreement or is there paperwork involved? I definitely don’t remember signing anything.

In any case, whatever label you put on us, I think it’s going very well. We text a lot and have seen each other every other day over the last couple of weeks. Our conversations can be as heated as our chemistry and I never get tired of hanging out with him. We laugh, we bicker, and we fuck like bunnies.

I’m living the dream.

After the drink delivery, I head back behind the bar where my maybe boyfriend is monitoring my approach. His mouth is set in a firm line. Is it weird that I can’t decide what I find more handsome? Smiling Logan or scowling Logan. They are both just perfection.

I give him my best “I know I’m a rascal, but what are you going to do?” look and he softens. This might be my favorite look on him. Like he can’t stay mad at me because he likes me too much. I’m not sure how I’ve come to deserve these looks. I keep going out of my way to show him the worst parts of me and he keeps coming back for more.

“Do you want to finish the movie this weekend?”

I love how he talks about the entire Lord Of The Rings saga like it’s one big movie and not three long-ass feature films. “I don’t know. Do you think you’re ready for it?”

“I’ve already invested seven hours waiting for Froyo to throw a ring into a pit. Yes, I’m ready.”

“His name is Frodo and you know it.” I swat his arm as he grins at me. He knows exactly how to rile me up and I’m going to think up a suitable punishment for that remark later.

“How is book two coming along?”

The topic change gives me whiplash. “Umm good,” I stammer.

Logan and I haven’t really talked about work since we started…this. We’ve talked about books; books we like and books we’re reading. But we haven’t talked about mine, really.

“Look, I know Bryce kind of put you on a tight timeline and I just wanted to make sure it’s going okay. If you need more time, you should ask for it. Or if you want to bounce ideas off me, I’m here.”

Logan makes me feel a lot of things. Some of them are amazing and some I’m not quite comfortable with yet. But I want to be. I want this to work, maybe more than I’ve wanted anything before. But in order to do that, I need to be honest with him.

“It’s finished, actually.”

He chuckles softly like I’m employing my classic evade with sarcasm technique. When I don’t join in, he sobers. “Are you being serious?”

I nod. I nod some more. He doesn’t say anything. I just keep nodding like a bobblehead on a dashboard.

“Book two is finished?”

“Well, it’s not ready to go to the printers yet.” I look around the bar to see if any loyal patrons need my assistance and am sad to see they don’t. “But yes. It’s finished.”

Logan lifts his glass and then puts it back down without taking a drink. I can see the wheels turning in his head, trying to make sense of what I’m saying. Suddenly that dawn of realization breaks on his handsome face and he leans forward on his stool, bracing himself on his forearms. “Rilla. How much of the series have you written?”

I stare back at him, swallowing the lump in my throat. Alright, Pine. Time to put up or shut up. “All of it.”

Silence. Neither of us speaks for so long that I wonder if one or both of us have forgotten how. We just hold uninterrupted eye contact like we’re trying to read one another’s mind.

He finally breaks first. “All of it?”

“Yes.”

“All six books in the series?”

“Yes.”

He takes off his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose before slipping them back on. He looks as though he’s about to say something, but stops himself. Finally, he picks up the beer glass and it actually makes it to his mouth this time. I watch his throat work as he drains the remaining beer in several large swallows.

“You’re telling me,” he says after he’s caught his breath, “you’re sitting on not one, but six completed full-length manuscripts?”

“That is what I’m saying, yes.”

“Who else knows about this?”

I look around our barren surroundings. “Everyone sitting at this bar.”

Logan leans back, seeming to forget he’s sitting on a barstool and not in a chair with a back. He manages to catch himself before falling off. “The entire series…”

I’m dying for him to say something more. Anything at all. He could yell at me for not telling him sooner or at the very least to tell me he’s disappointed that I kept this from him for so long. But he just continues to sit there in a stunned silence looking like he’s trying to do complicated math in his head.

I should have kept my mouth shut. I’m not the sharing-is-caring type. I should have just stayed the course and turned in the second manuscript when it was due. I start wiping the bar with a rag even though I haven’t spilled anything.

“Can I read them?”

The expression on his face is so earnest that I’m momentarily speechless. There is no edge in his tone, no judgment on his face.

“You’re not mad?”

“Why would I be mad, Kitten?” I know he started calling me that as a joke, but I’d be lying if I said I don’t melt every time he says it.

“Because I didn’t tell you earlier?”

He shrugs. “You weren’t ready to tell me before. But you’re telling me now and that means a lot to me. I can’t believe you’ve written them all. That’s incredible.”

Pride blooms in my chest at his praise. Logan gets it. He knows how much work goes into a book and he’s legitimately impressed. Confiding in him what I’ve been hiding for so long is more than freeing; it’s liberating. I feel lighter than I have in months.

A party of eight comes in from the cold, stomping the snow from their boots.

“You’re probably about to get busy, so I should go. I don’t want to distract you,” Logan says, eyeing the newcomers.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Pretty Boy.”

“You’re off at ten?”

“I am.”

“I’ll be waiting outside.”

“Okay, Stalker. I don’t need you to drive me home.” He’s picked me up from my last several shifts, and while I like it, I’m not used to being doted on.

“I thought I was your Pretty Boy. Now I’m your Stalker?”

“You’re both, my Pretty Boy Stalker.”

“I like making sure you get home safely. What if I throw in a complimentary turndown service?” If he keeps talking to me in the low decibel, I’m going to be begging him to bend me over the bartop.

“Fiiiine.” I relent, rolling my eyes. “You’re so needy.”

“You like it.”

God help me, I really do.