42. Perfect
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
perfect
LOGAN
BLACKBURN FALLS, ONTARIO
PRESENT DAY
“Have you ever seen her this nervous before?”
Sherri and I are watering the rose bushes that line the yard, trying our best not to meddle as we watch Abi pacing inside, circling the kitchen table as she gnaws on her fingernail like she’s going to take it right off.
“Not since she defended her dissertation,” Sherri replies, tutting in frustration when she notices the watering can is empty. “Logan, honey, can you fill this up for me?”
“Of course, leave it to me.”
I keep my eye on Abi as I walk to the shed to grab the hose.
Her makeup is minimal, with just a pop of bright red lipstick that stands out as she wrings her hands. My gaze drops to her long legs and perfect ass as she paces in front of the open screen door. Even when she’s a wreck, she’s beautiful.
God, my fake fiancée’s a fox.
I feel something splash against my ankle, and look down to discover I’ve overfilled the watering can. One of my leather shoes is drenched, but it’ll survive. The wet sock thing, though? That’s gonna be a real problem.
“Great job, genius.”
“Logan, honey?” Sherri calls. “I think you’re being summoned.”
I grimace, turning off the hose and shaking my foot out in time to see Abi frantically waving at me from the window, a pained expression on her face.
I head straight for the back door, my sock squishing with each step, water seeping out from between my toes. I don’t know what it is about the sensation, but the feeling of a wet sock is like the tenth circle of hell for me. I’d rather walk through broken glass.
As I open the door I find Abi shaking out her arms in a panic.
“Sorry, I just… I need someone here with me.” She winces. “Is that sad? Usually I can interview by myself, but I don’t know, today…”
“It’s not sad,” I chuckle, pulling out a chair for her. “Here, sit down.”
“No, I want to pace.”
My eyes land on the sweat clinging to her forehead, and I grab some paper towel to dab it up.
“Fuck, I’m so sweaty. Why am I so sweaty?”
“Probably has something to do with the polyester blouse, the fact that it’s like 90 degrees in here, and you stomping around like a horse on steroids.”
Abi halts mid-stride, transitioning into bouncing on the balls of her feet. She’s wearing black heeled boots that give her an extra inch, but make the entire process significantly more stressful to watch.
“Ooohhh…” she wrings her hands, her cheeks flushed. “There’s so much to be nervous about.”
I check my watch.
“Really, Abi, why don’t you sit down and I’ll get you a glass of water? Because your call’s starting in exactly two minutes, and I feel like you might want a bit of a cool down period after that marathon of pacing.”
“Oh my god!” She yelps, scrambling for her laptop before collapsing into her seat. “I wasn’t looking at the time! Why wasn’t I looking at the time?!”
I lean over her, giving her a little peck on the temple.
“That’s what I’m here for, Shortcake.”
I head to the cupboards, grabbing a glass and filling it up with some ice, but before I can pull out the jug of water, I hear Abi let out a small confused noise.
“What’s up?”
“I just… I’m logged on, but something’s wrong. The date for the interview is for yesterday.”
“That’s weird,” I reply, running the tap. “Some of these websites are really glitchy.”
She shoots up out of her seat, turning to me with a horrified expression.
“Oh my god, Logan! ”
I look down at the jug. Am I supposed to be using different water?
“What’d I do?”
Abi’s clutching her laptop, her eyes practically bugging out of her head.
“The interview was set for New Zealand time ! Not Eastern Time! I’m a day late!”
I watch her spiral begin, totally helpless to step in now that it's started. Surely missing a single interview isn’t the end of the world, but I can’t be flippant about this. What she’s feeling is entirely real, and the last thing I want to do is make her feel like she’s crazy.
She can fix this. It’s possible all it will take is an email, but that won’t matter if she can’t get to a place where she believes it.
I set the water down and walk toward her.
“Listen to me, okay, Shortcake? I want you to slow down, just listen to my voice for a minute, okay? Just breathe along with me.”
She starts to take deep, shuddering breaths, looking up at me like she’s waiting to hear something that’s going to fix everything all at once.
“Okay, great. You’re doing great. Now, once you’re feeling better again, I want you to send him an email. Just apologize for the mixup, and ask to reschedule. If you want to, you can even say you had some sort of family emergency. Don’t worry about details, just reach out and let them know you’re still interested.”
“Logan, he’s probably moved on to?—”
“Send him—” I pause, kissing her softly. “An email, Abi. That’s all you need to do.”
Abi’s problem is that she never wants to advocate for herself, even when it’s important. She’ll fight for other people until she’s blue in the face, but her own needs? Those get pushed to the wayside, especially if she thinks she’s responsible for whatever situation she’s in.
“You want this job, right? I mean, it’s something you really want right now?”
“Of course I do!”
I place my hand on her cheek. relishing the way she heats up under my palm.
“Then go get it. Everyone makes mistakes, and people reschedule all the damn time. Trust me, as someone who’s missed more than his fair share of appointments. It’s going to be okay.”
She nods, and I ease her back into her seat before grabbing an apple and fetching that water. As I settle down next to her, I can see she’s already gotten to work— typing and backspacing over and over again. I watch her the whole time, captivated by her intensity and focus, until she finally slumps back in her seat after about half an hour.
“I think that’s good. Can you look it over?”
She looks like she’s run a marathon.
“Sure. You eat and hydrate, I’ll edit.”
I grab her laptop, adjusting my glasses as I lean forward.
Dr. Paxton,
I sincerely apologize for missing the interview. To be completely honest, I didn’t realize the Zoom call was scheduled for New Zealand Time and not Eastern. I know you’re extremely busy, and I’m sure you have other candidates, but would you be open to rescheduling? I’d love the chance to sit down and talk about my goals for the position.
Warmest Regards,
Dr. Abigail King
Postdoc, Emerald Bay Sociology Department
“Is it too desperate?”
“No, I think it reads as confident. I’d be psyched to get an email like that, you sound like you’re already invested.”
“Can you send it for me?” She asks with a mouth full of apple. “I can’t bring myself to look at it anymore.”
I chuckle, scanning it one more time for any spelling mistakes, but when I go to hit send, she snatches up my wrist.
“Wait!”
Abi stares at me and I raise a brow, but she only shakes her head, smiling to herself.
“No, it’s okay,” she exhales. “Just do it.”
I smile back at her, and hit send.
“No take backs.”
“No take backs,” she whispers.
I close her laptop and scoot my chair toward her, resting my hands on her thighs.
“He’s going to email you back and say, ‘Abi, I’d love to reschedule with you. Because you’re fucking brilliant, and a real fox.’ I might even have to beat him up for that last bit, very unprofessional. ’ ”
She laughs, tears rolling down her cheeks.
“You’re such a bad liar.”
I stare at her for a moment, watching her face crumple as she sobs and I wrap her up in my arms. At first I thought they were happy tears, but it looks like she’s still wound up about the whole thing. It feels like we’re two steps forward and three steps back, as out of the corner of my eye I see Sherri striding toward the house in full mother-bear mode.
“What’s going on?” She asks, the back door creaking violently as she shoves it open.
“I messed up the time zone,” Abi sniffles. “He was in New Zealand, I think for research or something, but when I got the Zoom invitation I didn’t even check the date.”
She slams a fist into the table, starting to shake.
“God, all I had to do was check the date!”
Sherri walks over, carefully putting a hand on Abi’s shoulder as she sobs.
“Oh, baby, it’s not the end of the world. I’m sure you can reschedule!”
She flashes me a sad smile and I nod, passing Abi some tissues.
“Yep, and she’s already done it, so there’s nothing else to worry about.”
“Well, then!” Sherri puts her hands on her hips, her smile bright and genuine. “There you go! I’m sure he’ll get back to you, right? These things happen all the time!”
“He will,” I assure her, rubbing her back. “I promise you, he will.”