Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Olivia
Mister Rogers did not adequately prepare me
for the people in my neighborhood.
~ Unknown
I stare at Logan.
He stares back at me.
How? How did we both end up living at The Serendipity?
Granted, it is one of the most desirable buildings in this area of town. And there’s the lore regarding the supposed luck that befalls people who live here. That’s nonsense, obviously. We’re also relatively close to the Barnes offices. Of course Logan would want to live here.
And we both just moved in last week.
And, the apartment I wanted … the apartment I was meant to have, as if it had been bequeathed to me by my gran … nooooo.
“Which apartment do you live in?” I ask Logan.
Half of me knows already. The other half is hoping and praying I’m wrong. Maybe just this once Logan Alexander won’t be the dream-crushing, glory-hogging, overbearing limelight-stealer he’s always been. Maybe just this once someone else will have ended up with a perk, benefit, and blessing that was meant to be mine. Because I will be able to forgive a stranger if they inadvertently ended up in Gran’s place. But if it’s Logan? I can’t even go there.
“2B.” The address slips out of his mouth so effortlessly. He moves to switch the foot resting on the step so he’s stretching his left calf now. His demeanor is calm and reserved, as if he didn’t just pull the cord on his own guillotine.
“What about you?” he asks, so nonchalantly, without even deigning to glance my way.
I pull my ankle up to my rear to stretch my quads, but mostly because it’s impossible to strangle someone with one hand, especially while trying to balance on one leg.
“2O.” I attempt to make my voice as neutral as Logan’s.
He turns toward me, and his eyes catch mine and hold me, pinned in his gaze like a butterfly to a cork board display. I study his face. There’s an intensity in the grey-blue of his eyes today, making his features appear like a rugged and refined landscape with two storm clouds looming beneath his brow.
Then he smiles at me. A rare smile, like the sun breaking through. And I have no SPF. Why does he have to look like that? It would be so much easier if looks reflected character. Then Logan would be a slimy ogre with moles the size of prunes and bug eyes, with five coarse, rogue hairs coming out of his head. Instead, he’s deceptively attractive.
“We’re neighbors,” he says, as if that’s good news.
“So it seems,” I say.
I shift so I’m stretching my other quad, and Logan mirrors my stance, pulling his leg up behind him.
“I knew someone had moved in,” he admits. “I heard the guys wrestling with the bed in the stairwell.”
I regret my next words before they’ve even fully exited my mouth. “My gran lived in 2B. I visited her here every Sunday. I applied for that apartment. 2B.”
“She did? You did?” He switches legs.
I tip upside down, touching my toes. I can only look at Logan so long. The incongruity between his handsome face and his callous heart might do me in.
“She did. And … I did,” I answer him from my inverted position.
“But … I got to it first,” he acknowledges.
“As always,” I mutter in a near whisper to myself. Then I straighten and look Logan in the eyes one last time. “Well … see you around.”
I have to get out of here. Literal tears are pressing at the backs of my eyes. A flood of memories rushes at me—all the times I nearly got an award, or a position, or that apartment. Each time, Logan was there to snatch the prize away from me without any recourse on my part or remorse on his.
I jog up the steps and take the elevator instead of the spiral staircase. I need to put some distance between me and Logan Alexander. Ha! What a joke. We work for the same marketing firm, and now we’re only separated by a few thin walls the remaining hours of the week.
When I reach my apartment, I stick the key in the lock and turn it. The door doesn’t open. I jiggle the key, twist the knob, and feel it stick. One more jiggle and the door pops open with a long squeak from the hinges. Of course 2O has low water pressure, handles that pop off the cupboards, and a funky front door. 2B probably has none of these issues. I mean, I have no idea what Logan’s shower is like … and now I’m picturing Logan and showers—okay, no.
I don’t know what the water pressure in Logan’s apartment is like in the bathroom. I never showered there when Gran was the rightful tenant. She never mentioned anything being amiss. And, because of how things always shake out where Logan Alexander is involved, I’m sure he probably has two rain showerheads. No. Probably four, with water massage options and a bench seat, and a jacuzzi jet tub … while I have a barely warm trickle.
“Lucky! Lady Luck!” the parrot next door squawks.
“Ha!” I say to no one.
“Ha!” the parrot squawks. “Ha. Ha. Ha!”
I grab my phone to text Megan. But then I change my mind and press dial. Some news is too monumental to share in a text message.
“Hey, what’s up?” Megan answers.
“Well, you know 2B? The apartment?”
“Of course. Gran’s place.”
“Yep. Well, you told me to tell you when I find out who’s living there.”
“Did you meet your new neighbor? Oooh, do tell. What are they like? Is it a man or a woman? A family? Do you like them?”
“No.”
“No, it’s not a man or woman or family? Or no you don’t like them?”
“Both. It’s an ogre. And I do not like him.”
“You do realize you’re not making sense, right?”
I sigh. “It’s Logan, Megan. Logan freaking Alexander is my new neighbor.”
Instead of commiserating or offering comfort, Megan laughs. And laughs.
I stand in my living room, still wearing the outfit I’d been wearing when that menace started chasing me through town on my morning run, changing his pace every minute or so as if it would throw me off, and then going full steam to prove he could outrun me, and finally crashing into those doodles so we literally ended up in a dog pile right in the middle of the park.
Megan’s still laughing.
“Tell me you don’t really find this funny,” I implore her.
“I don’t.” More laughter. “Really, I don’t. I’m sorry …” She clears her throat. “It’s just … what are the odds?”
“Right?” I shake my head. “He’s already at my job, and now this.”
“Crazy!” the parrot next door squawks. “Crazy times!”
“Is that the parrot?” Megan asks.
“Yeah. He’s odd.”
“Or she.”
“Right, or she.”
“Logan is living in Gran’s place.” Megan’s voice is somber. “I can’t believe it.”
“I know. What is my life?”
“I’m sorry, Liv. And I’m sorry I laughed. I think it was the shock of it all.”
“It’s okay. Trust me. I nearly burst into tears downstairs a few minutes ago when it all fully hit me.”
“Awww, I’m sorry. Don’t let him get to you. Maybe you’ll barely see him. Think about it. You’ve lived there the better part of a week, and you’re just now seeing him. You probably won’t see him that much. Right?”
“Yeah. Right.” One can only hope . “Anyway, I’d better go shower. Lynette’s coming over this afternoon to hang out. She wanted to take a polar plunge in the pool.”
“Don’t polar plunges happen in January?”
“I told her that. Also, there’s the minor detail that the pool won’t have water until after Memorial Day. She said she’s on a health kick. Her revised plan has something to do with needing a certain number of hours outdoors to get her vitamin D levels up. All I know is that she’s planning on wearing a swimsuit even though the pool is dry.”
“Well, enjoy your time with your sister. And don’t worry about Logan.”
“Who?” I tease.
“Right. No one. Don’t worry about no one. Or … anyone. Just don’t worry. M’kay?”
“I won’t. It’s erased. Deleted. I have an anonymous neighbor who shall not be named.”
“Good. Enjoy the rest of your weekend. Do you still want to meet Tuesday for lunch?”
“I wouldn’t miss it.”
“Great. See you then.”
I hang up with Megan and shower in my sad trickle of a shower, forcing my mind not to wonder about what the water pressure in any other apartment on this floor is like. I’ll just talk to the building manager—Steve, I think?—about my water this week. I change into a comfortable outfit and grab my Kindle so I can read on a lounge chair until Lynette gets here.
The courtyard of The Serendipity is at the center of the back of the building. Stone archways surround a rectangular pool and the fountain. Loungers and chairs are out during the warmer months. Even though the pool doesn’t officially open until June, tenants are allowed to use this space to relax or gather with friends whenever they like.
Lynette calls me from her cell when she arrives. I let her in the front door, and we walk through to the courtyard.
She’s quiet, which is unusual for my sister.
“What’s wrong?” I ask her once we’re seated on two adjacent lounge chairs.
“Why do you think something’s wrong?”
“You haven’t said a word.”
“I don’t always talk.”
I look at her with an eyebrow cocked.
“Okay. I like to talk. And, yes, there’s something wrong. It’s Mark. He called this weekend and said he’s considering renegotiating our custody arrangements.”
Mark is my sister’s ex-husband. Her daughter, Cassidy, only sees him every other weekend, based on the fact that the demise of my sister’s marriage was entirely Mark’s doing. He doesn’t really ever want custody, but he regularly tosses out the option of taking Lynette back to court in an attempt to remind everyone he could make things difficult if he really wanted to. Even though we know he’s bluffing, there’s always this possibility that one day he’ll actually mean it.
“He’s got me over a barrel. I still have student loans, and he doesn’t report the majority of his income, so his child support payments barely cover a quarter of our actual expenses. If I want to work, I have to pay for childcare after school until my day ends. Childcare costs money, even if I use the after-care option at Cassidy’s school.”
I’m about to answer my sister when two men enter the courtyard.
So much for Megan’s positive thinking. Not only does it look like I’ll see Logan around the complex, it turns out sometimes I’ll even see him twice in one day.
Logan’s walking toward us with a man I instantly recognize—Gil, Logan’s best friend since elementary school. And Logan’s walking an adorable dog.
If I didn’t know Logan and what he’s really like, the whole scene would be appealing—two good looking men with a Boston terrier, walking in a stone courtyard near a pool, laughing and smiling at one another. It’s the kind of image that could sell any product you want to market.
Only, I’m not buying.
“Lynette?” Gil says. “Hey.” Then he looks at me and smiles warmly.
Lynette bends over and reaches for the dog, who stretches to the end of his leash to accommodate her. She starts scratching him behind the ears, and his entire backside wiggles in appreciation.
“Aren’t you a cutie pie?” Lynette coos to the dog.
Gil looks at me. “Olivia! Wow. It’s been a while. You look great. Logan was just telling me you two are neighbors. What are the odds?”
“You’re what?” Lynette asks, looking up from the dog and glancing between Logan and me.
“Neighbors,” I supply, staring at Logan since he’s staring at me. “Logan moved into Gran’s old apartment.”
“What?” Lynette looks at Logan. “You’re in 2B?”
“I am.”
Logan’s tone is austere and distant, as if he knows he won yet another contest—and this time without even exerting himself.
Lynette gives me a wide-eyed look. I keep my face neutral.
“So,” Gil says to Lynette, “Bethany told me you’re Sam’s teacher this year.”
Bethany is Gil’s sister, so Sam must be Gil’s nephew.
Lynette lights up. “I love Sam. He’s such a sweetheart.”
Gil smiles warmly. “I’m biased, but yeah. He’s a good kid. Bethany says you’re amazing.”
Lynette blushes. “I don’t know if I’m amazing. I just love my job. And the kids. Tell Bethany thanks. I needed that vote of confidence today.”
“Well, if you ever need anything …” Gil drifts off.
He and Logan exchange a look. How much of our conversation did they overhear? The acoustics in here are pretty phenomenal. I bet they caught a good chunk of what Lynette was telling me about Mark.
Logan looks as impassive as the stone walls surrounding us. Is he actually judging my sister? I don’t want to think the worst of him. He’s just so hard to read.
“I mean,” Gil says, obviously backpedaling. “If you ever need anything in your classroom or … whatever … just let Bethany know. I’m sure teachers don’t get the support they deserve for all they do. So, as Sam’s uncle, just know Maisy and I are here for you if you ever need anything.”
“Thank you.” Lynette tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and looks down at the dog.
“Rhett,” Logan blurts.
“What?” Lynette asks.
“His name is Rhett, like in Gone With the Wind ?” Logan’s voice is clipped, as if repeating his dog’s name was some sort of hardship for him.
“Well, Rhett,” Lynette coos to the dog, “it’s nice to officially meet you.”
Rhett strains at the leash to get to my sister. She rewards him with more pets and scratches all over.
“We’d better get going,” Gil says. “Maisy wants me home so we can cook dinner together.”
“That’s so cute!” Lynette exclaims.
Gil smiles, and Logan does his best impersonation of a Sphinx.
The guys leave, and once she’s sure they’re out of earshot, Lynette whispers, “What is he doing here?”
I smile over at her. “You didn’t seem so upset when you were practically swooning over his dog.”
“The dog is adorable,” Lynette says. “It’s not Rhett’s fault he has an objectionable owner.”
Lynette studies me for a minute and then she says, “The tension between you two is still so thick, you could cut it with a knife.”
“Rivalry.”
“Well, I still think there’s something there. I always did.”
“He’s an ogre,” I remind her. “A heartless, self-driven ogre.”
“And you’re not neutral where he’s concerned. You never have been.”