Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Olivia
In her heart, she held a secret wish,
a spell waiting to be broken by the one destined to find her.
~ Unknown
When I walk into my apartment after dinner with Lynette and Cassidy, I cautiously flick the light switch. The overhead light turns on, and I smile. Sometimes, it’s the small things.
And … wait a minute. The door didn’t creak. I swing it back and forth on its hinges. No squeak, squeal, or creaky noise. They even fixed my door!
Somehow, Steve decided to overhaul my apartment. He called me back mid-morning to say they were sending an electrician up to fix the issue as soon as possible. And then he surprised me by saying a plumber would also be coming, not only to fix the trickle and the water temperature issue, but to change out the hardware to match the ones in apartment 2B. Why would he mention Logan’s apartment specifically?
I’d love to imagine Logan calling the building superintendent on my behalf. But I’m dipping my feet in concrete and keeping them firmly anchored in reality. Dreaming of Logan as being everything the women at the reunion painted him to be is a perilous path.
Though, he was the first person I ran to when my lights went out.
Of course he was.
He’s my neighbor.
The only neighbor I know.
I don’t know what I thought he was going to do for me.
I certainly didn’t expect to find him dancing with Rhett, and then to cook me some of the best pasta I’ve ever eaten, and then to offer me a place to stay for the night.
All those things add up to something dangerously wonderful.
I know one thing to be true. At every turn, Logan has ripped a rug out from under me—literally throughout my whole life. I didn’t cook up our history—the way he would always match my pace, and then just when the critical moment came, he’d pull out ahead to declare himself the winner.
I’ve suffered greatly at his hand.
And yet …
The way he danced so unabashedly with Rhett.
Not to mention the way he danced with me.
I feel my face flush simply at the thought of him holding me so proficiently, swaying me, tugging me near, looking down into my eyes, twirling me away and drawing me back to himself.
I let out a barely recognizable sigh.
Am I really sighing over Logan Alexander?
I walk to my bathroom, and my jaw nearly drops when I pull back the shower curtain. I have a rain head—one of those broad, burnished brass ones with so many holes you can barely count them. And there’s an extension below. A handheld sprayer with various settings for massage or whatever they’re for. I don’t even know. I’ll have to google what to do with a shower wand with all those settings.
I turn on the shower, and the water comes on. And then I adjust the temperature. Hot water rains down so quickly, steam starts to fill the room.
Hot water! It feels like Christmas.
And the strangest sensation comes over me when I turn off the faucet.
I don’t want to call Megan.
I don’t think of texting Lynette.
I want to run through the lounge and knock on 2B so I can tell Logan.
Instead, I show some restraint. I send him a text.
OLIVIA
Guess what?!
LOGAN
I’m really bad at guessing games.
OLIVIA
Humor me.
LOGAN
You fell in love with Rhett, so you adopted a Boston terrier puppy.
OLIVIA
No, but that’s not a completely far-fetched idea. Unfortunately, I wouldn’t feel good about leaving a dog alone all those hours in my apartment. No offense. Rhett seems mostly unscarred. Back to your guesses. Try again.
LOGAN
FYI, I hire a dog walker who comes twice a day. She spoils Rhett, and the rest of the time, I’m pretty sure he sleeps.
OLIVIA
Well, until I can afford a dog walker, I will hold off on indulging my burgeoning Boston terrier obsession. Are you going to guess?
LOGAN
You can always borrow Rhett to get your terrier fix. I think he loves you more, after all. You’d be doing him a favor.
OLIVIA
I don’t know if I could pull off “the sprinkler” the way you do. My dance moves are more conventional.
LOGAN
I remember.
He remembers. Is that flirting? It feels like flirting. I put my hand to my chest. My heart is actually racing—over Logan.
OLIVIA
Since you aren’t going to guess, I’ll tell you.
LOGAN
If you’ll recall, I did guess. I asked if you got a puppy.
OLIVIA
Usually people get three guesses.
LOGAN
Okay, then. Guess #2: You won a trip.
OLIVIA
No, but that sounds amazing. I can’t remember the last time I actually took a vacation. I never want to leave Massachusetts in the fall or spring, but I’d happily evacuate in late July or early August.
LOGAN
Agreed. Summer here isn’t my favorite either. Okay. Guess #3: You found another fortune cookie.
OLIVIA
That’s a good guess, considering the way those things have been appearing out of nowhere. But, no. My apartment is fixed. And not just the electricity. They lubricated the door. I might actually miss that squeak. And they even replaced the shower head and made my shower as good as yours—maybe even better.
LOGAN
That’s great news.
OLIVIA
I just wanted you to know since you were around the night everything blew.
LOGAN
Thanks for telling me. You deserve the best.
I deserve the best? Is that something he’d say to anyone, or just me?
OLIVIA
Thanks.
I have the strongest urge to keep the conversation going, but there’s really no need now that I’ve told Logan about the repairs. I’m about to set my phone down when it pings with another text notification. I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face.
LOGAN
What are you doing?
OLIVIA
I just got back from dinner with Lynette and Cassidy.
LOGAN
So, you’re getting ready for bed?
OLIVIA
At seven thirty? I’m not eighty. I’m probably going to change into sweats and find something to watch. What are you doing?
LOGAN
Already in sweats. Scrolling social media mindlessly.
OLIVIA
What is Rhett doing?
LOGAN
Standing at the doorway looking in the direction of your apartment.
OLIVIA
Are you kidding me? Making that up?
LOGAN
When it comes to Rhett, I’m dead serious. He’s pining away for you.
OLIVIA
Or he just wants to go on a walk.
LOGAN
You may be right.
OLIVIA
I now have that in writing. Logan Alexander said I may be right.
LOGAN
Why don’t you come over here and test your theory?
OLIVIA
The theory as to whether I’m right?
LOGAN
Whether Rhett wants a walk. Change into sweats and come over here. You can take him on a walk if you want. Or, you don’t have to. I’m not trying to finagle you into walking my dog.
OLIVIA
I’d love to take Rhett on a walk.
LOGAN
See you in a few, then.
I set my phone down and change into sweats. I’m aware my smile feels an awful lot like the ones I’d get when I was crushing on a boy in high school. Or the feeling I’d have in college when a guy I liked asked me out.
Calm down, Olivia. You’re just taking a dog on a walk .
Logan Alexander’s dog.
Of all the things. I’d have never thought walking Logan Alexander’s dog would put a giddy smile on my face.
Once I’ve changed into something much more comfortable—and yes, put on lip gloss and brushed my hair—I walk over to Logan’s apartment and knock.
He opens the door looking relaxed and ruffled. He’s wearing a grey T-shirt and black sweats. His feet are bare. Why is that so sexy?
I look up from Logan’s feet and meet his smirky smile and those eyes that have always had a direct shot to my heart.
Whaaat?
I mean, my … nothing. Logan Alexander doesn’t have a straight shot to my anything.
I look down at Rhett. Logan’s dog’s eyes, bugged out and soft with affection, definitely have a straight shot to my heart.
“Ready?” Logan asks.
“For?” I make the mistake of making eye contact again.
Why is he so gorgeous? It’s superhuman how attractive he is. And in this casually disheveled homebody state, everything is somehow amplified.
“Walking Rhett?” Logan says with a soft smile.
“Yes. Of course. I’m here to walk Rhett. Let’s do it.”
“I’ll get his leash,” Logan says.
Logan slips on a pair of shoes, clips Rhett to his leash and hands it over to me. Rhett trots out the door, straight for the elevators. I follow behind him, and Logan catches up with me as soon as he’s shut his apartment door.
We ride down the elevator in silence. It’s oddly comfortable. Logan still looks casual and relaxed, like he may have even fallen asleep on his couch after work and just woke up to eat dinner. His hair is mussed, his eyes just the slightest bit droopy, making him appear approachable and far more harmless than he does in the light of day.
Logan Alexander is officially the most confusing man I’ve ever met.
He opens the main door, and Rhett darts through it, aiming to the left as if he knows the way.
“He likes to go through the park a few blocks over. If I’m feeling up for it, I oblige him. Otherwise, we use the pocket park next to the building.”
“The one you can see from your side windows.”
“Mm-hmm.”
I wait for the sting of jealousy to pierce through me, the thoughts of how he lives in what should rightfully be my apartment, looking out at my view. It doesn’t come.
“Rhett thinks he’s the guardian of all he surveys,” Logan says as we amble behind Rhett, who is taking advantage of our lack of direction and pulling us toward the large park where Logan caused a pileup on that run a while back.
“What does he do?” I ask.
“He watches that park like a hawk, barking when other dogs enter or whimpering if he sees someone he knows or would like to meet. There’s this one poodle I think he’s got a thing for …” Logan looks over at me with a boyish expression I remember from elementary school.
“A poodle, huh, Rhett?”
Rhett looks back at me with a very winsome smile.
“If I were that poodle, I’d be done for.”
Logan laughs. It’s soft and deep and comforting.
I don’t question the way he’s making me feel. Obviously I’m still riding some sort of chemical response to him being a safe place for me when my apartment revolted. My brain is probably dumping adrenaline, dopamine, and oxytocin. The initial adrenaline boost would be gone by now, but those other two could rise again. I learned all about this in our consumer psychology course and in neuroscience and behavior for business.
Yes. That’s all this is.
Logan is triggering a hero complex.
It will pass.
All the next day at work, I keep picturing ruffled, casual Logan with his disheveled hair, bedroom eyes and soft, end-of-the-day voice. That’s not the Logan I’m working with on the Untethered project. No. At work, he’s buttoned-up, get-down-to-business Logan.
Something keeps nagging at me. And the more I learn about Logan—this new, mysterious, unexpectedly thoughtful side of him—the more I wonder why he went with Gil to pay Lynette’s rent. She isn’t the least bit interested in following up. I brought it up on a phone call with her last night, and she said, “If they wanted me to know, they would tell me.”
I’m not Lynette. She’s always been happy-go-lucky and roll-with-it. I’m more the type who doesn’t rest without all the pieces making sense. Especially where Logan Alexander is concerned.
So, after work, I take a drive to my old neighborhood. I dug a little and found out where Gil and his wife, Maisy, are living. I pull up in front of their traditional Cape Cod-style home—white clapboard siding with black shutters and a dark red door. I park on the street and take the walkway to the front steps.
I ring the doorbell and then wonder if I should have knocked.
Why am I so nervous? I’m just here to get to the bottom of this gift to my sister. And most of all, even though I won’t admit it out loud to anyone, I need to resolve what Logan’s role was in all of it. Was he a ride-along? Or something more?
“Olivia!” Maisy smiles when she opens the door as if we’re old friends and I called in advance to say I was dropping by.
“Hi. Um, I’m sorry I didn’t call first. Or ask if I could come over … I just … I need to talk to Gil about something. Is he home?”
“He is. Is everything okay?”
“Yes. Yeah. It’s fine. There’s just this thing …” I step in when Maisy pops the door open wider.
“My sister is a single mom.”
“I know.”
“Yeah. Of course. Well, it seems like a bunch of parents chipped in to pay her rent.”
“That’s awesome!”
We’re in their entry, which is actually the start of a long, wide hallway running from the front door toward the back of the house. Stairs ascend along one side and the front room off to our right. Gil comes through from the end of the hall.
“Who’s here?” he asks. And then he sees me. “Well, hi, Olivia. What’s up?”
“Come on in,” Maisy says.
“Okay. Thank you.” I step farther into the house, and she shuts the door behind me.
Gil turns around and walks toward the rear of the house.
“I was just dishing up some ice cream. Want some?” he offers.
“I never say no to ice cream.”
Maisy and I follow him into the kitchen.
Gil grabs a third bowl and spoons two generous scoops of ice cream into the bowl. “I hope you like pecan praline.”
“I’m not a heathen,” I joke.
He laughs.
Maisy grabs one of the already filled bowls and hops onto one of the stools at the island. Gil stands across the island from us. I take a seat next to Maisy. Gil hands me a spoon and my bowl.
I don’t eat, though. I’m here on a mission. Answers first, ice cream second.
“So,” Maisy says. “Olivia was telling me how the parents of Lynette’s students pitched in and paid for her rent.”
Gil’s head snaps up, and his eyes meet mine.
“The parents?” he asks.
“I figured. Well, Lynette figured it was the parents—through some sort of crowdfunding campaign. We called her landlord. He described two men dropping off the money. It had to be you and Logan … unless it wasn’t.” I second-guess myself for the first time since Lynette and I landed on that conclusion together.
“It was. Logan and me.”
“What?” Maisy says. “You dropped off money to pay Lynette’s rent?”
“Three months-worth,” I tell her.
“Three months!” She shakes her head and licks another bite from her spoon. “That’s a big sum of money.” Maisy turns to Gil. “How did you get looped into this? And why didn’t I hear anything about it before now?”
Maisy’s face is alight with curiosity and playfulness as she teases Gil.
“Who told you it was the parents?” Gil asks me.
“No one. We just figured it had to be. After the conversation you overheard between Lynette and me at The Serendipity, it’s the only solution that makes sense. Since Sam is in her class, we guessed that you talked to Bethany and she rallied the parents. Then she gave you the money and you dropped it off for her.”
“What conversation?” Maisy asks.
“Lynette was complaining to Olivia about her ex when Logan and I overheard them, right after he moved in,” Gil tells Maisy. “Rightfully complaining. It sounds like her ex isn’t pulling his weight as a coparent. Lynette’s a great teacher. And she’s Olivia’s sister. Logan got to thinking …”
“Logan got to thinking?” I ask. “ Logan ?”
Gil looks back at me and nods.
“Bethany doesn’t have a clue about this,” Gil says. “None of the parents do.” He pauses. Then his face takes on a resolved expression. “Logan’s going to kill me. But I don’t see why you shouldn’t know. I think you should know, as a matter of fact.”
“That Logan. He’s such a sweetheart,” Maisy says with the softest smile on her face.
“But why?” I ask.
I look down at my ice cream bowl, where the pecan praline is melting around the edges.
“Why do you think Logan would single-handedly pay your sister’s rent?” Gil asks, voicing the facts plainly.
There’s no question. Logan paid Lynette’s rent for three whole months. And he did it in secret, without any accolades or attempt to gain credit. As a matter of fact, he kept all his actions purposely hidden, even going so far as to have Gil hand over the cash.
“Yes. Why?” I ask.
“Have you ever considered that maybe he’s trying to impress you?” Gil says.
Maisy looks nearly swoony. “Awww. Logan wants to impress you.”
“How exactly will he impress me if he remains anonymous?”
“There’s not a lot of method to his madness,” Gil says. “Especially not where you’re concerned. He loses all sense of couth and reason when it comes to you. He’s so concerned his actions will be misinterpreted. And your history makes you rightfully suspicious. But a lot of time has passed since high school. He’s not exactly in the habit of sabotaging lockers these days.”
“He … what?” I’m stunned. “He’s trying to impress me?”
I feel like I need to sit down, but I’m already seated. Everything wobbles.
“Logan paid my sister’s rent.”
Maisy giggles.
I glance over at her. “He’s … not … I mean … he is … he’s never … we always …”
“He’s got it bad for you,” Maisy says simply.
“For me?”
Gil nods his head once and shrugs. “It’s so obvious.”
“It is?”
Maisy laughs again. “The two of you … from what Gil has told me, you’ve been dancing around your attraction to each other for years.”
“I didn’t know.” The truth of my oblivion spills out like an inevitable confession.
“Well, now you do,” Maisy says, nearly buzzing with excitement.
“I think … I need to go.”
“Are you okay to drive?” Maisy asks, getting up from her stool when I stand.
“Yeah. I am. I just … need to go.”
“We’ll take a rain check on the ice cream,” Gil says with a chuckle.
“Thanks. Oh, yeah. Sorry.”
“No worries. You’ve obviously got more important things to tend to.”
“I do,” I tell them.
“Don’t worry,” Maisy says. “Gil will happily eat your ice cream. Go talk to Logan.” She smiles. “That’s what you’re planning to do, right?”
“Yeah. It is. I have to talk to Logan.”
Maisy and Gil stand in the doorway of their home, obviously watching to make sure I’m stable enough to drive back to The Serendipity. As off-kilter as I feel, nothing would keep me from finding Logan right now.
I need to see him.