Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Olivia
A little friendly competition never hurt anyone.
~ Chris Johnston
“I’ll be right back,” I say to Logan. “Wait here?”
He nods with a soft smile.
I escort my sister to the elevator. Cassidy runs ahead of us shouting, “I get to hit the button!”
“I hope you aren’t blindly falling under the charms of Logan Alexander,” Lynette says. “What he did for me was so over-the-top awesome.” She smiles at me. “I’m truly grateful to him. I just want you to remember all the ways he one-upped you over the years. Stay strong, Olivia.”
I put my hand on Lynette’s arm, intending to defend Logan, but instead I simply say, “I remember. Don’t worry.”
“Good.” She leans in and hugs me. Then she pulls back and looks me in the eye. “It is incredible. Trust me, I think of it every day—what he did. I just don’t believe one good deed means he’s incapable of sabotaging you.”
“I hear you, Lynette.”
“Okay. And you’re still interested in dating him?”
“I am.” I smile at her. “I really am.”
She shrugs. “Okay, then. You have my blessing and …” She pretends to zip her mouth shut. “That’s the last I’ll say about it.”
“ Maaaahhhhm !” Cassidy says. “I pushed the button. Come on.”
“Coming, honey.” Lynette leans in and hugs me again.
I watch the two of them until the doors shut, and then I turn around and walk back to my apartment, where Logan is patiently waiting for me.
“Thank you,” I say to him when he pulls me into his arms.
“For?”
“Bringing the stuff for pizzas, playing with Cassidy, teaching her to train Rhett … for what you did for Lynette, for being patient while I came around to seeing you for who you really are …”
“You’re welcome.” He smiles down at me. “Lynette can be scary.”
“She’s just protective. We’re protective of one another.”
“I like that. I admire it.”
“Do you?” I’m looking up at him, my arms loosely wrapped around his waist, and his around my shoulders.
“I really do.”
I think he’s about to kiss me goodnight when he says, “How about a game of two-player Munchkin? My place or yours?”
“Are you challenging me to a competition, Alexander?”
His arms are still looped behind my back.
“Only if you’re up to the challenge, Pennington.” His eyes sparkle with mischief.
“Always.” My smile breaks across my face. “Prepare to be humiliated.”
“Never.” He winks and releases me. “I’ll be right back.”
We end up playing two games of Munchkin. Logan wins the first one and gloats appropriately, standing up and doing a ridiculous spontaneous dance around my living room, singing, “I won! Ooooh, I won!”
I’m doubled over in laughter, barely caring that I lost.
I win the next game.
“You need to do a victory dance,” Logan says to me from across the coffee table.
“You celebrate your way. I’ll celebrate mine.”
“And how is that?”
I walk around the coffee table, feeling bold and more comfortable with Logan than ever. He leans back as if he knows what’s coming. I settle down across his lap, loop my arms around his neck and say, “I celebrate with a kiss for the winner.”
He smiles. “Much better than a dance. I’m taking notes for the next time I cremate you in a contest.”
I cup his jaw with my hands. “Less talking, Alexander. I’m here to collect my winning kiss.”
He chuckles. And then he leans in and kisses me, softly, tenderly, slowly. All humor evaporates the moment our lips touch. I lean into him and lose myself in our kiss. Something feels more constant and reliable between us tonight, like we’ve crossed a bridge or knocked a chunk of bricks out of the wall between us and used them to shore up our foundation. Logan feels more and more like home to me, like the man I’ll run to when I’m in trouble, the person who will have my back in every situation.
I run my hands through his hair and hold him to me. He cups my neck with his hand. His kiss makes me restless. The gentle stroke of his hand down my back soothes me. I want more of him and yet, here we are. He’s so sturdy and constant. And our kiss is a flame, burning stronger the longer we stay connected.
When he pulls back, he stares into my eyes.
“You’re beautiful.” His fingers trail through my hair, his gaze lingering—heavy, reverent—as if I’m something rare, something remarkable. No one has ever looked at me this way before.
“Flattery and pizza?” I tease, my voice raspy with emotion I can’t completely camouflage. “You’re pulling out the big guns.”
“I think it’s only considered flattery if it’s false or exaggerated. You overwhelm me, Olivia.”
I overwhelm him?
“The feeling is entirely mutual, Logan.”
He brushes the back of his hand down my cheek. His mouth opens as if he’s going to say something else, but then Rhett toddles over and climbs into my lap, demanding center stage.
“I’d better take him on a walk,” Logan says with a sigh. “It’s been a while since he’s been out.”
I lift Rhett off my lap and reluctantly stand up. “Duty calls,” I agree.
Logan collects Rhett’s leash while I pack up the game.
At the doorway he asks, “Running in the morning?”
“I’d love to.”
“Great. I’ll text you when I’m up.”
Rhett wags his rear and looks up at me, so I squat down and give him some love. Then the two of them leave together, and I go to bed with the sweet and poignant awareness that Logan Alexander is only a few apartments away from me—and he’s my boyfriend.
Megan texts me just as Logan and I are finishing a stretch after our run the following morning. He just asked me if I’d consider hanging out with him and Rhett today. We’ve already made plans to go to Gil and Maisy’s for dinner. That’s ten hours from now. And, as surprising as it seems, I do not want to go ten whole hours without seeing Logan.
I’ve got it bad.
MEGAN
I never see you anymore. I’d add a pouting face emoji if they made one.
Our text thread pings with a photo of Megan’s face. Her expression is an exaggerated sulk with her bottom lip sticking out and her eyebrows drawn up in the middle. I laugh.
Logan looks over and asks, “What’s funny?”
“Megan. She just sent me a photo of how she’s feeling.”
I turn my phone so Logan can see Megan’s theatrics.
“What’s upsetting Megan?”
“She says she never sees me anymore.”
“Ahhh. Well, maybe you should give her a piece of your weekend. I did monopolize your evening last night. And I had every intention of consuming as much of your free time as I could before we go back to work Monday, but it’s only fair that I learn to share.”
Now I might pout. “I was looking forward to a day with you and Rhett.”
Logan smiles. “We’ll have tonight with Maisy and Gil. And we have tomorrow, unless you have plans.”
“I don’t. I usually spend Sundays doing laundry and cleaning my place. I squeeze in a run. Nothing special.”
“We can do laundry together,” Logan says. “Unless that’s moving too fast.” He winks.
“It’s very domestic, but I’ve done my laundry with Frank, so I think we’re good.”
“You’ve washed Frank’s boxers?”
“No!” I laugh. “Frank had his own machines and I had mine. We just ended up downstairs at the same time. Scarlett’s usually down there keeping things in check. And Davy Jones was on his shoulder squawking about soap and suds and wash, wash, wash.”
“That bird is something else.”
“He is. So, should I tell Megan yes for today?”
“Up to you. Sounds like she needs some time with you.”
I nod, turning back to my cell, and type out a response to Megan.
OLIVIA
I miss you too. How about a girls’ day together? I have to be back by late afternoon. Logan and I have plans.
I do miss her.
MEGAN
I knew the pouty face would serve my cause. You can’t resist me.
OLIVIA
I can’t. What do you want to do today?
MEGAN
I have to go birthday shopping for my mom, and then I’m free.
OLIVIA
I’ll join you. Then we can grab lunch out.
MEGAN
I’ll swing by and pick you up in an hour. Sound good?
OLIVIA
See you then.
Megan arrives right on time, and we spend a few hours in the boutiques and shops a few blocks from The Serendipity. Then we grab lunch at Relish.
“I’m sorry I’ve been neglecting you over the past few weeks,” I say again once we’re seated with our sandwiches at a table for two.
The deli is bustling with weekend lunch customers. Tables are full, and people are lined up to get food to go.
“Everything with Logan is still new. I guess we’re in our dating honeymoon stage. We’ve spent most of our free time together since that night I showed up and threw myself at him.” I blush a little, but Megan just smiles at me. “We run together before work. We grab coffee at Serendipi-Tea on our way into Barnes. He either shows up at my place in the evening, or I show up at his. We’re adorable or pathetic.”
“It’s adorable, trust me,” Megan says, studying me.
She shakes her head, but she’s smiling. “It’s really something. I mean, I’m not surprised. You two were either going to annihilate one another or end up in the hottest love affair of the century.”
“What? Really?”
“That much passion? Yes.”
I laugh.
“Well, I’m not annihilating him.”
She laughs and says, “I want what you two have.”
“In what universe are we sitting here talking about you wanting what Logan and I have? It’s surreal.” I take a bite of my sandwich.
“I know. I’d be the first to tell you to watch out—based on his history of blindsiding you—but I can tell he’s not what we thought he was. Not anymore, anyway.”
“He’s really not,” I agree. “We’re already like an old married couple.”
“How so?”
“Tomorrow? We have plans to do laundry together.”
“Okay. Maybe I don’t want what you have. I want a man to wine and dine me for a while … and by a while, I mean years. Like, well into our marriage, after I have a baby-mom body. He still needs to be calling me pet names and saying I’m beautiful and asking me on dates.”
“Logan asks me out.”
“You don’t have to defend your style of relationship. You’re obviously deliriously happy with whatever he’s doing.”
“I am. And, we planned to go out next weekend, but the more we talked about it, the more we realized we just want to grab take out and eat it with Rhett in one of our apartments.”
“How is it at work? Is it weird?”
“Not really. We’re both still so laser-focused on our projects and clients. We do look at one another a lot. But it’s fine. Oh! I almost forgot to tell you. My immediate manager—Rick?”
“Yeah?”
“He’s moving to LA. His position will be opening up. The manager position, Meg. I’ve been working there for six years. I have to be in line for it. Don’t you think?”
“It’s yours, obviously. You’ve been there the longest of anyone who might qualify. And you meet all the criteria with flying colors. It’s in the bag!”
“I hope so. Darwin said he has a few candidates in mind. He’s basing his choice on performance on projects and leadership potential.”
“That’s you. Who else has performed well—and for years? And you are a fabulous leader.”
“Why, thank you.” I tip my soda cup in her direction.
“And humble,” Megan adds with a laugh.
I steal the dill spear off her plate. “For that comment, I get a pickle.”