Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Olivia
I just think about how many women in their workplaces
have been working to get a promotion,
and they look around, and then this guy comes.
~ Christy Clark
I’m working on a presentation with Logan for our potential new client. Charlie approved the brand concept, so now Logan and I are collaborating on a cohesive strategy for the campaign content. We’ve sequestered ourselves in the conference room so we can focus without interruption.
Only, focusing on work when I’m alone in a room with Logan is not exactly easy.
We’ve been officially dating for a few weeks now. Everything is new, yet comfortable. We’re constantly together, and yet we miss one another when we have to be apart for even the shortest length of time. We’re like old friends, but everything about him sets my heart racing and my mind whirling. Like right now, he’s trying to focus on our project, and all I can think about is the way he made me laugh last night. I look at his mouth in an attempt to focus on what he’s saying. Instead, I remember the way his lips feel on mine.
“Considering the demographic they’re trying to reach,” Logan says, “I’m thinking Instagram is our primary platform. Maybe even some ads on LinkedIn to reach professionals looking for good lunch break alternatives.”
Logan’s all business. Serious. Focused. But occasionally flirtatious, in a very professionally appropriate way.
“Oooh. I like the LinkedIn idea,” I say. “That’s outside the box.”
Logan smiles at me. He’s wearing a blue oxford shirt with the sleeves rolled up. The color draws out his eyes and contrasts with his brown hair perfectly.
“Do I have something on my face, Pennington?”
“No. Uh, I was just thinking about executives on their lunch breaks. How much they’ll appreciate an ad on LinkedIn telling them about the deli.”
“That’s exactly what it looked like you were thinking about.”
I wad up a piece of scratch paper and raise my hand to playfully toss it at Logan.
He captures my wrist and plucks the paper from my fingers. My hand slides down, and our fingers interlock. Our eyes are riveted together in a playful challenge.
“You look exceptional today,” Logan says without cracking a smile. Stoicism at its finest. “And I admire your thoughts on how the campaign will feel to the target audience. You’re not only beautiful, you’re insightful, excellent at your job … ”
“Are you saying all of that as my boyfriend or my coworker?” I ask, not even caring which way he identifies. I give his hand a little squeeze, and he lowers our enjoined hands to the table, leaving mine resting there while he pulls his back into his lap.
“Both.” He smiles at me. “And I think we should give this client a visit for lunch. My treat.”
“That sounds good,” I agree.
My phone rings. I pull it out of my pocket and look down at the screen.
“Lynette,” I tell Logan.
“Hey, Lynette,” I say into my phone. “What’s up?”
“I have a favor to ask,” Lynette says.
“Sure. What is it?”
“I lent my car to a friend. Could you possibly swing by to grab Cassidy after school?”
“Sure. But how will you get home?”
“My friend will have my car back about an hour after Cass is out of class. I’ll just do some work here until he gets back.”
I hold up my finger to Logan and mouth the words, “I’ll be right back.”
I step into the hallway to continue my conversation with Lynette.
“He? Who is this friend, Lynette?”
“Agh. Did I say he?”
“You did. So?”
“It’s Denny, the second-grade teacher.”
“Denny?”
“He just needed to borrow my car. He’s a friend. I decided, as a grown woman, to lend it to him. But it turns out he’s running later than he expected. Do you want me to call Mom to get Cassidy?”
“No. No. Of course I’ll get her. I just haven’t heard you mention him before.”
“He’s a friend. But if I wanted to date someone would that be so awful? Or are you the only one allowed to date?”
“No. Of course not. I just want you to be careful.”
“Just like I want you to be careful.”
“Right.” I chuckle.
As if dating Logan requires me to be careful. He’s not what I thought he was. He respects me, compliments me, supports me, and admires me. He’s not the guy he used to be.
“You two have been moving awfully quickly,” Lynette adds.
“We’ve known each other forever,” I remind her.
“I know. I know. And obviously he’s generous. Don’t get me wrong. He did pay my rent. That’s massive. And I’m infinitely grateful. That has nothing to do with how I feel about him for you . I shouldn’t have any misgivings about what he’s capable of when it comes to ripping the rug out from under you when you least expect it. After what he did for me, I should drop all my suspicions and give him a chance. I know. And I’m sure my doubts will diminish over time.”
“Logan’s amazing, Lynette. Really. As you’ll recall, he didn’t even take credit for that gesture. Do you know anyone who would do something that amazing and not let anyone know? I don’t. And yet, I do. It’s him. And it’s not just that. I see Logan so much more clearly now. He’s tender, thoughtful, kind, funny. He takes time to notice me, even things that should seem insignificant. He’s nothing like I thought he was.”
“You’re falling for him.”
I pause, her words hitting me at first like a splash of cold water, but the more I let them soak in, they refresh me.
Am I falling for Logan?
“I think I am.”
“Okay. Well, so much for taking things carefully.” Lynette chuckles.
“I think I’ve been too careful. All these years, I’ve held him at bay. I’m finally giving him the chance he deserves. Give it time, Lynette. You’ll see. He’s not like he was.”
“I hope you’re right. Anyway, I promised to zip my lip. I am now. For real. I’ll trust your judgment.”
“Thank you.”
I hang up and turn around. Darwin must have walked into the conference room when I was on the phone, and I didn’t even notice. He’s talking with Logan as I approach the doorway.
“It really came down to you and Olivia,” Darwin says.
Logan’s still sitting at the table where we were just collaborating on the branding concept for the new client. He’s staring up at Darwin, totally focused on our boss.
Darwin continues talking to Logan with his back turned toward me. “The extra effort you put in and the way you sold yourself as a candidate convinced me. I’m going to announce your promotion to the team next week. Congratulations, Logan. I knew I made the right move bringing you here. You’ll be the ideal replacement for Rick with your natural leadership skills. You saved the Untethered campaign early on in our work with them. Bailing Olivia out during that powerpoint showed me how well you think on your feet. I’m eager to see what you bring to the marketing manager position.”
Logan what ? Sold himself as a candidate—even when he knew the decision had come down to him and me?
Lynette’s words ring through my ears like the bell at Notre Dame, reverberating and overpowering every other thought. … what he’s capable of when it comes to ripping the rug out from under you when you least expect it.
Talk about déjà vu.
Logan has always grabbed the top position in everything, leaving me to eat his dust.
And he did it again.
Here. At Barnes. The place I’ve worked at for six years, proving myself every day and on every project with every client. And he waltzes in, as always, grabbing the spotlight—and my promotion.
I turn around before either Logan or Darwin have seen me. I head straight to the cubby where I’ve stashed my purse. I’m not thinking. Everything is pure adrenaline pounding in my ears. I pause for one sane moment, realizing I need to cover my tracks or I’ll be out of a job or … I don’t even know what. I just know I need to make an excuse for what I’m about to do.
I grab Suze by the forearm and look her in the eyes.
“Are you okay, Olivia?”
“I’m—yes. I, uh … I have to get my niece. I’ll text Logan. We were working on the new deli account together in the conference room. I’ll call Lydia to tell her I had to leave early. Just … cover for me if anyone asks.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Suze asks. “Is your niece okay?”
“She’s fine. I just have to go.”
I look around, realizing I probably look as rabid as I feel. My worst nightmare would be Logan or Darwin walking out here before I can make a clean break. I need air. Space. Some time to clear my head. Tears threaten to fall, but I take a gulp and look at Suze.
“I have to run. Now. I can’t be late. Thank you.”
Suze’s face contorts with concern.
I can’t even look her in the eye.
I turn and practically run to the elevators.
Charlie stops me. “Where are you headed in such a rush, missy? Got a hot lunch date?”
“Something like that.” I swerve around him. “I’ll explain later.”
“Oh. Okay.”
Charlie’s stunned expression is the last thing I see before I push through the door leading into the hallway and head straight to the elevators. I push the down button repeatedly, as if that will bring the car up any faster.
I hear voices in the hallway. It’s Logan. And Darwin.
The elevator taunts me with its shut doors, my frantic reflection a mirror of my reality.
The doors slide open as Logan and Darwin’s chuckles grow louder. I hit the Close Door button and step to the side of the doors, hiding myself as efficiently as any well-meaning ostrich.
The doors slide shut. I push the button for the ground floor, and the elevator mercifully descends, away from Barnes and the scene that will invariably repeat itself in my mind for years to come: the moment I declared out loud that I was falling for Logan Alexander, followed by the moment Darwin exposed Logan’s attempt to steal the manager position right out of my hands.
I don’t even remember the walk to my car, turning the key, or exiting the parking garage next to our offices. I’m driving in an emotional daze, my face wet with fresh tears.
Betrayal stings.
Betrayal from someone you allowed yourself to feel vulnerable and safe with stings like treading through a field of nettle. Each pinprick incites a riot of pain, unrelenting and piercing.
I did this to myself.
I trusted him.
He betrayed me.
He always betrays me.
And he doesn’t even regret it.
A miniscule voice tries to remind me of his kindness to Lynette. That same little piece of me throws up a slide show of him bringing me coffee, making me ice cream, playing with Rhett, dancing with me in his apartment … and our kisses.
I cannot reconcile those images with the reality I just experienced for the hundredth time in my life. Logan Alexander will always be a conundrum. He may be kind and funny at times. But at his core, he will always be a competitor, and he will invariably slay me and everything I work for in the process.
I am officially the greatest fool in the world.
Not only was I falling for Logan.
I officially fell.
And unlike Charlie predicted, I might not survive this fall.
I tell Bluetooth to call Megan on her cell.
She answers the call. “Hey, Liv, what’s up?”
I sob at the sound of her voice, pulling my car alongside a curb because I can’t see well enough to drive.
“Hey. Hey. Are you okay?”
“Noooo, I’m not!” I sob.
“Where are you? I’ll meet you. What happened?”
She mutters something to her coworker, then she’s back on the phone. “Where are you? I’m leaving work. What happened, Olivia?”
“ Loooogan .” It’s all I can say before I burst into more tears.
“What did he do?” Her voice is so full of mama bear intensity, I almost stop crying.
“He … he … heeeeee … He got the prom-ooooo-tion,” I say between sobs.
“He what? He got your promotion? The one we were saying you were a shoo-in for?”
“Yuh … yuh … yesssss.”
“Oh, Olivia. I’m so sorry.”
Megan’s car door slams shut. I hear her engine turn on, and then the call is tinny, going through her Bluetooth.
“Where are you?” Megan asks me.
“I don’t know.”
“What? Are you safe?”
“I pulled over. I’m between Barnes and home.”
“Okay. Okay. Just share your location, and I’m going to come get you. Don’t you dare drive right now, you hear me? Stay on the call. I’m coming.”
I pull my phone up and send Megan my location.
“Okay. I got that,” she says. “I’m on my way. You sit tight. We’re going to get you into sweats—or a hot bath and then sweats … and ice cream … or whatever you want. And we’ll get through this, Olivia. We will. This is not the end of your life. It’s a low point. But it’s not the end.”
“I know. I know.” I take a deep breath.
We’re both quiet, but I hear Megan’s car and the sound of her breathing.
“Remember that time I had a crush on Tim Cranton?” she says out of the blue.
“In seventh grade?”
“Yes. But he didn’t like me at all.”
“I never got what you saw in him, even back then.”
“Well, you told me, ‘Megan, he’s just a boy. He doesn’t matter.’”
“I remember that.”
“Yeah? Well, I’m going to say that to you. I know Logan mattered. I’m not dumb and we’re not in seventh grade anymore. But, Liv, he’s just a boy. And you will get to the point where he doesn’t matter as much … given time.”
“Thanks, Megan.”
I sniffle and open my glove box to grab some take out napkins.
“Cassidy!” I say, remembering I promised to pick her up after school.
“What about Cassidy?” Megan asks. “I’m pulling up, by the way. I see you. Grab your purse and lock your car. We’ll come back for it later.”
“I told Lynette I’d grab Cassidy after school.”
“Fine. We’ll grab her. Or I’ll call Lynette and tell her I’ll be getting her. Trust me, when she hears what Logan pulled, she won’t want you on the streets either.”
“She can’t know.”
“What? Why not?”
“She’ll hate him. She’s already been warning me not to fall for him.”
“Are you actually protecting him right now?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. I’m just not ready to tell my sister, okay?”
“Fine. We won’t tell Lynette yet. Whatever you need. This is your day. You call the shots. From the passenger seat, mind you.”
I grab Cassidy’s booster seat from the backseat and climb into Megan’s car as she clicks off her cell, ending our call.
“Oh, Olivia.” She reaches across and pushes my hair back from my face. “I’m so sorry.”
She leans in and pulls me into a hug, and I collapse into her.
“I don’t have words, so I’m just going to do whatever you need. What sounds good? A bath? A nap? Food? Bombing his apartment?”
“I don’t want to bomb his apartment. I’m just … spent. Maybe a nap.”
Megan takes me back to The Serendipity. I take the stairs instead of the elevator so I can avoid even looking at Logan’s apartment. Gran’s apartment. The one he ripped out from under me. Yes. He didn’t know about that particular undermining, but it’s so on brand for him.
We walk up to my doorway and there’s a cookie sitting right on my doormat.
“What is this?” Megan bends down and picks it up.
“I have no idea. They pop up everywhere around here.”
I don’t mention the ones I’ve randomly found in my apartment. There’s really no way to explain their appearance. I don’t have the energy to sort through the whys and wherefores of mystery cookies right now.
“Want to read it?” she asks.
“Not especially.”
“Mind if I do?”
“Suit yourself.”
I take my key out and open the door—the door that no longer squeaks because Steve fixed it the same day I told Logan about the electrical and plumbing issues. Maybe Logan even had a hand in getting things fixed and improved in my apartment.
Mr. Conundrum. That’s what I’m calling him from now on.
Megan opens the crinkly cellophane wrapper, cracks the cookie in half, and pulls out the paper. Then she reads, “ Don’t let the past predict your future. Things aren’t always as they appear .”
“May I?” I ask her.
She hands me the two halves of the cookie and the slip of paper.
I place them on my wood floor and stomp on them.
Then I walk into the kitchen, grab a broom, and sweep the mess and the infuriating fortune into the dustpan.
Megan says, “I’m just going to draw you a bath. Busy yourself while I get that going … Maybe put water on for chamomile tea … or lavender. Whatever soothes the ache.”
She walks down the hall, and I open a cabinet to grab two mugs. When I turn to fill the kettle, the crumbs and scraps of cellophane along with the crumpled fortune are on my counter. I could have sworn I just dumped those into the trash can.
I pull the can over to the edge of the counter and push the cookie bits and wrapper into the trash. Like a glutton for punishment, I pick the fortune up and reread it.
Don’t let the past predict your future. Things aren’t always as they appear.
What does that mean anyway?
Things aren’t always as they appear .
Things are as they appear. That’s why we call it appearing.
I glance at the paper again. What is happening? I rub my eyes.
The fortune says, clear as day, Give him a chance to explain .
I drop the paper as if it’s on fire. Nothing happens. It doesn’t swirl around, start talking, or float back into my hand.
I reluctantly and carefully lift it off the floor, closing my eyes and opening them again.
When I look at the paper, the original message is there:
Don’t let the past predict your future. Things aren’t always as they appear.
Okay. Obviously, I imagined that transformation. I’m grieving and tired and overwhelmed.
A cookie doesn’t change its message.
Still, the words ring through my head as if the walls of this building are actually whispering them: Give him a chance to explain .