Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
Logan
And no relationship is perfect, ever.
There are always some ways you have to bend,
to compromise, to give something up
in order to gain something greater.
~ Sarah Dessen
I don’t sleep. How can I?
Rhett licks my hand, my cheek, my chin. He whimpers. Then he abandons me and lays by the front apartment door like he knows Olivia is nearby, needing her own comfort, and he wants to be the one to give it.
“Trust me, buddy. I get it. I wouldn’t lick her, but I’d love to be the one to soothe her pain.”
Only, I am the source of her pain.
Why didn’t I see this coming? And how do I get us back from here?
Those thoughts ping through my head all night.
I texted Gil when I got home from my attempt at an initial apology and conversation with Olivia.
He answered: At an elementary school play for Sam right now. Come to dinner tomorrow night. My wife will have some sort of solution, I’m sure.
Then he sent another text: Sorry you’re going through this. Look at it this way. It had to come up sooner or later. Better sooner so you can move past it.
I’ll admit it—his thoughts that we might move past this gave me just enough hope to keep me from doing something rash overnight, like camping in front of her doorway or texting her repeatedly … or hiring a moving company to switch our apartments overnight.
This isn’t about persistence. It’s about patience. I can be pushy, or I can be respectful.
Still, coffee never hurts.
So, I take my run earlier than usual. I’m up anyway. And then I stop by Serendipi-Tea to get a specialty drink.
“Morning, Logan,” Nori says.
“Morning.”
“Everything okay?”
“I’m hoping it’s nothing a month of specialty coffees won’t solve.”
“Uh-oh. That sounds pretty serious.”
I nod.
“Let me guess,” she says. “One wildflower coffee lemonade for starters.”
“Yep. And whatever else might help.”
“Advice?”
“Yes. If you have any.”
Nori puts her elbows on the counter and leans in toward me. “Don’t give up. We might push a guy away when we’re hurting or sad, but we don’t really want you to leave us completely alone. Give her time. I’ve seen the two of you together. She’s head-over-heels for you.”
“I messed up big time,” I confess.
“Well, then. Make up big time.”
I nod at Nori and place a ten on the counter. “A little extra for your counseling services.”
“They come at no charge.” She smiles, handing my money back to me. “This one’s on the house.”
I thank Nori and step down to wait for Olivia’s drink.
I stop in front of her door and set the cup on the doormat, half expecting a fortune cookie to pop out of the mat. Of course, one doesn’t.
Besides, if I were to take those other fortunes seriously, I’ve had enough admonishment to last me a while.
I walk away, glancing back once before I turn through the lounge, half hoping Olivia will open her door and see the drink—and me. Of course, she might dump it down the drain. But maybe she’ll actually drink it.
I get ready and head to work.
I don’t know what to do. Darwin seems dead-set on promoting me. He said it came down to me and Olivia. She and I both heard him say he picked me over her.
I’d love this promotion. I’ve always wanted to be a marketing manager. I came back home to claim this position, or at least that’s what I thought when I instigated a move and applied at Barnes. Being a manager would give me more influence over the whole scope of each project.
But when I think about it, Olivia would make a great manager too. She has a different skill set and approach to bring to a management role, but she’d do a great job—just like she does everything else, with excellence and her own touch.
I miss her. And it’s only been fifteen hours since I’ve seen her. Eighteen since we were flirting in the conference room. It feels more like eighteen years than eighteen hours.
When I walk into the workspace, Charlie approaches me.
“You look like crap, Logan. What happened?”
I smile a close-mouthed grin at him.
“Nothing much. Didn’t sleep well.”
“Did this lack of sleep involve Olivia? Because she called in.”
“She called in?”
Charlie raises his eyebrows at me and thins his lips. “I think I liked it better when you two openly loathed each other.”
“I never loathed Olivia. Ever.”
“Well, whatever it was, it was far easier on the rest of us.”
“Don’t worry. I’m going to fix things.”
“Let me know if you need any help. In all seriousness, I like you two for one another. And this”—Charlie motions to my face and then the rest of my body—“is not a good look on you.”
Darwin arrives to work about an hour later. I pop my head in his office.
“Do you have a minute?” I ask him.
“For you? Always. What can I do for you?”
I shut the door behind me, and then I lay out my whole situation to him. I probably sound unhinged. Also, I’ve never been so unprofessional in my whole life. Usually, I’m one to keep all my cards close. I don’t mix business with pleasure. I keep my emotions under lock and key. I’m laser-focused and driven. Not today.
Olivia Pennington has always had this effect on me. She unravels me. I’m not myself—not even a version of myself I recognize. Everything about her dominates my thoughts and drives my decisions. All I can think of today is making everything up to her. Not only this promotion, but the years of competition when I disregarded the way my dominance and ambition would ultimately diminish her sense of success and worth.
After my meeting with Darwin, I feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I’m still burdened by the radio silence from Olivia. There’s a gnawing hole in my life in the space she has started to fill with her laughter, her smiles, and her brilliance.
On my drive to Gil’s I stop at the florist to get a bouquet of tulips since they just came back in season and Maisy loves them. I pick up an extra bouquet with a vase and set it on the passenger seat, securing it with the seatbelt.
I start the engine and head toward Gil’s. My phone pings with a notification. I’m like a lab rat, habituated to the sound of a bell. All day long, my head has been snapping up any time my cell rang or vibrated. I kept hoping against hope Olivia would call or text.
She didn’t.
But now, my car Bluetooth announces, “Text from Olivia Pennington.”
I smile at the sound of her name. She might be texting to tell me she wants nothing to do with me ever again, but I’m pretty sure she’d have the decency to call if that’s what she were going to say.
I push the play button on my digital display and the automated male voice reads Olivia’s message.
“Thanks for the coffee.”
I wait.
That’s it.
I hit replay.
“Thanks for the coffee,” the voice says again.
I try to imagine Olivia’s voice saying thanks instead of the British guy I have programmed into my settings.
She thanked me. That’s something. Of course, she’s polite. But I’m choosing to think her reaching out to thank me represents more than mere manners. I think Olivia wants to find a way back to me. I have to pave that road, but if I do, she just might walk down it and meet me halfway.
I push the button to record a response. “Send a message to Olivia Pennington.”
“What would you like to say to Olivia Pennington?” my British car guy asks.
“So many things.”
“Your message says, ‘So many things.’ Would you like to send it now?”
“No! No! No! Do not send.”
“Cancelled.”
Whew.
I picture British car guy rolling his eyes, sipping his tea and thinking, These Americans. So dramatic.
“Send a message to Olivia Pennington,” I try again.
“What would you like to say to Olivia Pennington?”
“You’re welcome. Let me know if your order varies for tomorrow. I’ll get you whatever you’d like from Serendipi-Tea.”
My British guy repeats my message, and I hit send.
There’s no answer.
I’d like to say I’m not disappointed, but I am.
Only two days ago, Olivia would have sent a sassy comeback or said something fun and flirty in response to my offer to alter her order.
We’ll get back to our bantering again. I have to believe we will.
I pull up to Gil and Maisy’s a few minutes later. Maisy answers the door and pulls me into a hug. I’ve got the tulips behind my back, so I wrap my free arm around her.
“Don’t worry, Logan. This will all work out in time.”
“I hope so. People work through things like this all the time, right?”
“Tons,” she says confidently.
“Then again, probably a ton of people just decide they’ve had enough. Probably tons of those too,” I say.
“I think those cases usually involve someone who won’t change or is oblivious to their part. That’s not you. I don’t think Olivia wants to lose you.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Maisy’s smile is gentle and warm.
“Heyyy!” Gil shouts, coming through and looping his arm around his wife. “I just made ramen bowls. Nothing fancy.”
“Sounds good,” I say.
I pull the tulips out and hand them to Maisy.
“Tulips? My favorite!” Maisy says. “Thank you, Logan. These are so beautiful. Let me get a vase.”
“Making me look bad, as always,” Gil teases me.
Maisy takes the bouquet wrapped in brown paper and walks toward the kitchen.
Gil claps me on the back. “So, how’d it go?”
“I talked to my boss.”
“And?”
“He was in shock, I think. He said he’ll get back to me.”
“That’s all you can do. Take action and hope for the best.”
“I can’t believe I’ve been this dense.”
“We’re all dense somewhere.” Gil smiles at me. “Ask Maisy. I can be so dense. The point is your intention and your ability to turn this around.”
“I feel so out of my depth.”
“Welcome to relationships with women, my man. Toss the roadmap, lose the compass, unlearn everything you thought you knew. They are labyrinths and riddles.”
Maisy joins us in the entryway.
“Who’s a riddle?”
“Women. You’re the riddles we want to spend our lives solving, the labyrinths we want to devote ourselves to navigating. You’re infinitely complex.”
“Is that so?” Maisy folds her arms over her chest and grins at Gil.
“Only if everything I just said is being taken as a compliment. It was meant as one.”
“I know, babe. It’s a compliment. But we aren’t that complex. We just want to be seen as special. We want you to consider us. We don’t like being overlooked or set aside. Maybe that’s not just women. Maybe that’s all of us.”
“I overlooked Olivia,” I mumble.
“That’s why you’re pulling out the big guns,” Gil says. “She’s going to be floored.”
“What are you boys up to?” Maisy asks.
“I’ll tell you over dinner,” I say.
“You’re going to love this,” Gil says to Maisy on his way into the dining room.