Chapter 19 Elizabeth
ELIZABETH
The night of our first kiss, we ended up on the phone for hours.
It started as a quick check-in after I got home, like he’d asked me to. A simple text, “I’m home safe.”
And before I knew it, we were on the phone and talking about childhood bedrooms and the songs he used to write in secret.
He asked about my favorite books from my childhood.
We debated whether peanut butter should be crunchy or smooth.
I told him about my ridiculous high school job at a bakery where I once mixed up salt and sugar in a batch of muffins and nearly sickened the entire morning rush.
We talked about nothing. And somehow, it meant everything.
Neither of us wanted to end the call.
So now I was running on about three hours of sleep, but I wasn’t even tired. I was deliriously, impossibly happy. And I had no idea what to do with that.
I found Logan exactly where I knew he’d be: sitting at the massive grand piano in his studio, idly pressing a few keys as I stepped inside.
He wasn’t the same Logan I’d met weeks ago. That Logan had been reckless, quick to deflect, quick to push against any structure, any rules. But now? There was something steadier about him, something more intentional.
He was still Logan—still charming, still maddeningly good at getting under my skin—but I could see the change in the way he carried himself.
He wasn’t trying to be the rebel musician anymore.
He wasn’t trying to burn everything down before someone else could do it first. He was showing up for his music, for himself. For me.
“Good morning, sunshine,” he said, his gaze sweeping over my face like he was committing me to memory.
My stomach flipped. “You sound way too awake for someone who was up until five.”
“You make it sound like I’m the one who kept you up,” he said, smirking. “It takes two to tango.”
I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms. “I never stay up so late. I always focus on being ready, being present for work.”
He tilted his head, considering me. “And yet, here you are. Still standing.”
“Barely,” I murmured.
He grinned, leaning back against the piano. “Worth it, though?” His voice was softer now. A little uncertain.
I hesitated for a second and then nodded.
The warmth in his eyes sent another ripple of something through me, something new and terrifying and exhilarating all at once.
But I couldn’t think about that right now.
“I came to talk strategy,” I said, clearing my throat. “Breakup strategy.”
He let out a low chuckle. “You know, I think those are the two best words I’ve ever heard you say.”
My stomach flipped again. “Your PR nightmare is officially not a nightmare anymore. Sophie’s getting the role she wanted, your label just greenlit your next album exactly the way you want it, and my boss, Vanessa, who has never said a nice thing to me in her life, complimented my work this morning. ”
Logan let out a low whistle. “The devil herself gave you praise? I think that qualifies as a miracle.”
“I’m still in shock. But this means we did it. We pulled it off. It’s been great doing this in New Orleans rather than on one of the coasts. We had friendly press, not too much of it, and the city wrapped around us in this perfect way. We got just enough buzz, but it wasn’t overwhelming.”
Logan smiled slightly. “Yeah. I like being in New Orleans.”
I hesitated, then added, “But it’s been a lot for Sophie to stay out here, and I know she wants to get back to LA.”
Logan nodded, exhaling. “Yeah. I figured.”
“And you’re close to finishing your album. The breakup plan is solid. We can start easing you and Sophie apart publicly, no damage done.”
For a second, neither of us said anything.
This was supposed to be the moment we wrapped things up and tied it all in a neat little bow.
Logan and Sophie would go their separate ways; I would move on to my next PR crisis, and everything would return to normal.
Except I didn’t want normal. Normal meant walking away. Normal meant pretending the last few weeks hadn’t changed me, hadn’t changed us.
And that felt all wrong.
I gripped the back of a chair for support. Because if I let myself be honest, I had to admit that I didn’t just want the controlled, carefully managed version of Logan I’d built for the world to see.
I wanted him. The chaotic, frustrating, devastatingly charming man who had somehow, against all logic, worked his way under my skin.
He cleared his throat and then spoke, “This could be the end of our PR relationship, but it doesn’t have to be…” He faltered, looking suddenly unsure.
I straightened. My throat suddenly went dry. “Doesn’t have to be what?”
He swallowed visibly. “The end of… other things.”
I felt that invisible pull between us, stronger than it had ever been.
Before I could dwell on it too much, my phone buzzed. I glanced at the screen to see a message from Jake. My breath caught.
“What’s wrong?” Logan asked, instantly alert.
I shook my head, rereading the message, barely believing it. “Nothing. Everything’s fine.”
His brow furrowed slightly, but I was already unlocking my phone, my fingers trembling.
I looked up, unable to keep the excitement from my voice. “Jake got preliminarily approved for the trial. The one I told you about on the phone.”
Logan’s face softened. “The one you’ve been fighting for.”
I nodded, my pulse racing. “With my help, he can do it. This was the primary reason I accepted the job at Vanessa’s firm.
The pay helped cover Jake’s treatments. He has a government job with good insurance, but it didn’t pay for everything, and I wanted him to have the best. At first, that was all it was about, but then I realized the connections I would have with this job, and I worked to ensure he got exactly what he needed. And now, it’s happening.”
Vanessa was ruthless, with expectations that were brutal, but she was the best. And if I wanted to be the best, too, I had to keep up. Working under her meant learning how to see ten steps ahead and never flinch.
If it hadn’t been for Jake, I think I still would have ended up in PR. I’m good at it. But maybe I would’ve stayed closer to home, somewhere I could run things on my terms instead of answering to someone like Vanessa. Somewhere I didn’t feel like I was constantly holding my breath. Waiting. Hoping.
And suddenly, the thing I had fought for was one step closer to being real.
Before I could even process it, Logan was on the move. He closed the space between us in two steps, his hands settling on my shoulders, steadying me.
“Elizabeth.” His voice was low, serious. “You did this. You made this happen.”
I exhaled, shaking my head. “I don’t know how to—”
He cut me off. “Just feel it.”
I looked up at him, into those steady blue eyes, and for the first time in a long time, I let myself do just that.
No planning. No controlling. Just feeling.
And let me tell you, it felt good.
I let out a breathless laugh, shaking my head. “This doesn’t feel real.”
“It is real,” Logan murmured. “And you should let yourself celebrate it.”
I smiled, a little overwhelmed, a little dazed.
He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Sophie’s in LA right now.”
I blinked. “And?”
“And that means we have a little time to ourselves before we do the breakup.” His voice had dropped just slightly, the words slower, more deliberate.
I coughed, suddenly aware of how close he was. Close enough that I could see the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw, the way his pulse ticked in his throat. Close enough that my pulse had started hammering in response.
I should have said something practical. I should have steered us back to business.
But I didn’t. Because the way he was looking at me, like he was seeing straight through all my carefully built walls, made it impossible to think.
His gaze flickered to my lips, just for a second. A breathless, charged silence settled between us.
And then he leaned in.
I didn’t move. I didn’t stop him. I wanted this. I wanted him.
But just as I felt the warmth of his breath, just as anticipation curled low in my stomach—
“Logan, you got a sec?” Mick’s voice rang out from the hallway.
Logan froze.
I jerked back so fast that I nearly lost my balance.
A muscle ticked in Logan’s jaw as he exhaled sharply, shutting his eyes for half a second like he was mentally cursing the universe. Then he turned, his voice tight. “Yeah, Mick. Be there in a minute.”
Mick’s footsteps retreated down the hall.
Silence stretched between us again, but this time, it wasn’t the same.
Logan’s eyes found mine, still dark, still wanting.
I let out a shaky breath, running a hand through my hair. “So.”
“So,” he echoed, watching me closely.
I licked my lips, my voice steadier than I felt. “I guess we dodged a PR disaster.”
His mouth twitched. “I think I’d survive. And it’s just Mick. He knows the Sophie thing is fake. Would it be so bad if he knew… we were…” Another pause. Another slow, deliberate inhale from him. Then he tilted his head, considering me. “Come with me.”
I blinked. “What?”
“Come with me. Let’s get out of here until Sophie gets back. No work, no responsibilities. Just us.”
I stared at him. “Logan, I don’t take days off.”
He smirked. “Yeah, I figured. But maybe it’s time you did.”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Because the truth was, the idea of stepping away from it all—of stepping toward him—felt shockingly, overwhelmingly right.
And that terrified me. But it thrilled me, too.
I swallowed, then smiled. “Okay,” I whispered.
Logan grinned, running a hand through his hair. “I thought I’d have to work harder to convince you.”
“Consider it a moment of weakness.”
He tilted his head. “Or maybe you just realized you like me.”
I groaned. “I take it back. I’m going home.”
“Too late. You already said yes.” He smirked, but then his expression shifted, a little more serious, a little more certain. “I need to figure out what Mick wants, and then we can go.”
I blinked. “Go where?”
“Somewhere I go when I like to escape.”
Warmth curled in my stomach, and I could barely breathe. “And what exactly are we escaping from?”
Logan’s gaze lingered on mine, quiet and knowing. “Everything that doesn’t feel like this.”
A shiver ran down my spine, and I knew that whatever this was, whatever it was turning into, I wasn’t ready to walk away. I wasn’t supposed to be here—not like this. I was supposed to be the one keeping a professional distance, keeping things in order, keeping Logan in check.
But I couldn’t argue with the way I was feeling. This was no crush.
I was falling for him.
It didn’t matter how impractical it was, how complicated things would get, or how many reasons I could come up with to stop myself. When Logan looked at me like that—like I truly mattered—I didn’t want to stop.
“Go pack,” he murmured, his voice softer now.
And for once in my life, I didn’t argue.