Chapter Twenty-Four
Jess
Stretching, I let out a groan as I work the kinks out of my body. Logan’s awake next to me, staring at the ceiling.
“What time is it?” I mumble.
“Whoa,” I say, squinting at the dark room. “That’s too early.” I burrow back under the sheets. “Why are you awake?”
He turns his head toward me, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Had a weird dream.”
Afraid of what that might mean, I prop myself up slightly. “You wanna talk about it?”
Instead of answering, he asks, “Do you remember the first time we met?”
I groan and hide my face in his chest. It vibrates with his quiet laughter.
“Come on,” he says, wrapping an arm around my bare shoulders. “It’s a good story. Me asking you out. You telling me you were gay.”
“I thought you were a player,” I mutter into his skin. “Besides, admit it. The chance of seeing girl-on-girl action is what kept you following me around.”
He snorts. “No. I knew you were lying. I just wanted to see if you’d actually kiss a girl to prove it.”
“How’d you know I was lying?” I ask, peeking up at him.
“When I asked you to coffee, you were biting your lip and staring at my chest the whole time.” He demonstrates, biting his lip and giving me an exaggerated, over-the-top look.
“I did not look like that.”
“Please,” he says. “You were practically thirsting for this bod.” He gestures dramatically to himself.
I pinch his side. “It’s a dad bod now.”
Before he can retaliate, I scramble out of bed and run toward the bathroom, laughing.
After a longer-than-necessary two-person shower, Logan gets the kids and the dogs up while I start breakfast.
It feels like before.
So normal it’s giving me whiplash.
I prayed for things to go back to this. For the ease. The teasing. The rhythm of us moving around each other in the kitchen without bumping or bristling.
And now that it’s here, I don’t trust it.
Not at all.
Part of me is still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for Logan to snap out of it and realize he can’t handle it after all. Or worse, this is some elaborate revenge fantasy where he makes me believe we’re fine only to show up at therapy with divorce papers.
The thought makes my stomach twist.
He walks into the kitchen holding River, with Myles trailing behind them. Bell and Ty weave between their legs like furry traffic cones.
“Ready?” he asks.
I nod, grabbing both our travel mugs and following him out the door.
We pause at the driveway, both of us staring at the cars.
We’ve been taking separate ones because… well. You know. And before that, I wasn’t even going into the office regularly. Now we’re just standing here like two people who have no idea how this works.
“We’re gonna be late,” Myles declares dramatically, stomping toward the closest car. Mine.
River copies him immediately.
“Well,” I say, opening the passenger door, “I guess that solves that.”
Logan huffs a quiet laugh and catches the keys I toss at him.
The boys wave to the dogs through the living room window while Logan backs out of the driveway. Bell tilts her head. Ty just stares, face dropping on his paws.
Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to squish my furry babies’ faces before leaving, but we learned the hard way that dramatic goodbyes only make it worse. Leaving calmly actually helps them adjust.
We haven’t had a grumpy neighbor call about howling dogs since we started this approach.
Small victories.
As we pull onto the road, Logan reaches over and squeezes my knee briefly before putting his hand back on the wheel.
River kicks his feet lightly. “Daddy, when can we see the baby again?”
“When they’re settled,” Logan replies. “New parents need quiet.”
I twist in my seat to face them. “Don’t be sad baby. I put Reese’s in your lunches today.”
Both boys light up instantly.
“But,” I add, pointing at them, “I want every single vegetable gone. I mean it. If I open those lunch boxes and see uneaten carrots-”
“They’re baby carrots,” Myles corrects.
“Exactly. Baby carrots. Eat them.”
River nods solemnly. “I’ll eat Myles’s.”
“Don’t you dare,” Myles snaps, clutching his backpack.
Logan laughs under his breath. “Out, out. Before your mother drafts a vegetable contract.”
We pull into the drop-off line instead of walking them in, and once the doors unlock, they tumble out in a rush of backpacks and noise, yelling goodbye as they sprint toward their teachers.
I know sending River to preschool is a little premature.
He’s barely four. But the kid has so much energy that some kind of structured outlet was necessary.
Besides, Myles’s school has excellent early programs, and it keeps them in the same routine.
It’s a little pricey, but thankfully, we can afford it.
Logan waits until both teachers wave at us before pulling away from the curb and merging back into traffic.
Only then do I reach into my bag and pull out my tablet, unlocking it as I shift into work mode.
When we’re a few blocks from the office, Logan casually says, “I’m firing Arnon today. You should be there.”
“Why?” I ask, genuinely confused why he wants me there.
At a red light, he turns slightly toward me. “When I fire that jackass, I want him to know exactly why. And I don’t want him expecting a reference.”
I bite my lip, a ridiculous surge of attraction catching me off guard. Protective Logan is unfairly sexy.
“Do you think we can do that?” I ask. “What if he sues us for unfair dismissal?”
“Jess,” Logan says flatly, “being a perverted asshole isn’t unfair.”
“It is when there’s no proof and the only complainant is the boss’s wife.”
“Babe,” he says, “you’re the boss too.”
“That’s worse,” I argue. “I want him gone as much as you do, but I do not want to pay that man a cent more than we have to.”
Logan smirks. “We’re in Texas remember. It’s an at-will state. We can fire him for being an asshole without a formal complaint.”
I blink. “I can’t believe I forgot that.”
He raises a brow. “Something Jessica West forgot?”
I narrow my eyes at him.
“Careful,” I warn. “I’m still your boss.”
His smirk deepens. “Pretty sure that goes both ways.”
Rolling my eyes, I focus back on my tablet with a smile on my face.
Logan
Any friendliness I ever had toward Arnon evaporated the second I found out he’d made Jess uncomfortable. Now just looking at his face irritates me.
Jess told me not to punch him. Apparently assault is “frowned upon,” even in our great state. I still think it might be worth it.
Hindsight’s a bitch though. When I call him into my office and he walks in, spotting Jess seated beside me at her old chair, his expression shifts. It’s subtle. But it’s there. A flicker of disdain. A sneer he doesn’t quite manage to hide.
Motherfucker.
How did I miss this?
I don’t ask him to sit.
Instead, I slide the envelope across the desk. Jess and I had Macki prepare it earlier. Another thing my wife was right about, Macki is sharp when she’s not busy avoiding eye contact.
Arnon looks down at the envelope, then back at me. “What’s this?”
“We’ve reviewed your conduct,” I say evenly. “And we’ve decided to terminate your employment effective immediately.”
His posture stiffens. “Excuse me?”
Jess’s voice is calm when she speaks. “Your behavior toward female employees has been inappropriate and unprofessional. That doesn’t align with this company’s standards.”
His eyes flick to her, irritation flashing.
“Is that what this is?” he asks, almost laughing. “Because of some misunderstanding?”
“It’s not a misunderstanding,” I cut in, my tone flat. “It’s a pattern.”
He’s panicking now, with sweat beading at his brows. “Who complained?”
“That,” I say evenly, “is not the issue here.”
I lean forward slightly, folding my palms on the desk. “We reserve the right to terminate your employment as we see fit. And we have.”
Before he can respond, Jess calmly presses the intercom button.
The office door opens almost immediately. Peter steps inside, posture straight, eyes flicking between the three of us.
Jess doesn’t raise her voice. She doesn’t need to.
“Peter,” she says evenly, without breaking eye contact with Arnon, “will escort you out. Ms. Quigley will be in touch to arrange a time for you to collect your personal belongings.”
If his offenses were smaller, I might almost feel bad for him. Especially at the reminder that Macki will be the one calling him. He doesn’t know she’s about to step into the operations role, but judging by the flare of his nostrils, he understands enough. The message lands.
Arnon’s eyes snap to mine, desperation creeping in. “Logan, if you and I could just talk-”
“No,” I say, cutting him off without hesitation.
He swallows. “You’re going to fire me over… what? Office politics?”
“We’re firing you,” I reply calmly, “because we don’t tolerate disrespect in our company.”
His gaze flickers to Jess again, resentment flashing.
I stand.
“And I definitely don’t tolerate it toward my wife.”
Peter steps fully inside the office.
Arnon exhales sharply through his nose, then straightens his jacket like he’s trying to salvage some dignity.
“This is bullshit,” he mutters.
“Escort him out,” Jess repeats, not even looking at him anymore.
Peter places a hand lightly on Arnon’s arm and guides him toward the hallway.
The door shuts behind them.
Jess lets out a long breath and leans back in her chair. “I enjoyed that more than I thought I would.”
I chuckle, standing up and bracing my hands on the arms of her chair as I lean down to kiss her.
Her lips barely move against mine before she pulls back and glances quickly toward the glass wall that overlooks what used to be Arnon’s station. It’s empty now.
“Mmm,” she murmurs against my mouth, “in the office, Mr. West.”
Groaning quietly, I steal one more kiss before dropping into my own chair. “You know those CEOs who play golf all day?” I mutter. “How do they pull that off?”
Jess smirks, crossing her legs so that the pointed heel of her shoe comes to rest against the inside of my knee. “They delegate.”
“Hmm.” My gaze lingers on her legs a second too long before I drag it back up to her face. “That’s going to be difficult considering the only person I want to play mid-day sports with is my COO.”
She arches a brow, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Sounds like a management problem.”
“Tragic,” I reply dryly.
She smiles, shaking her head as she pushes to her feet. “I’m going to head back upstairs.”
“Don’t go,” I whine, catching her elbow and tugging her onto my lap before she can escape.
She lets out a soft giggle, one hand sliding over my cheek as I nuzzle into her shoulder.
“You know,” she murmurs, fingers brushing through my hair, “you could always move upstairs with me.”
I groan against her skin. “We’d never get any work done.”
“You’re right,” she says lightly. “Especially since my office doesn’t have glass walls.”
I freeze.
Her grin widens at the exact moment realization hits me.
And before I can tighten my grip, she slips out of my arms and heads for the door.
“Jessica,” I call after her.
She glances back over her shoulder, victorious.
“Love you, Mr. West,” she says sweetly, then disappears pout the door.