Chapter 7
Logan
“You’re right, ladies,” Dominic says, setting his pool cue against the wall. “We can definitely all hang in the same bar.” He slides into the booth next to Serena, taking Layla’s reluctant truce as an invitation. “Scoot over, Rena. Logan, sit down. You’re hovering like a malfunctioning drone.”
I don’t move. Audrey is right there, three feet away, and every synapse in my brain is firing contradictory instructions. Sit down. Run away. Apologize again. Don’t say anything.
“Logan.” Dominic’s voice is patient, the way it gets when he’s managing me through a social situation I’m failing at. “Sit. Down.”
I sit. At the end of the booth, as far from Audrey as I can get while still technically being at the same table. She’s studying the wood grain like it contains the secrets of the universe.
“Right.” Dominic flags down the bartender. “We’re going to need another round. Actually, make it two. And—” He squints at a chalkboard menu. “Are the cheese curds really the best west of Milwaukee?”
“That’s what the sign says,” the bartender replies, unimpressed.
“I know what the sign says. I’m just saying that I’ve eaten the cheese curds here many times. And I’m not certain of the legitimacy of your claim.”
The bartender rolls his eyes. “Don’t give me a hard time, Dom. I just work here. You gonna order some or not?”
“We’ll take two baskets.” Dominic’s already pulling out his phone. “And if we’re doing this, we’re doing it right.”
My stomach drops. “What are you doing?”
“Texting Bennett and Caleb.” He doesn’t look up. “If we’re having an impromptu group hang at O’Malley’s, everyone should be here.”
“Dominic, no—”
“Dominic, yes.” He hits send with a flourish.
“Bennett’s been stressed about the FDA thing all week.
Caleb’s been buried in depositions. They need this.
Hell, I need this. Simply because it hurts my feelings whenever there’s a group hang and I don’t get an invite.
” He coughs into his hand. “Dinner last night.” He glances pointedly at Layla and Serena then goes back to his phone.
“There. Invites sent. I like to be inclusive, so I told David to get his ass here too.”
“David has Michaela to worry about,” Serena puts in. “He’s too busy being a dad to drop everything for cheese curds in a dive bar.”
Dominic’s hand immediately shoots out to cover her mouth.
“Shhh,” he hisses. “Number one, David has a nanny. He can totally drop everything for cheese curds. And two, don’t you dare disrespect these hallowed halls and efforts of my good friend…
” He pauses and looks over at the bartender and squints to read his name tag.
“James? Jeff? Hmm. It’s definitely a J name. ”
Serena swats his hand away, but she’s fighting a laugh.
Dominic’s phone buzzes. “Bennett’s in. Says he’ll be here in fifteen.” Another buzz. “Caleb too. And—” He grins. “David says, and I quote, ‘What the hell is a cheese curd emergency and why is it happening on a Thursday?’”
“It’s Friday,” Layla says.
“Even better. Friday cheese curds hit different.” Dominic types a rapid response. “I told him to stop asking questions and just get here.”
“You’re ridiculous,” Serena says, but she’s smiling now.
“I’m a visionary. There’s a difference.”
The cheese curds arrive. Dominic makes a show of presenting them to the table as if they’re fine dining, complete with a gesture toward the bartender. “Courtesy of my good friend... J-something. Give it up for J-dog, everyone.”
The bartender flips him off on the way back to the bar. Dominic beams like he’s been handed a compliment.
I risk a glance at Audrey. She’s watching the exchange with an expression that’s somewhere between amused and exhausted. When she catches me looking, the amusement disappears. She reaches for a cheese curd and focuses very intently on eating it.
The silence at our end of the table is deafening.
Dominic, to his credit, fills it immediately. “So, Layla, how’s wedding planning? Bennett mentioned something about a cake tasting that made him question his will to live.”
“The cake tasting was fine. He’s just dramatic about sugar.”
“The man owns a billion-dollar company, and he’s afraid of buttercream?”
“He’s not afraid. He just has opinions.”
“Bennett has opinions about everything,” Serena says. “That’s his whole personality.”
“That and the brooding,” Dominic agrees. “Very strong brood game.”
The conversation flows around me while I sit there, useless, my pulse doing something erratic every time Audrey moves.
The way she reaches for her drink and holds the glass gently.
The way she tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, exposing the curve of her neck.
The way she laughs at something Serena says, head tipping back, throat long and pale in the bar light.
She used to laugh with me like that.
I realize I’m gripping my own glass hard enough to crack it and force my fingers to relax.
Bennett arrives first, still in his suit but with the tie loosened, looking like he’s been personally victimized by his own schedule. He surveys the bar with the expression of a man who’s never seen sticky floors before.
“This is... not what I expected.”
“Isn’t it great?” Dominic gestures expansively. “It’s got character.”
“It’s got something.” But Bennett’s already sliding in next to Layla, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You OK?”
“I’m fine. It’s been a weird afternoon.”
“I gathered.” His eyes flick to me, then to Audrey, then back to Layla. A whole conversation passes in that glance. “Cheese curds?”
“Apparently they’re the best west of Milwaukee.”
“According to the sign,” the bartender calls out. “Which I did not write and cannot verify.”
Bennett takes a cheese curd, chews thoughtfully, and nods. “These are actually exceptional.”
“Thank you!” The bartender throws his hands up. “Finally, someone with taste.”
Caleb and David arrive together ten minutes later. Caleb immediately pulls Serena into a kiss that makes Dominic groan, “Get a room, you animals,” while David hangs back, surveying the scene with visible confusion.
“OK.” He crosses his arms. “Someone explain why I left work early to attend a…” He glances at the neon sign. “A ‘cheese curd emergency’ at a bar I’ve never heard of.”
Dominic clears his throat, lifting a cheese curd as if for a toast. “Because, my dear David, you’re looking at the only people in Chicago who understand the importance of dairy-based critical situations. Also, we missed you.”
David’s clearly not buying it, but he takes a seat, politely accepting a beer from the next round the bartender brings. “Next time, maybe don’t be so dramatic. I thought something was on fire.”
“David, I would never summon you for anything less than a five-alarm social disaster,” Dominic says, leaning in with mock gravity. “Tonight’s topic: how to rescue innovation from mediocrity and avoid becoming corporate drones.”
Caleb raises his glass. “To innovation not requiring a suit and tie.” He’s already kicked back, elbow on the table, hand resting lightly on Serena’s knee.
“Is someone going to explain the real reason we’re all here when the sun is still up outside?” Bennett asks, gesturing to the grimy windows that lead to the street.
“To be fair,” Serena says, “this wasn’t planned. We all decided to play hooky for the afternoon and accidentally ended up at the same bar.”
“Accidentally.”
“It’s Dominic’s secret dive bar,” Layla explains. “Which he never told any of us about.”
“It wasn’t a secret. It just never came up.”
“You’ve been holding out on us for years,” Caleb says. “I’m genuinely offended.”
“You should be. These cheese curds are life-changing, and I’ve been selfishly hoarding them.” Dominic pushes a basket toward David. “Eat. Drink. Stop looking at us like we’ve lost our minds.”
“You have lost your minds.” But David takes a cheese curd, anyway.
Two hours later, the awkwardness has dissolved into something almost comfortable.
It’s the whiskey, probably. We’ve gone through enough rounds that I’ve lost count, and even the rigid line of Audrey’s shoulders has started to soften.
She’s laughing more now—real laughs, not polite ones—and at some point she ended up in a heated debate with Caleb about whether the legal system adequately protects intellectual property in biomedical research.
She’s winning. She’s always been good at arguing.
I’ve barely spoken. I’m better at listening, anyway. There’s something almost nice about being here, surrounded by people who know me—even if the one person I actually want to talk to is pretending I don’t exist.
“All right.” Dominic stands, slightly unsteady. “Logan. Pool. Rematch. I want to see this trajectory adjustment in action.”
I nod and follow him over to the billiards table. The laughter and voices recede a little, and I’m happy for the distance. Dominic racks, chalks his cue, and leans in close.
“You did good, Professor,” he says, voice low. “You showed up, you sat, you didn’t make it weird.”
“I think it was already weird.”
He shrugs. “That’s just our baseline. You handled yourself. Proud of you for that.”
I focus on the felt, the angle of the cue ball, the warp of the table. It’s easier than looking Dominic in the eye.
“How are you actually doing now she’s back?” he asks, half-mumbling it as he lines up his break.
“Fine.”
He gives me a look. “If I wanted the PR answer, I’d text Bennett. How are you, really?”
What does he want me to say? That every time Audrey looks through me, it feels like being deleted.
He breaks, scatters the balls, sinks a stripe with a clack. I watch the spin, my own brain retreating into calculations, safe. “I’m not sure she’s really back,” I say. “The real Audrey. The one I remember.”
Dominic steadies himself with the cue, lining up his next shot. “What, you think Sweden swapped her out with a pod person?”