5. Serena
5
SERENA
H ow is this man still hot, even when he’s a complete douchebag?
I sigh inwardly as Abby and I make candy necklaces.
She’s such a sweet little girl. She’s been through a lot.
“Abby, can you say thank you to Serena? We need to get going to dinner so that you can get to bed on time.”
“Can Serena come to dinner?” Abby asks.
Logan’s eyes widen in shock, and I stifle a giggle.
“I’m sure she has plenty to do tonight,” he says without looking over at me.
“Serena, pleeeeeeaassssseeeeee,” Abby begs as she tugs at my arm.
“Where are you going?”
“Ramiro’s Pizza,” Logan answers.
“That’s actually right by my apartment. I would love to have dinner with you, Abby.”
“Don’t feel like you have to,” he says softly.
“Yayyyy!” Abby squeals excitedly.
“We can talk about your party a little more,” I tell her with a wink.
I hear Logan sigh.
“Perfect. Would you like to meet us there?”
“I closed everything out earlier, so I’m ready to go now. I can clean this up in the morning.”
“Very well,” he grumbles.
Okay, so maybe I only said yes because I know how much it will bother him.
The warm glow of the family pizza restaurant washes over us as we step inside, followed by the familiar sound of laughter and clinking dishes. It’s a place where the smell of bubbling cheese and fresh dough mingles with the distant murmur of conversation, a comforting ambiance that feels like home.
“I didn’t realize you had such a family vibe.”
He chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Well, I guess everyone has their softer side. This is Abby’s favorite spot.”
A waitress walks us to a booth. She leaves us a Spider-Man coloring book. Logan orders drinks and a pizza before the server takes off again.
“My party is going to be amazing! I’m going to wear my Spider-Man unicorn costume, and we’re going to have a cake with Spider-Man on it. And balloons and games and?—”
Logan laughs, ruffling Abby’s hair. “She’s been talking about this party non-stop. I’m not sure if she’s more excited about the cake or the costume.”
I glance at Logan, seeing a different side of him as he interacts with Abby. He’s much more patient and engaged, a far cry from the jerk of a man I’m used to. It’s endearing, and I can’t help but be intrigued by this new facet of his personality.
“So, tell me more about this party,” I say, returning my attention to Abby. “What else would you like there?”
Abby’s eyes sparkle as she launches into a detailed description. “We’re going to have a pi?ata, and it’s going to be shaped like Spider-Man! And there will be a bounce house, and a magician who does tricks with cards and rabbits. Oh, and my friends are all coming, and we’re going to play tag and eat lots of pizza!”
“Sounds like it’s going to be a blast,” I comment, genuinely impressed. “I’m sure it’s going to be the best party ever.”
She nods vigorously, clearly pleased with my enthusiasm. “Yeah! I’m so excited!”
As Abby goes back to her coloring, Logan and I settle into the booth, breadsticks in front of us. The conversation shifts naturally to a more adult tone, though I can’t help but glance at Abby every now and then, admiring how she’s clearly the center of Logan’s attention.
“So,” I begin, breaking the comfortable silence, “how did you get roped into all this party planning?”
Logan raises an eyebrow, his lips curling into a half-smile. “I’m Funcle Logan. Abby’s got me wrapped around her little finger.”
“Seems like you’re handling it well,” I say. “I didn’t know you were such a... doting uncle.”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, she’s got a way of bringing out the best in people. It’s a nice change of pace from work.”
“You don’t seem like the type to get all into birthday parties,” I remark, trying to gauge his true feelings. “What made you get so involved?”
Logan takes a sip of his drink, considering his response. “Honestly? It’s because of Abby. She’s been through a lot, and if I can make her happy, it’s worth it. Plus, I kind of like seeing her so excited about something.”
“That’s sweet,” I say, touched by his sincerity. “I guess there’s more to you than meets the eye.”
Logan’s gaze softens, and he shrugs slightly. “Everyone’s got layers, right? I’m just glad to be able to make her smile.”
Abby’s attention shifts back to us as she eagerly grabs a breadstick.
“Yum!” she exclaims, taking a big bite. “These are the best!”
Logan laughs again, clearly enjoying this slice of normalcy. “I think she could live on these breadsticks if we let her.”
I look at Logan, noticing how much he seems to genuinely enjoy Abby’s company. It’s like I’m seeing him in a new light, one that contradicts the more guarded, brusque persona I’m used to.
“You know,” I say, trying to keep the conversation light, “You’d get a lot more accomplished in life if you weren’t always such a…a tough guy.
Logan raises an eyebrow. “Tough guy? Really?”
“Yeah,” I admit, “you seem like you have this tough exterior. But seeing you with Abby, you’re... different. More... human. And that was the nicest word I could think of in front of Abby.”
Logan’s smile widens, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Is that a compliment or an observation?”
“Both, I guess,” I reply with a grin. “It’s just nice to see a different side of you.”
Before he can respond, Abby pipes up, her face brimming with excitement. “Guess what? I’m going to have a Spider-Man cake, too! And my friends are all coming, and we’re going to play musical chairs and?—”
Logan cuts in gently, “Okay, okay, Abby. We get it. Your party’s going to be epic.”
She giggles, her enthusiasm never waning. “It’s going to be the best party ever! You’ll be there too, right?”
I laugh, charmed by her energy. “I can certainly try. I’ll make sure to bring my best Spider-Man impersonation.”
Abby’s eyes widen. “Yes! You have to wear a costume! It’s going to be so much fun!”
“I’ll think about it,” I say, grinning. “But no promises. I don’t think I can pull off a Spider-Man unicorn like you can.”
As we continue to chat and enjoy the delicious food, I find myself increasingly drawn into the warmth of the evening. Logan’s usual demeanor is set aside for the moment, revealing a side of him that’s caring and attentive, especially towards Abby. It’s a refreshing change and gives me a new perspective on him.
I don’t need a different perspective on him. I need to steer clear of him. He’s an absolute jerk.
But if Abby loves me and my store, then maybe she can keep him from closing it.
Great, I’m relying on a four-year-old with no attention span for help.
“Alright, what’s next on the agenda?” I ask, looking around at the empty plates and half-eaten food.
Logan checks his watch and then looks at Abby. “I think we’re about ready to head out, give Abby a chance to burn off some energy. How about a quick stop for ice cream?”
Abby’s face lights up again. “Yes, yes, yes!”
I glance at Logan, who’s watching Abby with a mix of amusement and affection. “You really do spoil her, don’t you?”
Logan shrugs, his expression softening. “What can I say? She’s worth it.”
As we prepare to leave, I can’t help but feel a newfound appreciation for Logan. The evening has shown me a different side of him, one that’s kind and nurturing and deeply invested in his niece’s happiness. It’s a side I hadn’t seen before. Of course, I haven’t spilled anything on him yet tonight.
“Thanks for dinner, Logan,” I say, standing up and stretching. “And for letting me be part of Abby’s world tonight.”
“Anytime,” he replies, giving me a warm smile. “I’m glad you could join us.”
“Me too.”
“I can drop you off, so you’re not walking alone at night.”
“Oh no,” I laugh. “I’m really right around the corner.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, thanks, though. It’s been nice seeing this side of you,” I smile.
Abby gives me a quick hug and I part from the two of them.
Damn, I wish he would have tried to kiss me.
I look up from the cluttered display shelf when I hear someone come in. My hands are smeared with a mix of flour and sugar. The shop is a mess, as usual, with boxes of inventory stacked haphazardly and items scattered across every available surface. It’s a charming kind of chaos that I’ve grown accustomed to, but it’s definitely not the image I’d like to present to a potential customer.
I glance at the entrance, expecting to see someone looking for fudge or something else entirely off their diet. Instead, Logan strolls in, his eyes scanning the disarray with an unreadable expression. He’s dressed in his usual Armani suit, which only contrasts further with the state of my shop.
“Hey, Serena,” he says, his voice carrying a note of casual curiosity. “I thought I’d stop by and see how things are going.”
“Hey,” I reply, grabbing a pile that’s about to topple over. “Just tidying up. What’s up?”
Would he visit any party planner this much?
For someone who thinks my shop is an eyesore, he’s here an awful lot.
He takes a few steps toward the counter, his gaze shifting from the disorganized shelves to the stacks of boxes. “Well, I didn’t expect to find you in the middle of a tornado.”
I smirk at his attempt to mask his criticism. “It’s not as bad as it looks. I know exactly where everything is.”
Logan raises an eyebrow, his eyes lingering on a pile of misplaced stock. “Really? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like barely organized chaos.”
I pause for a moment, considering how to respond. “It’s organized chaos, but it works for me. I can find whatever I need, even if it doesn’t look perfect. Progress over perfection, right?”
He scoffs lightly, shaking his head. “You’ve got to admit, though, it’s a bit of a mess. How do you even run a business like this? Customers must be baffled.”
I let out a soft laugh, shaking my head. “It’s not a mess to me, and it doesn’t seem to bother my regular customers either. They know what to expect and appreciate the personal touch.”
Logan walks further into the shop, his eyes scanning the disarray with a critical eye.
“Personal touch or not, this place is overflowing with inventory. How do you keep track of what you actually need and what you don’t? This is way more than a small shop should carry.”
I follow him, picking up a stray box from the floor. “I keep track of everything through a system I’ve set up. It might not be the most conventional, but it works. And as for the inventory, it’s my choice to have a variety of items available. It helps me cater to a wider audience.”
Logan’s gaze lingers on a shelf that’s leaning precariously. “And how’s that working out for you? It looks like you’re drowning in stock that’s probably just gathering dust. Don’t they have a best-by date? How much do you throw away?”
I shoot him a pointed look, trying to keep my tone even. “I don’t throw anything away. I donate it.”
He shoots me a look.
“How much money are you losing?”
“I have a loyal customer base that appreciates having options. Just because the shop isn’t up to your standards doesn’t mean it’s not successful.”
“Maybe, but from a business perspective, it’s not ideal. You might attract more customers if you cleaned up and organized better.”
The audacity of this man.
Who in the hell does he think he is?
“It’s a matter of perspective. I value the personal relationships I build with my customers over a pristine store layout. And honestly, they come here for the unique items and the atmosphere, not just for a perfectly organized space.”
Logan’s lips twitch into a half-smile that feels more condescending than reassuring. “I get that you have your way of doing things, but if you ever want to grow or improve, you might need to reconsider some of your methods. A little organization can go a long way.”
I raise an eyebrow, crossing my arms. “And a little flexibility can go a long way too. My system might not be textbook, but it’s been working for me for years. Sometimes, the traditional approach isn’t the only way to succeed.”
He sighs. “Alright, fair enough. But if you ever want any advice on streamlining things, I’m happy to offer some pointers.”
I give him a polite smile, feeling satisfied with my composure. “I appreciate the offer, but for now, I think I’ll stick to what I know. Thanks for stopping by, though.”
“I didn’t mean to come off as overly critical. I just thought I’d offer some help. But if you’re happy with how things are, that’s all that matters.”
“Exactly,” I reply, feeling a bit more at ease. “I appreciate the concern, but I’ve got things under control.”
He nods, still looking around but clearly ready to leave. “Alright, Serena. I guess I’ll leave you to your ‘organized chaos.’ But seriously, don't hesitate to reach out if you change your mind about getting some advice.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say with a smile.
He chuckles, heading toward the door. “No problem. I’ll see you around.”
As the bell jingles again and he steps out, I sigh in relief. The encounter was a bit challenging, but I’m proud of how I handled it. It’s always a balancing act to defend my unconventional methods while being open to constructive criticism.
Except it wasn’t constructive criticism. It was him being an asshole.
I return to tidying up the shop, focusing on getting things back into some semblance of order. The mess might sometimes be a bit overwhelming, but it reflects my unique approach to running this place. And as long as my customers are happy and my business is thriving, that’s what really counts.
As I work, I think about Logan’s visit and his comments. A part of me wonders if he’s right—if there’s room for improvement in how I run things. But for now, I’m content with my approach and the personal touch that defines my shop.
The bell above the door jingles once more, and I look up, ready to greet the next customer with a warm smile and a bit of the organized chaos that makes my shop uniquely mine.