Page 11 of Take It Offline

Logan Senior must be delighted.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he says.

Yes, what a complete coincidence that I in no way hoped for.

I duck my head. “I remember how much you love it.”

He leans in and lowers his voice conspiratorially. “Let me guess, you had the piccata.”

“Guilty as charged,” I admit, pleased he remembered. “It’s too good to pass up.”

Logan appraises me, his expression intent. “Some things are.”

My skin heats. Oh, how I’ve missed this. “How was Europe?”

He shrugs, casual. “The same. Ate too much pasta, drank too much wine…”

“Raised your father’s blood pressure by not working enough,” I finish for him and am delighted when he laughs.

There’s been a lonely ache in my life since he broke it off, and while I’ve tried to ignore it, it’s the reason I picked this place for lunch. Seeing him again and making him smile only makes it more obvious I’ve missed him.

Is it too much to hope he misses me too?

“How are you?” he asks. “Your folks are all right?”

“I’m good,” I say, breezing past the second question. I never told Logan the truth about my parents’ financial state, and I still feel guilty about it. “At least as good as I can be before the ‘event season’ starts.”

He smiles knowingly. Our parents have been friends for over a decade and have worked together on my parents’ foundation, hosting every party under the sun. “I’m sorry I missed the garden party last month. It was always more enjoyable with you. Although Mom mentions the upcoming fundraiser every chance she gets.”

“Will you come this year? My parents would love to see you.”Please say yes.“So would I.”

He doesn’t respond right away. Just studies me.

My breathing picks up as I wait. In the year we were together, it was easy to read him, but now I can only wonder… and hope.

God, if he gives me the standard “let’s catch up soon” line—otherwise known as the polite way of saying “I hate you and never want to see you again”—I might melt into the carpet out of humiliation.

His eyes fill with a mix of sympathy and pity. I’m suddenly sure he’s about to let me down gently, and after this week, I can’t stand to hear it.

“Besides, it’ll be good to show our parents that we’ve both moved on,” I rush out, and before I know it, I’m adding, “Especially now that I’m seeing someone.”

Oh, hello. There is the hungry look I remember.

“That’s news,” he says in a neutral voice, but my pulse is skipping. Maybe I shouldn’t have lied, but the proof is there. He hasn’t forgotten us either.

I might stand a chance of getting him back.

“It’s early, but it’s going well. Really well.”

“I’m glad.” But the strain in his smile says otherwise. “I guess I’ll see you soon, then. You really do look good.”

As he kisses my cheek, I’m enveloped in his thick, woodsy aftershave. I breathe deeply, as though there might be a way to hold a piece of him when he leaves, some faint connection to tide me over until I can get him back.

When he turns to leave, I force myself not to watch him go.

Ivy clears her throat. “Have you been hiding a boyfriend I don’t know about?”

“Yes,” I say, sliding back into my seat. “I let him out Tuesdays and Thursdays. It keeps him from getting stale.”

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