Page 133 of Take It Offline

“Tell me they’re not.”

I tip back the last mouthful of champagne in my glass, but unfortunately, the bubbles don’t erase my memory. “They are.”

She covers her mouth and shakes with giggles. “Oh my god. Cheers to Mr. and Mrs. Conway.”

It’s so ridiculous I can’t help but smile. This is why Ivy is one of my favorite people. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

She sets her empty glass down. “Not as glad as I am. Ciara hasn’t stopped calling me since Mom moved in to help with the baby, like she didn’t ask her to. If only we could harness our parents’ powers for good, we could solve anything, or at least exhaust whoever opposes us until they give up.”

I chuckle. “Remember that when it’s your turn.”

“I’m warning you now, if I ever get married, I plan on eloping. In the middle of the night. In another country.”

It’s so her I can’t picture it happening any other way. “As long as you’re prepared to be called on as a witness when my parents find out I don’t want children.”

“To frustrating our parents,” she toasts with a laugh.

“If you’re conspiring,” says a familiar British accent from behind me, “I’d like to offer my services.”

Well, well, well. Here’s a face I haven’t seen in a while. “Lincoln Bartholomew Reeves, how did you get past security?”

With a laugh, he wraps me up in a tight hug. “That might be your worst guess yet.” In the years since I last saw him, he’s grown his hair out and gained a tan. Probably skippering a boat around the isles, knowing Lincoln. “As if I was going to miss your parents’ last hoorah.”

I turn to Ivy. “Lincoln’s the closest thing to a brother I have. His family owns the estate next door, but he’s been MIA for the last few years.”

“More like an older cousin you still talk to,” he says, all his attention on Ivy as he holds a hand out to her. “And the pleasure is all mine.”

“We’ll see” is all Ivy says. She slips her hand into his, but she doesn’t give her name. She’s regarding Lincoln like he’s an abstract painting and she’s trying to work out whether he’s been hung upside down.

I file that away for later.

It takes Logan another hour, where he does little else except watch us, before he extricates himself and walks over. Whatever game he’s playing, it makes no difference to me. The result is the same.

I’ve moved on.

I give Ivy the okay, and she heads off in search of another drink.

“I believe a happy birthday is in order,” he says as he passes me a glass of red wine. I make a mental note to throw it into the planter beside me when he’s distracted.

“How are you?” The shorter this exchange is, the better.

“Honestly, I’ve been feeling a little neglected,” he pouts. “You’re a hard person to get a hold of lately.”

“I’ve already told you multiple times; I’m not interested.”

Logan is the same as he’s ever been. Still charming, rich, personable.

But he’s not who I want anymore.

He doesn’t make me laugh the way Charlie does, doesn’t challenge me, or debate with me about the moral implications of eating an animal cookie head first.

He never loved me the way Charlie does.

“You have,” he says, “but I think you should reconsider.”

I’m head over heels for Charlie, even if the short-sighted asshole would rather bury his head in the sand than touch an emotion.

But all problems have solutions, right? And Charlie’s always telling me what a great problem-solver I am.

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