Page 36 of Misfortune and Mr. Right

I’d lower my arms and try to get out of my boxed-in situation, but I’m afraid any movement will make me look like I’m reenacting my own birth—which I absolutely don’t want to do in front of Logan while he stands there with the smug look of someone who finished being born twenty-eight years ago.

“Logan’s ordering for everyone on the new project … and for Darwin,” Charlie says. “Lunch is on Logan.”

I mutter, “Of course it is.”

Charlie walks toward me to help me out of this box.

His expression says I’m being unnecessarily difficult.

“Fine. He can buy me lunch,” I huff out.

Logan mercifully nods once and walks away instead of sticking around to witness Charlie wrestle me to my feet while I’m still bent at the waist, the box molded to my backside. Charlie pries the cardboard from my rear end, and I’m finally free.

“Thank you, Charlie. You’re the best.”

“And you’re the most entertaining.”

I close my eyes and let out a long breath.

Charlie adds, “And also the best. Seriously. Don’t let him get to you. You’re better than that. And everyone here knows it.”

Leave it to Logan to butter up the team. Such a showboater. I don’t need to stoop to bribes from one of the best delis in town. My coworkers already know and love me. Soon enough they’ll see past the veneer of Logan’s so-called generosity. At least, I hope they will.

That evening, just as she promised, Megan stops by with take-out Chinese. We’re sitting around my coffee table eating straight out of the containers with chopsticks.

“There’s nothing like Kung Pao to soften the blow of a hard day at work,” I say through a bite.

“And chow mein,” Megan adds.

“Definitely,” I agree, reaching across the table to grab a bite of noodles.

“Well …” Megan says with a certain twinkle in her eye that tells me she’s up to mischief. “I took the liberty of doing something on your behalf.”

“What?”

“Nope. I’m not giving you the details. You’ll just have to see.”

“Megs.”

“Hmm?”

“You can’t just tell a person you took the liberty of doing something and then not tell what that something is.”

“Okay, okay.” She waggles her eyebrows and smiles a devious grin. “There should be a delivery arriving for a certain neighbor of yours.”

“Megan, what did you do?”

“Just consider it turn-about for the slime in your locker.”

“In high school? I already retaliated for that. Remember the itching powder?”

“Well, then, consider it his karma for taking that apartment.”

“Logan didn’t know it was Gran’s place. How could he have known I wanted it?”

Megan makes a pouting face. “Are you on his side now?”

“No. Not at all. It’s just … I don’t want to stir the pot. We’re not in high school anymore—or even college. We don’t need to be pranking one another. We’re grown adults.”

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