Page 43 of Misfortune and Mr. Right

“Of course,” Logan says, the familiar stoic expression returning to his face. “I’ll just … get my mail. Do you want to …?” He holds the end of the leash out to me like some weird peace offering. And if Rhett weren’t attached to the other end, I’d drop that leather strap to the ground faster than you can say lobstah roll.

But Rhettisattached to the other end, so I take the leash and rip my eyes away from Logan so I can lose myself in his adorable dog again for the next few moments.

Rhett doesn’t attempt to follow Logan. He just snuggles deeper into my lap and leans on me like this tiny weighted blanket of cuteness. Then he looks up at me with those expressive eyes, and I swear he’s sayingI love you, very, very much.

I lean my head down to his ear and say, “I know it’s quick, and we’ve only just met, but I love you too. Sometimes you just know. You know?”

Rhett turns and snorts right against my cheek, following the snort with a lick of his tiny little tongue. It’s not too gross, really more endearing than anything. This dog adores me. I need to plan a way to rescue him from his objectionable owner.

“I hate to break this up,” Logan says. He’s back to towering over me and Rhett, killing our moment. “But I’ve got to get to sleep. I’m on a long run tomorrow before work.”

Rhett pops up and trots over to Logan.

Okay. Okay. So the doglikesLogan. He knows who feeds him. It’s obvious helovesme.

Logan bends to pick up the leash, and a card falls from the top of his mail stack.

It lands next to my knee.

When Logan and I see the words on the announcement, our eyes lock.

Chapter Twelve

Logan

I went through a lot of battles in high school.

~ LeBron James

The stiff,laminated card lays there, like a neon sign, blinking at us from the lobby floor.

Save the Date!

It’s the 10-year class reunion

of Sweethaven High

Come relive your favorite memories!

Olivia looks up at me from her spot on the ground, where she was unabashedly doting on my dog and talking about how she loves a man who cuddles.

I haven’t pictured cuddling with Olivia Pennington since my momentary crush on her ten years ago—the same ten years being celebrated this month at our alma mater. And now, for some reason, I can’t stop picturing cuddling with her. We could grab dinner, take it to my place, put on a movie, and I’d wrap my arm around her while we sat on my couch. She could lean into me. I’d hold her …

I shake my head lightly in an attempt to dislodge this ridiculous line of thought. As if Olivia would ever cuddle with me. She’ll barely share the same air.

And now we have our class reunion … an event that will showcase our history together, probably pouring fuel on her already burning resentment toward me.

Olivia snatches up her pile of mail, thumbing through it and finding the same announcement addressed to her. She stands up, holds the card in the air, and waves it at me.

“Yippee,” she deadpans.

“It could be fun.”

“Right. For some of us.”

I feel my brow crinkle. “Didn’t you love high school? I always thought you did.”

She pauses. “I did. Mostly.”

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