Page 7 of Misfortune and Mr. Right

Yay! I’m so glad. It’s not Gran’s place, but I guess that wasn’t meant 2B.

I laugh.

OLIVIA

We need to get out more often.

MEGAN:

I’m always saying that. But first, a housewarming is in order. When do you move in?

OLIVIA

Not sure. The woman who works for the owner is sending me all the details in an email. I’ll get on it right now. She says it’s mine as soon as I turn in my deposit. But, good news … the rent is a little lower because it’s a tad smaller. So, everything worked out.

MEGAN

I told you. It was your good luck.

OLIVIA

Sure. Let’s go with that.

MEGAN

I’m going to quote you on that.

I smile and set down my cell just as a hush comes over the room. It’s odd, like the feeling just before a tornado touches down to demolish everything in its path.

Every eye in the room turns toward the door—including mine.

Right there, just inside the doorway, stands my boss, Darwin. And next to him, with a deceptively warm but cool look on his face stands Logan Alexander. At my workplace.

Okay, Monday. This is just cruel. A genuine bait-and-switch. I take it all back. You’re the Mondayest Monday that ever Mondayed.

Darwin clears his throat. Lydia, our sweet but fierce head of HR, comes through the door just behind Darwin and Logan. Logan’s features never change. Of course they don’t. He’s always got that Mona Lisa look about him—like he’s half smiling, half plotting your death, half constipated. Yes. That’s three halves. There’s more to Logan Alexander than meets the eye. He doesn’t math.

And his presence for sure doesn’t math. Why ishehere? Why is hehere?

“Good morning,” Darwin says with a beaming smile. “I’ve got some great news for our team.”

He claps Logan on the back, and my ears start to ring. I feel dizzy, so I sit down on the stool at the worktable. When did I stand up? I don’t even know. Everyone else is standing, as if they’re in the presence of royalty. Unbeknownst to them, they’re in the presence of a royal pain in the tush, as Gran used to say.

Gran knew all about Logan. Of course, in her naive and amiable way, she’d occasionally ask me if I was sure Logan was as malicious and conniving as I imagined him to be. I’d regale her with the latest tale of his undermining antics, and she’d recant all hope.

“Logan Alexander has come to join our team,” Darwin says with the same enthusiasm and pride as a winner of an Academy Award. “We scooped him up from Omnipresent as a digital marketing specialist. He’ll be taking Justin’s place.”

The people around me cheer as if they all just got the day off with pay. They have no idea.

Time slows.

Logan’s eyes meet and hold mine. I stare back, my face a mask—hopefully a mask as impenetrable as his. The room melts away. Sound ceases. I’m locked in, unable to tear my gaze from his. I don’t even know if I’m blinking. Those eyes—grey-blue with specks of what looks like navy around the iris. I know. I’ve stared him down innumerable times over the years, in debate team, on race day, during speech class, and at graduation, when we both were applauded for our accomplishments on the same stage in front of our classmates.

Logan breaks the staring match, which in the animal kingdom would mean I won. But of course it doesn’t mean that here. He chose to look away, to smile at Darwin instead of holding my gaze. He took the power and chose not to acknowledge me any further. With one minute gesture, he swatted me away like the pest he thinks I am.

I sit on my stool, wondering if I actually woke up this morning. Maybe this is a lucid dream—or more accurately, a lucid nightmare. I pinch my thigh and say, “Ouch,” causing a few heads to turn.

“Nothing,” I whisper. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.” If by fine you mean my life just crashed in the equivalent of a near-fatal accident.

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