Page 121 of Misfortune and Mr. Right

I sigh and run my hands through my hair again.

Olivia looks away, staring out the window.

“I have always admired you,” I tell her. “In high school, I was immature and young. But I still admired you. Competing with you always pushed me to achieve more.”

She glances back at me.

I hold her gaze.

We’re quiet, staring at one another.

I want to shout at that cookie. How could it even ask me what was more important? Olivia is more important—than any job or any other thing in my life.

“I never meant to overshadow you. I have an inner drive to win. The idea of rejecting an opportunity I’ve worked hard for never occurred to me. I lost sight of what matters most. I didn’t know you were being considered. I should have asked—or assumed. I’m a severe case of the worst kind of tunnel vision.”

“I’m really tired, Logan. I don’t think we’re going to resolve this in a conversation. I believe you didn’t intentionally steal this position from me. I thought you knew I wanted it. I don’t know why you didn’t pause to think of me. Everyone else there knows I was a prime candidate.”

I don’t have anything to say. I should have considered her. Of course, I should have. She’s amazing at what she does. She’s been there, proving herself, for years. I assumed she wasn’t interested, and I gunned for the position as soon as Darwin let me know I was in the running.

Olivia’s face is softer—not exactly open, but not as closed off.

She looks at me and says, “When I left Barnes today, I was under the impression you knew I was a candidate. Darwin said it came down to the two of us. I thought you were totally aware I was shooting my shot. I felt betrayed. Like you ripped the rug out from under me.”

“If I had known you were interested in the position, I would have talked with you about it.”

Olivia’s quiet. Her feet are still up on the couch, her arms wrapped around her knees. She looks young and vulnerable, completely unlike the dynamic powerhouse she’s capable of being.

I sit back in the chair, attempting to give Olivia space to think. I have a feeling she’s about to ask me to leave. And I wonder if I’ll ever be asked back here once I walk out her door.

“I just need time to process everything,” she says.

“Take all the time you need. I can just stay in this chair. I’ll text my dog walker. She can feed Rhett and take him out a few extra times a day for me. I’ll be here, waiting. You’ll barely notice me.”

“Logan.” Her voice is only slightly amused before her face falls again.

“You want me to go?”

She looks at me and nods. Her ambivalence is my only hope.

I want to tell her what she means to me. I’ll do whatever it takes to win her back.

I know Olivia—well. She needs time. The only thing I can do is wait and hope she sees my heart—because it belongs to her.

“You deserve time to process everything,” I say softly.

I hold her gaze, hoping my eyes convey what’s in my heart.

“Thank you.”

I ache to reach out to her, so I shove my hands in my pockets, finding the cookie remnants in one, a tangible reminder of what matters most and what I must do to win her back.

This isn’t only about the promotion.

It’s really about a pattern between us. One I thought we had outgrown and moved past.

Olivia wanted the promotion. Of course she did. I was blind and careless not to consider her. If we had talked to each other first, we would have avoided this reenactment of all the times I overlooked her feelings. Instead, I reopened a wound. And now I have to be a part of healing it—if she’ll let me.

“I don’t want to lose you,” I say as I stand from my chair. “I’d rather lose anything than you.”

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