Page 45 of Misfortune and Mr. Right

“Goodnight, Alexander.”

“What about your fortune?” I ask, in shock.

“What about yours?” she retorts.

“Yeah. You’re right. I’ve got an early run.”

Olivia turns and stalks back toward me and Rhett.

“On the count of three, we swap papers,” she says. “And you will never—I repeat, never—mention this cookie to me again. Ever. It’s silly. Ridiculous, actually. It’s just a random cookie. You’ll see.”

“Deal,” I promise her.

Whatever hers says, it can’t be worse than mine. But as she said, these are silly cookies. Irrelevant. We won’t mention them again.

“You won’t mention mine either,” I tell her.

“Deal,” she says with a terse nod of her head.

I hold my paper out in my hand, and she plucks it away then sets hers in its place. Her fingers brush across my palm, and I feel the contact everywhere. No one has ever affected me like she does.

Maybe she’s not Catwoman. She’s Poison Ivy. And I’m highly allergic.

I pinch the paper and turn it so I can read the inscription.

The love of your life will appear in front of you unexpectedly.

She glances up at me at the same time as I look in her direction.

“Crazy, right?” she says with a forced laugh.

“Yep. Silly.”

“Okay, well … Goodnight, Logan.”

Logan. She used my first name.

“Goodnight, Olivia.”

I turn toward my apartment, and Olivia walks toward hers.

The next week, Olivia is … neutral. We don’t mention those weird cookies. But occasionally, I catch her staring at me like I’m a puzzle. One morning, midweek, we end up on the same path during our morning run. I don’t race her. Surprisingly, she doesn’t run away from me. Instead, we silently jog side by side for a stretch. Anyone watching us might think we planned to run together.

When we reach the block that leads back to The Serendipity, Olivia picks up her pace. I match hers and then add a little push. We race back to the steps. I stop in front of our building only moments before Olivia. We’re both panting and out of breath. She ignores me as she does some stretches. I give her space and go through my cool down routine at the opposite side of the steps. When Olivia finishes, she walks up the stairs without a word or a glance in my direction. I’m grateful she doesn’t turn around to see the irrepressible smile on my face.

Maybe Olivia is Catwoman after all. She’s definitely catlike. She might give you the time of day, but don’t let her know you noticed, or she’ll hiss at you and possibly show her claws. But she’s also like a kitten, playful and bright … and cuddly. Only, not cuddly with me. I need to remember that.

Charlie, Olivia, and I have been collaborating on the Untethered project over the past week and a half with some other coworkers Darwin assigned to help with project execution. We’re meeting with a few people from the Untethered team today. We’ve prepared slides and an interactive presentation, and Olivia has developed a new logo, emphasizing the letters U and N in untethered.

We join the team in the conference room. After greetings, Olivia opens her laptop to start the slideshow.

Instead of the new logo, a photo of Olivia on the precipice of a cliff shows up on the screen. She’s got her arms outstretched and her head thrown back. The sun is filtering through the sky, hitting her hair just right so it looks like wavy brown spun silk.

“Oh, uh … ” Olivia says when she sees the picture on the screen.

She quickly clicks the mouse pad and another personal photo pops up. This time she’s still hiking, and she’s making a goofy face at the camera.

“Uh, so … ” Olivia stutters.

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