Page 64 of Misfortune and Mr. Right

My Logan?

What is the hitch here?

What’s in it for him?

He wasn’t even mentioned as a donor or sponsor for this event.

He could take credit. And he didn’t.

A seismic shift tilts and cracks the foundation of everything I’ve ever believed about him. I’m disoriented. Nearly dizzy. If Logan is capable of this kind of goodness with no personal gain, is he really the man who purposely undermined me at every turn? The two pieces don’t fit in the same puzzle. I’m stymied—almost numb from the cognitive dissonance.

Which man is he?

If he’s the man I’ve assumed him to be all along, I know how to function around him. We engage in battles. I keep my guard up. I never let him see me sweat.

But if Logan is this other man, the generous philanthropist, thoughtful, reserved, and possibly even humble, I don’t know how I’ll survive. How will I resist him? Do I even want to? And if I don’t, what might he do to my heart?

The big question remaining is this: Can I trust Logan Alexander?

Logan and I dance around one another the rest of the night. We don’t dancewithone another again—of course we don’t. My eyes drift toward him of their own will. Sometimes he’s looking at me, at other times he’s engaged in conversation. And by engaged, I mean he’s standing in a group, barely enduring the social connections going on around him. But I watch him and try to discern which version is the real Logan.

The next day, Megan, Lynette, and I meet at the park while Cassidy plays with a friend on the playground. Megan’s dead set on discussing Logan and the dance I shared with him. Lynette is fully invested, like a housewife keeping up with her daily soap operas.

I’ve got a bigger agenda—something not related to Logan Alexander at all.

“I’ve been thinking,” I say, interrupting Megan’s regaling of the way Logan spun me out and pulled me back toward himself at the end of our dance.

“What?” Lynette asks.

“About your rent.”

“What about it? I have no rent … not for three months. I’m socking away all I can so I can pull from my reserves when I finally have to start paying again.”

“Aren’t you curious as to who paid for it?” I ask.

“Of course I am. But I can’t figure it out, so I decided it might as well have been an angel from heaven. I’m not looking a gift horse in the mouth. If they wanted me to know who they were, they would tell me. Maybe they want to remain anonymous.”

“True …” I almost agree. “But I still would feel better knowing who it is.”

“Why?” Megan asks.

“Because then we’ll know if their motives are pure.”

“What other kinds of motives could they have besides pure ones?” Megan asks.

“I don’t know. It’s just so out of the blue. And huge. I want to know who this is so I can rest.”

“What do you suggest?” Lynette asks, half-heartedly.

“I think we need to call your landlord. Ask some questions. Tell him it wasn’t your boyfriend since you don’t have one.”

“I don’t want to bug Joe,” Lynette says.

“Mommy!” Cassidy calls from the swings. “Watch me go high!”

“I’m watching, sweetie!” Lynette yells back from our spot on the bench.

“I’m not talking about bugging him,” I say. “It can’t hurt to ask a few questions, right? The worst thing that could happen is he’ll tell us he doesn’t want to disclose anything.”

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