Page 78 of Misfortune and Mr. Right

I feel my face flush simply at the thought of him holding me so proficiently, swaying me, tugging me near, looking down into my eyes, twirling me away and drawing me back to himself.

I let out a barely recognizable sigh.

Am I really sighing over Logan Alexander?

I walk to my bathroom, and my jaw nearly drops when I pull back the shower curtain. I have a rain head—one of those broad, burnished brass ones with so many holes you can barely count them. And there’s an extension below. A handheld sprayer with various settings for massage or whatever they’re for. I don’t even know. I’ll have to google what to do with a shower wand with all those settings.

I turn on the shower, and the water comes on. And then I adjust the temperature. Hot water rains down so quickly, steam starts to fill the room.

Hot water! It feels like Christmas.

And the strangest sensation comes over me when I turn off the faucet.

I don’t want to call Megan.

I don’t think of texting Lynette.

I want to run through the lounge and knock on 2B so I can tell Logan.

Instead, I show some restraint. I send him a text.

OLIVIA

Guess what?!

LOGAN

I’m really bad at guessing games.

OLIVIA

Humor me.

LOGAN

You fell in love with Rhett, so you adopted a Boston terrier puppy.

OLIVIA

No, but that’s not a completely far-fetched idea. Unfortunately, I wouldn’t feel good about leaving a dog alone all those hours in my apartment. No offense. Rhett seems mostly unscarred. Back to your guesses. Try again.

LOGAN

FYI, I hire a dog walker who comes twice a day. She spoils Rhett, and the rest of the time, I’m pretty sure he sleeps.

OLIVIA

Well, until I can afford a dog walker, I will hold off on indulging my burgeoning Boston terrier obsession. Are you going to guess?

LOGAN

You can always borrow Rhett to get your terrier fix. I think he loves you more, after all. You’d be doing him a favor.

OLIVIA

I don’t know if I could pull off “the sprinkler” the way you do. My dance moves are more conventional.

LOGAN

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