Page 93 of Misfortune and Mr. Right

“You got the money, Rhett. But I’m not happy!”

Rhett runs around the couch. Logan chases him.

“I’m going to get that money back!” Logan says.

Rhett speeds up.

I start laughing. They’re so focused on their act, I don’t know if they even notice my laughter.

“I’m pulling out my gun, Rhett.”

Logan pantomimes pulling a gun and turns his fingers into a pistol.

Rhett stops in his tracks and stares at Logan.

Logan says, “Bang! Bang!”

Rhett spins in a circle, falling down and rolling onto his back until all four legs stiffen in the air. He stays there until Logan says, “Good boy!”

Then Rhett jumps up and sits at Logan’s feet. Logan gives him a treat and pats his head. I’m still laughing softly.

“That was amazing!” I tell them both.

Logan bows. “Thank you. We aim to entertain.”

“Since when?” I say, seriously curious.

“Since you let me.”

Logan has been willing to be this man with me. But my stubbornness kept me from letting him in.

“Thank you,” I say.

“Thank you for forgiving me,” Logan answers. “I did some unfortunate things in high school. I didn’t think through the way everything would impact you. I never meant to hurt you, Olivia.”

He plops down on the ground next to me, crossing his legs in a mirror of my stance. Rhett pads over and crawls into Logan’s lap. Logan scruffs his head.

“Want to open that thing?” Logan offers, tipping his head toward the cookie still sitting on the floor where Rhett dropped it.

“How could we not?”

He grabs the cookie from the floor and tears the wrapper.

Rhett hops off Logan’s lap and runs around excitedly, as if he’s getting a treat.

“Want to do the honors?” he asks.

“You can. I’m busy with my ice cream.”

I lift a spoonful and pop it in my mouth. Logan watches the movement, his eyes lingering on my lips longer than usual. I feel my blush warm my cheeks.

Logan cracks the cookie and pulls out the paper. He tosses the cookie bits to Rhett.

“This night is the beginning of an amazing future,” he reads off the paper. Then he looks at me and says, “This is too coincidental.”

In a sudden rush of boldness, I say, “I hope it is.”

“Coincidental?” he asks.

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