Unsettled (14 page)

T
he days leading up to the weekend were a blur of conference calls with the Procurement Department and compiling expense report submittals to Accounts Payable. My busy work helped me not dwell on the confrontation I’d had with Damon the week before. Unfortunately, I also found myself silently hoping that Logan would be back in D.C. soon. I hadn’t heard from him in a couple of days, and on some level I was a little disappointed. Alex knew something was up when I started doing load after load of laundry at eight in the morning on a Saturday.

“Why are you up so early?” she inquired. “I thought I heard the washer going, but I didn’t think it was you since you hate waking up early.”

“No reason,” I said nonchalantly. “I just had a lot of loads to do.”

“Oh okay. What do you have planned for today?”

“Nothing much—I have to run to the bank and pick up a couple things.”

“Are you still making lasagna for dinner?” she asked. I’d become the lasagna aficionado in our house.

“Yeah, but I don’t have all the ingredients so I’m going to stop at the grocery sometime today,” I said, switching over my laundry. “I’m also going to stop at Costco to pick up some more paper plates and towels. Text me if you think of anything else.” Based on the amount of trash we generated weekly, the refuse workers in our neighborhood probably thought a family of six lived in our house.

“Okay, well let me know what the damage is for the bill.”

“Will do,” I said, tossing the last shirt into the dryer.

After I finished writing down all the items I needed to pick up at the store, I quickly changed and headed out, welcoming the overcast morning.

My first stop was the bank. Thankfully I was able to bypass the long lines inside by making a deposit at the ATM. A wide smile crossed my face when I looked at the printed receipt in my hand. My meager forty-five thousand dollar salary from Copple, selling a few of my photos, and my frugality was finally paying off. Between keeping Aspen running and following tips from the few savers blogs that I followed, I’d finally cleared eighteen thousand in my savings account. I really hoped to get the student loan monkey off my back within the next year and finally begin to do more of the things I dreamed of. Italy was on my list of fantasy destinations. I had greater aspirations than being Trent Walker’s lackey. My POS job was merely a means to an end.

I WAS REGRETTING MY
decision to cook lasagna as I flung the jars of sauce, cheese, and meat into my trunk and forced it closed. All my running around had wiped me out. I climbed into my car—my sights set on getting home. My phone rattled in my cup holder.

Logan: What are you up to?

I examined the five texted words on my screen for a few seconds and my face broke out into a huge smile. I released the breath I’d been holding since I’d seen Logan last.

I replied: Nothing much for a Saturday—just finished running errands. How about you?

“Same here—filling my head with useless information on TV.”

I smiled at the sad face emoticon that accompanied his message.

A few seconds later another message from Logan popped up on my screen:

“Interested in seeing a movie tonight? Transformers opened yesterday.”

My fingers wanted to respond immediately with a yes, but my mind stopped me short. I didn’t want to seem as though I’d been waiting to hear from him.

I turned the key in my ignition and headed home. By the time Alex and I finished unloading and putting away the mounds of groceries, Logan had texted me back.

“Kind of late, don’t you think?”

I typed back. Enough time had passed that I now appeared neutral to his invitation.

“When did 9:30 on a Saturday become late?”

Since I became old enough to understand the implications of late night invites from men
, I quipped silently. I contemplated his invitation, and then typed back my response:

“Well I’m cooking dinner tonight and I don’t know how long that’ll take…”

My phone buzzed.

“What are you making?”

“Lasagna” I replied.

“My favorite—how’d you know? Definitely sounds better than room service.”

A few seconds later another message came through:

“Do you want some help? I’ve perfected the art of boiling water…”

His response put me off-kilter. Logan wanted to come to our place for dinner?

“Can’t really envision you in an apron…”

“I’m more than willing to demonstrate that I am a man of many talents.”

“Okay, Wolfgang…” I teased.

Right after I’d agreed to the unthinkable and we set a time, I knocked on Alex’s door.

“Are you going to freak out?” I asked sternly.

“Depends,” she answered just as casually.

I blew out a loud breath, “Okay, I swear on all things holy if you make one remark I’m disavowing our friendship…Logan is coming over for dinner.”

As soon as she opened her mouth to speak I stopped her.

“Silence!” I demanded. “No words, remember?”

“Oh my God! I can’t believe it!” she screamed.

“If you’re going to act all weird I’m just going to tell him not to come.”

“I’ll be on my best behavior,” she promised.

“I want to believe you, but I don’t know if I can,” I said, slanting my eyes in her direction. “I know you—you, Ms. Cartwright, are an investigator. I’m not even sure you know what the word ‘private’ means. So this is how our little get together is going to go: no asking about his net worth, political views, or how he became so successful that he was recognized by Bloomberg. I don’t want him feeling like he is at an interview session. Got it?” I asked with mock authority.

“Yes,” she said. She rolled her eyes in an exaggerated manner. “You don’t have to be so overprotective. I’m positive he knows how to handle himself.”

“Not around you,” I responded.

“I won’t badger him, okay?” She leaned against her door frame and folded her arms.

“Fine. Now get in the kitchen and help me get the food ready,” I ordered.

She lifted her arm and saluted me, “Yes ma’am!”

I rolled my eyes at her over enthusiasm and followed her to the kitchen.

OUR DOORBELL RANG PROMPTLY
at six fifteen. Must be the CEO in him, I thought. I glanced at myself in the mirror one more time before I opened the door. I decided to go for the less is more look—jeans, fitted tee, and a cardigan.

When I opened our front door, Logan was standing on my porch holding a bouquet of pink peonies, my favorite flowers. He looked more relaxed than I’d ever seen him in distressed jeans, a black fitted tee, and Converse, of all things. His hair was swept up into a small cobra style. He didn’t look like a CEO—he just looked like an average 20-something who was out on a Saturday evening, and I liked it. A lot.

“Hi,” I said, meekly. Suddenly I was ridiculously nervous.

“Hi. You look nice,” he said, eyeing me up and down, “and these are for you. It smells good in here. Thanks for letting me dinner crash.”

“Don’t thank me yet—there is still time for you to end up in the ER with food poisoning,” I joked. If I could just be my normal, witty self, I should have no problems getting through the evening, I told myself.

“I’ll take my chances,” he said, stepping into the house. He passed me and I locked the door behind him. On cue, Alex walked into the living room.

“Logan, this is my roommate and best friend Alex,” I said, waving my hand in her general direction. Logan turned to greet Alex. When he was facing me again I diligently ignored Alex’s jovial miming and thumbs-up behind Logan’s head, indicating that she thought he was cute.

“Please make yourself at home. The remote is on the coffee table. I’m sure you can catch a rerun of yesterday’s stock trades,” I joked.

“Nope—I offered my cooking services—and who am I if not a man of my word.”

“Don’t worry about it. Alex and I have it under control.”

“No—I’d really like to help—please.”

“Okay, well I guess you can finish cutting the vegetables for the salad if you really want to.”

“Sure—let me just wash my hands. Do you mind if I use your restroom?”

“Of course not—down the hall to your right.”

“Thanks.” I hoped I didn’t leave any panties on the floor as I watched his retreating back. As soon as he was out of earshot, Alex released a shrill squeal.

“Dinner date! Dinner date!” she screeched, waggling her head from side to side.

“Stop before he hears you!” I hissed. I pulled out the salad bowl and found the tongs wedged in the utensil drawer. “You’re such a girl!” I replied. “I don’t know why me having a guy over for dinner has turned you into a big lump of love mush. It’s not that serious,” I said, mockingly.

Just as I finished chastising Alex, Logan floated around the corner.

“Hey—now where can you use me?” he asked, rubbing his hands together.

“You can be in charge of making the salad. Here, you can wear this,” I said. I tossed Jay’s “King of the Grill” apron in his direction. He read the quote on the front and broke out into a boisterous laugh.

“Wow—that quote is a lot to live up to,” he remarked, tying the apron around his lean waist. “All I can say is don’t get your hopes up” he joked. His humorous comment relieved some of the nervousness that I’d been feeling ever since I agreed to see him again.

“Yeah—that’s Jay’s apron. Trust me, he doesn’t live up to the quote either,” I laughed. “He should be back soon. He got assigned to take Alex’s car in for service today,” I said, tossing Alex a smirk.

“Hey—after a decade of me putting up with him that’s the least he can do!” she retorted flippantly. Logan chuckled at her response. I laid out the lettuce, parmesan wedge, and red onion for him to chop.

“Let me just find the cheese grater.”

“Hey, I wanted to ask you, where did you get the photo hanging in your bathroom?” Logan asked. I assumed he was referring to the black and white photo of the White House near the window.

“I shot it from a hotel bar window,” I said, rifling through the kitchen drawer to locate the grater.

“You seem to have a good eye.”

“See, Brooklyn!” Alex chastised. “I keep telling her the same thing—but does she listen? Nope!” she said, directing her comment to Logan. I shot her the evil eye, which prompted her to stop blabbering and continue diligently setting the table. “What? I’m just saying,” she said as a final rebuff.

“Thanks. It’s just something I enjoy,” I said, handing him the grater.

“Hey baby,” Jay called to Alex, coming through the door.

“Hey you,” she said, throwing him a loving smile.

“Hey B, how’s it going?” Jay asked.

“I’m good. Jay, this is Logan. Logan, this is Jay—my other roommate, and Alex’s ball and chain,” I joked.

“Nice to meet you,” Logan said, extending his hand to Jay.

It took no time for Logan and Jay to warm up to one another. They became engulfed in discussions about Jay’s career in project management and Logan’s business. When I saw how natural Logan interacted with my friends, I didn’t see the millionaire CEO that was portrayed on the Internet. I wondered if he was always this relaxed outside of the boardroom.

“Hey—I can do that so you guys can talk in the living room,” I offered, pointing to the lettuce Logan was attempting to cut. Watching him chop the head of lettuce was actually painful. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that he was just supposed to slice the lettuce, not massacre it.

“No, I’m sure I can get the hang of it,” Logan insisted, while he held the knife at an awkward angle.

“Okay, hand it over! Go, please, before you hurt yourself.” He finally obliged my request and headed into the living room to continue talking to Jay.

Alex finished setting the table and I put the finishing touches on the salad. I took the lasagna out of the oven once the top layer was crusted over and popped the store bought garlic bread into the broiler to toast.

“Dinner is pretty much done,” I said as I walked into the living room.

“Sweet!” Jay exclaimed, propelling himself off our leather couch and heading toward the set table.

When the bread was ready we all sat down to eat.

“So how long are you in town?” Alex asked Logan, as she passed the breadsticks in his direction.

“I’ll be in and out of the area for the next few weeks until my next business trip.”

“Oh, really? Visiting anyone special, a girlfriend perhaps?” Alex asked, brazenly.

My head snapped in Alex’s direction and I gaped at her, “Alex!”

I turned to Logan. “Oh my God, ignore her. Someone has forgotten where she put her manners. You don’t have to answer that.” I wanted to wrap my fingers around her thin neck and shake some sense into her. She had succeeded in making me uncomfortable.

“Alex…” Jay warned. His tone told her exactly what I wanted to say.

“What? It’s an innocent question,” she said, putting a forkful of lasagna into her mouth.

I could tell Logan was a little taken aback by her forward question, but he answered anyway.

“For your information Alex, no I don’t have a girlfriend. Monogamy doesn’t exactly work for everyone.” I thought that was a rather weird statement, but didn’t say anything.