Chapter 142

I can’t. Two simple little words that echoed in my heart. Logan wanted me, of that I was sure with 100% certainty. So why this hesitation?

“Is something wrong?” I asked. He’d been acting strangely since our dance, when I had first suggested intimacy tonight. Since then, he’d been moving like a zombie, nodding and grunting at the appropriate spots in conversation, but otherwise was completely detached.

He had returned to himself now. I could see in the way he blinked and his eyes cleared.

“You aren’t my mistress,” Logan said.

My blood turned cold. “I’m your wife,” I reminded him.

Logan sighed and pushed his hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. I’d seen this look before, so I knew that he was pulling back, away from me.

“I’d thought we were past this,” I said. “When we called off the divorce, I thought things would be different.”

Logan glanced behind him down the empty hallway, as if he was worried someone would overhear. It shouldn’t – I knew what we were and the secrets we’d both agreed to keep – yet seeing him this cagey about us still cuts through my chest like a knife between my ribs.

He had said I wasn’t his mistress, yet here he was treating me like his dirty little secret.

“Goodnight, Hazel,” he said and left me. He didn’t even wait for a reply. He simply bid his farewell and disappeared like a thief in the night, having stolen my heart.

Familiar disappointment coiled around inside of me as I went inside of my apartment.

I did not hear from Logan again for the rest of the weekend. I called twice, sent to voicemail each time. I didn’t bother texting. Not answering or returning my calls was a message clearly delivered.

On Monday, I was cranky. I’d barely slept at all, and wasn’t looking forward to Dawn’s many frivolous tasks. Yet I’d have gladly handled a hundred pointless tasks from Dawn than have to see Logan, so I made a line straight for her office.

Only, once I get there, Dawn’s office was empty. Not just empty, but barren. All of Dawn’s personal effects were totally gone. Her knick-knacks. Her pictures. Her diploma on the wall. All gone.

Even her name was off the door.

I turned around, back into the hallway, and ducked my head into another HR employee’s office.

“Is Dawn out today?” It was the nicest way I could think of asking if she’d been fired.

“She quit,” the other HR rep said. “Last Friday, without notice. But we can’t be too mad. She said she hit the lottery. We’re all thrilled for her. I think she moved to Cabo.”

“Oh.” I didn’t know what else to say. “Thanks.”

I backed out into the hallway once more. Dawn won the lottery? Why did that seem so damn suspicious?

Or was I being paranoid?

Maybe I needed more sleep.

Rubbing my forehead, I dragged myself back to my usual desk outside of Logan’s office. Through the window, I saw him already here, typing away at his keyboard while simultaneously on the phone.

Hard at work as always.

I tried to follow his example. Even if I was hurt and confused by our personal problems, there was no denying that Logan was an extremely committed worker. He put almost everyone else in the office to shame.

The only other person I’d ever seen put in so many hours was one of the IT guys. Though I was suspicious that guy was sleeping under his desk. As someone who also needed to live at the office for a while, I wasn’t about to dig further or call him out.

After settling, I turn on my computer and start to get back to my usual work. Logan had handled most of it in my absence, but I could see some gaps in the differences of our styles.

All of the company required Logan’s attention, so he didn’t give individual clients the personable service that I did. He just couldn’t. There were too many people and his time was valuable.

Immediately, I busied myself with writing thank you notes and sending fruit baskets.

With the day halfway done, a message appeared on my screen in the work chat. It was from Logan.

It read, If you have time to set fruit baskets, you have time to add another account to your list.

Attached to the message was the contact information for one of our mid-level clients. While an honor to be considered capable, I privately balked at the added work. I only barely finished my work on time in the best of days. Adding this account was akin to assigning me overtime. Without the added pay.

A second message came in, with a second company’s profile attached.

Take on this one too. No more fruit baskets.

Obviously, Logan was missing the fact that personal touches like gifts helped establish long-term bonds with our individual clients. No one wanted to be made to feel like they were a number on a list. People wanted to feel important. It garnered trust, and with that trust, the clients spent more.

It was in the numbers. I could prove it.

Maybe Logan had been out of the sales field for too long. As an executive, he could be so concerned with the bottom line that he might miss the finer details.

I send a message back. Can we discuss a few things?

His reply, On your break.

My break was supposed to be used for non-work time.

Logan was most likely stressed, I reminded myself. After last weekend, he could have been as tightly wound as I was.

Maybe we needed to talk about more than just work issues. Okay. On my break, then.

During my break, I walked into Logan’s office. I started to close the door, expecting a personal conversation.

“Leave it open,” Logan said.

Strange. But I couldn’t go against his wishes so I left it open. I walked up to his desk.

Not looking at me, Logan continued typing as he asked, “What were your issues?”

“The fruit baskets…”

“An unnecessary expense and a waste of your time.”

“They cultivate a rapport…”

“Build that rapport through your meetings and calls. You don’t need to waste company funds on something so arbitrary, not when your verbal skills alone should suffice.”

That felt like a dig, but I swallowed down my reflex to become defensive. After all, the fruit baskets weren’t my real problem.

“Two new clients are a heavy ask on top of my other duties,” I said.

“You can handle it.” He was still typing, still not looking at me.

“Logan…”

With a sigh, he stopped typing to look at me. “What do you want, Hazel? Special treatment?”

“No, of course not. But I feel like I’m being punished somehow.”

He paused a moment. Inhaled and exhaled. “Everyone has acquired more duties starting this week. We have a new efficiency standard, so productivity has to increase, or we’ll have to start layoffs.”

“Layoffs?” I couldn’t believe my ears. Everyone already worked so hard. Not as hard as Logan, sure, but from their scheduled 9 to 5, I’d never seen anyone slacking off, except for a few gross supervisors that Dawn’s unfortunate rules did actually weed out.

“We need to lower costs and increase profits, Hazel. That is the trajectory of any good business.”

I hated when he got this way, talking to me like I was some ignoramus and him some intellectual on high. Right now, he sounded so much like those jerks from the high society party that I wanted to scream.

“Everyone needs to pull more weight around here. Even me. Even you.” Logan stared at me the way a boss would. Not a husband. “Is that clear?”

“Not really,” I said. What could have happened from last week to this one to make him want to change everything so drastically?

Logan shook his head at me. “Weren’t you the one who wanted to prove the worth of the working class to my grandfather? Now’s your chance.”