Chapter 155

At the end of the work day, Logan received Hazel’s email with the set day and time for his date with Tina St. Louis. Hazel had not attached any additional flare. Just a name, date, time, and restaurant where a reservation was made under his name.

She was likely still mad at him, then. He couldn’t blame her exactly. If their roles were reversed…

His hands curled into fists on his desk. He couldn’t think about that, else he risked breaking something in his rage. Maybe he should leave the office early tonight and hit the gym.

It was already the end of the workday. Surely he could leave without putting overtime in for one night.

Logan thought of running the idea passed Hazel. As his assistant, she would know if there was anything pressing on his schedule.

“Hazel!” he called. He glanced up, looking through the window toward her desk. Oddly, it was empty.

Standing up, Logan walked toward the office door and peered more closely at Hazel’s desk. The computer was shut down, all of her files locked away. Her purse and coat were missing.

Had she left for the day? Rarely had she ever done that without telling him first, or asking if he had any more work for her that day.

She truly was angry with him then. Maybe angry was understating it. For it to affect her work, she was most definitely furious.

Logan wanted to ask one of Hazel’s co-workers, likely Maria, if they knew anything. But, given recent events, he was hesitant to interact overmuch with his employees. His letter had been well-received, but it was best to let everything sit for a few days before he started making demands again.

Even asking after Hazel might have been too big of a request.

Determined to make it up to her, Logan returned to his desk and grabbed his phone. Pulling his credit card from his wallet, he dialed the florist first, with a mental note to call a jeweler afterwards. And then a clothing boutique. And an expensive shoe store. Ah, and he’ll order her a nice dinner as well.

Eager, Logan made his calls.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Maria said as she walked into my apartment with me following her. After work, we’d stopped for takeout, but I invited her over to my place to eat and drink wine, rather than sitting in a crowded restaurant.

We’d butted heads for the past few days. I wanted to make sure our friendship was still intact. I could tell that Maria felt the same way, with how quickly she agreed.

It felt good to have my friend back.

I could have someone in my corner again, ready to be outraged on my behalf. And Maria was, incredibly so, when I told her about Logan’s negotiation.

“So to get everything back to normal, your husband agreed to date other women?” Maria said, her voice sharp, her face twisted with the same rage I felt burning inside of me.

“Not just any other woman. Tina St. Louis,” I said.

Maria nearly dropped her takeout box. “The princess?”

“Her sister’s the one who married a prince. She’s more… princess-adjacent.”

“Still…”

“Yeah…” I was only trying to make myself better. The St. Louis family were practically royalty in their own right, with all their oil money and power. Rumor had it, the prince was honored to married the sister, not the other way around.

“And you picked her?”

“I picked one of the few women more wealthy and powerful than the Hatfield family,” I said.

“You’re hoping she gets bored with him…”

“She won’t need to keep him around,” I said. “Maybe she’d be more willing to play the game of being his pretend girlfriend. Without any hard feelings.”

“It’s a gamble.” Maria lowered her food to the table. Then she headed into the kitchen and picked up a bottle of wine.

“I have to trust Logan,” I said. “I don’t think he would betray me.”

“You don’t sound happy about it.”

“What’s there to be happy about? My husband is going to date other people, and I have to be a willing accomplice or his grandfather will burn everything we’ve all worked so hard for right down to the ground.”

I really had no choice but to go along with this, even if it hurt me.

“I don’t know,” Maria said. She popped the cork out of the bottle of wine, then brought it and two glasses to the table. “But if it were me, I would have wanted my husband to fight for our relationship a little harder against his grandfather.”

“Don’t get me started,” I said miserably. The hurt was very real, lying dormant under my anger. I was afraid, even mentioning it, might cause it to overwhelm me. I had to keep it contained, under lock and key, with anger as the guard.

At that moment, the doorbell rang. Maria and I both looked at the door.

“Expecting someone?” Maria asked.

“No,” I replied.

“If it’s him, I’ll go,” Maria said, grabbing her take out.

I held up my hand, stopping her. I highly, highly doubted this was him. “Wait a minute.”

As I walked to the door, there was a second knock, this time coupled with a shouting voice, “Delivery!”

As sure as I had been that it wasn’t Logan at the door, I still felt disappointed now, knowing for sure. I knew it wasn’t him, but I had hoped it was.

Giving me his time would have gone a long way to showing me he cared.

I pull open the door and am immediately faced with floor to ceiling heart-shaped balloons.

“Hazel Whitaker?” comes a voice from somewhere beyond them.

“That’s me,” I said.

The delivery man pushed forward bringing the balloons into the living room. “Where do you want these, ma’am?”

“Uh. Over there, I guess,” I waved him toward a far corner. He moved at once, with three dozen heart balloons in tow.

“And these?” asked a second delivery person, who had been hidden behind that first one. This one carried two bouquets of beautiful blooming flowers.

“Oh the coffee table,” I directed.

“I also have a delivery,” said another person, and then another, and another.

By the time they had all come and gone, my living room was full of boxes, flowers, and balloons.

“What the heck is all this?” Maria asked as she came closer.

I picked one box from the top of a box tower and opened it.

I gasped.

Inside was a sparkling diamond pendant necklace with matching earrings. The diamonds were huge, pair-shaped. It looked expensive. I could only imagine how much it actually cost.

“Here’s a card,” Maria said, plucking it from one of the flower bouquets. She brought it toward me and handed it over.

My name was written on the front, in a handwriting I didn’t recognize. Opening it, I read the words.

I hope this helps make up for some of the hardships I’ve given you. Logan.

The inside wasn’t his handwriting either. Who wrote this? Someone from the flower shop? But that would mean Logan didn’t even go. He just called, and paid. Did he even tell them what flowers to use? The flowers were beautiful, but they didn’t seem to have any significance.

Likely, he didn’t actually hand-pick any of this. He probably just called the different stores and handed out his credit card numbers.

Some effort. Some apology, without even an apology attached!

It made me feel dirty, like I was the kind of woman who only needed to be handed sparkling things and everything would be forgiven.

I ripped the card in two and threw it onto the ground.

Maria watched me do it, her anger returning.

“Will you help me call these places? All of them,” I said.

“What do you want to do?” she asked me.

“I’m not some prize to be bought or paid off with flowers and jewelry and who knows what else,” I say, my own fury rising once more. “We’re going to call these places and return everything. Even the freaking balloons.”