Logan nodded, his eyes seemingly drawn to the girl. He’d studied psychology for eight years and liked to think he could read people from their silent cues, but this girl was different. There was a pull about her, an undeniable grace and mystery in how she carried herself.
He stood and made his way to the conference room; any moment now, she’d walk in, and he would see her up close. He’d always been a bit awkward with women, his mother once calling him the boy who had fumbled every romantic prospect life had given him. It wasn’t that he lacked confidence, though. He was an intellectual type, someone who found attraction in conversation rather than the size of a woman’s breasts. And he’d struggled to attract the right one. After all, with a name like his, most women who’d shown any remote interest had already done their homework. It wasn’t him they wanted; it was his money.
After taking a seat, he waited. A minute passed, maybe two, and the girl knocked on the door.
“You must be Daisy,” he said, standing to greet her. “Aiden shouldn’t be far behind.”
The girl smiled softly, and up close, he couldn’t help but notice her eyes. They were green, but not in a pale sense. The iris was vivid, like a bed of moss, with flecks of golden brown scattered on the outsides. She was beautiful, he thought to himself, not in the conventional sense like most of his exes, but in an effortlessly natural and antiquated way.
“So, tell me what it’s like being a journalist with everything going on. You must be busy,” he said, reaching for the mints across his desk. Then, he waited, unaware that their encounterwould mark the first words of a prologue to a story both of them didn’t yet know the meaning of.
In the month that followed, Logan struggled to forget her. Daisy Jenkins, as he’d found out, was a girl with a story. Her mother, Everley Jenkins, had been an up-and-coming musician who’d left London for the promise of breaking out in New York. And if theTimeswas anything to go by, she could’ve made it.
One of the professors at NYU labelled her the next Ella Fitzgerald, and reviews hailed her voice as effortlessly smooth and full of soul. She had everything going for her: the looks, brain, and voice, but somehow, somewhere between the ages of twenty-eight and thirty, her mother’s musical career derailed.
After that, he found little of her existence other than an obituary indicating she’d died five years ago. Then he turned his attention to Daisy.
On her professional profile, her hair was bleached to a dark toffee blonde, but those eyes were unmistakable. As a high scholar graduate from Oxford, she’d received a partial scholarship for her “undeniable enthusiasm and creative promise” and had seemingly landed a dream position fresh from graduation.
“She was pretty,” Aiden said, the day after their coffee date.
“Who?”
“The girl fromThe Daily.”
Logan knew exactly what Aiden was up to; he’d known him for as long as he could remember. When he was little, his mum used to send him off to spend the summer with his grandparents in Brighton, and Aiden’s family lived right next door. They becameinseparable almost instantly, spending every summer joined at the hip, and later ended up living together while they were both at Cambridge. Aiden was and always had been one of thoselove-conquers-alltypes, but that was a train Logan hadn’t quite figured out how to board.
Logan shrugged. “She was, yeah.”
“You should ask her out,” Aiden continued, stirring his coffee. “For a casual drink or something.”
“I’m not doing that.”
“Why not?”
He looked at Aiden then, questioning when his love life had become everyone else's problem but his. “Because it’s too forward. Besides, all I have is her work email.”
“And? It’s the twenty-first century.”
“Can you drop it?” Logan replied, standing to take his cup to the sink. He’d never admit to him that since their paths had crossed, he couldn’t shake the thought of her. “I’m not looking for a relationship at the moment. You of all people know that.”
He rinsed his cup, feeling Aiden’s eyes burning into him.
“You’re scared of rejection, aren’t you?”
A laugh escaped Logan's lips. “What?”
“You’re scared of rejection,” Aiden repeated. “After what Catelynn did to you, I get it.”
There it was. Catelynn. He hadn’t seen her in over a year; rumour had it she was working for a small press back in Germany and had shacked up with her boss, twenty years her senior. But Aiden was wrong. It wasn’t the fear of rejection; it was fear of falling for someone in the way he loved her, only to find out the relationship had been built on lies.
Catelynn had, after all, acted the part of “love of his life” and doting girlfriend until she became bored. She stayed long enough to ensure she got half of his and to poison his friendsagainst him but not long enough for him to see the relationship for what it was.
“Please don’t,” Logan said, turning back to face him. “This isn’t what this is.”
“Then, call her,” Aiden retorted. “I saw the way you were looking at her. That’s rare for you.”
Without a word, Logan stood and headed for the door. He wasn’t sure what Aiden meant by that and wasn’t about to stick around to find out.
