There he stood, clad in a pale-navy suit, his jacket draped neatly over the handle of his briefcase. He looked as if time had been kind to him, sparing every grace—while taking everything from her
She tried to look away, almost as if, by ignoring him, she could make him disappear. But it was too late; he’d already caught her staring.
He smirked with that infuriating, familiar expression, as though nothing between them had ever changed.
“Miss Daisy,” he called out, flashing a smile as he strolled towards her. “What a coincidence.”
“Logan, what a coincidence indeed.”
Her gaze shot to his ticket in his left hand, and it hit her; not only were they on the same flight, but they’d been seated in the same row. Fate, it seemed, had a twisted sense of humour.
“New York,” she said, gesturing towards it. “Please tell me you aren’t going to the conference, too.”
He bit his lip and grinned. “I take it Russell didn’t tell you then?”
She blinked hard. “Tell me what?”
“I work for the Men’s Health magazine now as a part-time columnist.”
She scowled, unsure if he was joking. He was far too overqualified to be writing articles, and it was difficult to picture him hunched over a desk, obsessing over the perfect mix of alliteration and metaphor. Then again, he’d always said that if writing paid better, it would have been his career of choice.
“I suppose he left that information out.”
Suddenly, a laugh escaped his lips, and his smile relaxed. “I’m kidding,” he said. “I’m splitting my time between here and NYU until I make up my mind.”
“Your mind about what?”
“Whether I move there for good.”
Before she could respond, he slipped into the seat beside her, sparing him from revealing whatever look had crossed her face. Together, they sat in silence, watching the steady stream of travellers pass by.
“It’s been a while,” he said eventually, giving her a playful smile. “How’s Callan doing these days?”
“He’s…” Daisy paused. It would’ve been easy to lie, to say he was fine. But Logan would see straight through it. So instead, she said, “He’s trying. It’s been tough on all of us.”
“And Ida?” he asked. “She’ll be a little lady now?”
The fact that he remembered caught her off guard.
“Yes,” she said, her throat tightening. “In a few weeks, she’s five.”
“Off to school already? Wow.” He let out a low breath. “Time really flies.”
“It does.”
They sat there in silence—awkward, yet not uncomfortable—until he nudged her again.
“It’s good to see you,” he said, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Dare I say, Miss Daisy, I’ve missed you.”
She couldn’t help but feel sympathy for the young woman who had drawn the short straw of sitting between them on that flight.
After excusing herself in the departure lounge, she went to the bathroom, splashing cold water on her face in a futile attempt to regain composure after the emotional chaos his presence had stirred. But when she returned, there she’d been—stuck beside him for seven long hours.
And, of course, he found the whole thing utterly amusing. Every so often, he’d glance at her with a smile that, on the surface, had looked innocent enough, though she’d known it to be anything but.
An hour in, he began passing her notes, as if they were a pair of high school sweethearts incapable of having a face-to-face conversation.
“Can you pass this to her?” he said to the girl, who hesitated as if unsure whether he was serious. She looked no older than a teenager, with blonde hair in loose plaits and a wiry frame hidden beneath an oversized khaki bomber jacket.
