Prologue
three months ago
A.K.A what happened at the end of book two…
LOGAN
"She likes you, you absolute moron. She's been flirting with you for months."
Bennett's words echo in my head as I burst onto the street, frantically scanning for Audrey. She's already at the corner, arm raised for a cab, and I sprint toward her like my life depends on it.
She likes you.How did I miss this? My brain cycles through every interaction—her sitting close to me tonight, the way she always sits next to me in meetings, how she laughs at my terrible jokes that make everyone else groan.She's been flirting with you for months.
"Audrey! Wait!"
She doesn't turn around. A taxi pulls up and she's reaching for the door handle when I finally catch up, breathless and probably looking deranged.
"Please," I gasp, grabbing the door before she can close it. "Please, just... let me explain."
She looks at me then, and the hurt in her eyes makes my chest constrict. This is my fault. She said ‘I give up’ and I just sat there like an idiot asking what she meant.
"There's nothing to explain, Logan. You made it very clear you're not interested."
"That's not—" I run my hand through my hair, trying to find words that make sense. "That's the opposite of true. Can I... can I come with you? Just to talk?"
She stares at me for a long moment, then slides across the seat. "Fine. But you're paying for the cab."
I scramble in beside her and give the driver her address, which I know because I've dropped off documents off at her apartment three times in the last year and never once had the courage to stay for coffee when she offered. Coffee. Was that flirting? Was she trying to…God, I'm an idiot.
The ride is silent except for the driver's music—something with a heavy beat that reminds me of the club, of Dominic saying "She's been trying to get your attention all night." All night. All year. Maybe longer.
When we pull up to her building, I throw cash at the driver—probably too much, but I can't think about that now—and scramble out after her.
"Audrey, wait.”
She stops at the glass doors of her lobby, her back rigid. "Wait for what, Logan? So you can explain again how you need more personal space?"
"No," I say, my voice raw. "To explain that I'm an idiot. A complete, total, socially inept idiot." I take a step closer. "I didn'tmove away because I didn't want you there. I moved because my brain short-circuited. Because having you that close is all I've wanted for a year, and the sudden proximity of a successful outcome caused a catastrophic system failure."
She turns slowly, her arms crossed. "A catastrophic system failure?"
"Yes. My processing power was entirely consumed by the proximity of your... shoulder. All non-essential functions shut down. Including, apparently, basic social awareness." I wince. "The logic gates that control my mouth just… failed."
A small, almost imperceptible smile touches her lips before she presses them together again. "You are unbelievable," she says, shaking her head. "Get upstairs before you reboot on the sidewalk."
She turns and swipes her key fob, pushing through the glass door without waiting to see if I'm following. I am. I follow her like a well-trained drone, trying to find the right words. The last time I was this terrified was my first thesis defense, and at least then I knew the material.
Inside, she turns on a lamp and kicks off her heels in a way that I find both fascinating and intimidating. The apartment is exactly what I would expect, organized, minimalist, with books stacked in neat towers that look structural. Not a single cushion is out of place.
"So," she says, turning to face me, arms still crossed. It’s the same posture she uses right before she systematically dismantles a flawed argument in a design meeting. I feel like a flawed argument. “Want to explain this without the computer analogies?”
“You want me to talk like a regular person?” I smirk, and that at least earns me an amused eye roll.
“Please. It’s late, we’ve both been drinking, and I’d appreciate regular words over programming jargon for a change.”
"Right. Regular words." I take a deep breath that does nothing to steady the erratic rhythm of my heart. My hands feel useless, so I shove them in my pockets. "OK. The truth is... I'm an idiot."
"That's demonstrably false. You have two PhDs."
