Page 52 of Catnip, Claws, and Chaos

“My boss,” I mutter, trying to steer my friends toward a table as far from Logan as physically possible. The universe must be laughing its ass off right now. Of all the bars in New York City, he had to be at this one?

“He's sexy!” Kate stares openly. “No wonder you've stuck with this job longer than your last three combined.”

“He's an asshole,” I snap, refusing to look in his direction. I sit with my back to him and pull my hair forward like a curtain. My face burns, not just with embarrassment but something more painful. Seeing him relaxed and social while I spent a week drowning in misery feels like a knife between my ribs.

“So that's why you agreed to work at that vet clinic!” Kate says, her voice carrying during a sudden lull in the music. “I knew there had to be more to it than just 'the pay is decent'!”

“Shh!” I try to silence her, mortified at the thought of Logan overhearing.

Kate rolls her eyes dramatically. “Really, Em? We're all the way on the other side of the bar, surrounded by a bunch of noisy people. How can you think he'll hear us?”

Logically, she's right. The crowded, noisy bar makes eavesdropping impossible. But logic doesn't exist in the same universe as Logan Price. Something I learned the hard way.

“Is everything all right?” Sarah places a gentle hand on my shoulder, her eyes full of concern. “You suddenly turned pale and looked like you might puke from one minute to the next.”

“I just want to get drunk.” I grab the cocktail menu. The elaborate descriptions blur together as my eyes refuse to focus.

“Oh, come on! What could have happened with your boss that was so bad—” Kate stops mid-sentence, looking between me and Logan as realization dawns. “Holy shit,” she says, a knowing smile spreading across her face. “Our sweet little Em finally got some action.”

“What?” Sarah blinks in confusion, looking between us.

“Our sweet little Em slept with her boss, darling.”

“Keep your voice down, Kate!” I hiss, sinking lower in my seat.

“Really?” Sarah's eyes widen, but there's no judgment, just surprise and concern.

“It's complicated,” I mumble, shredding a cocktail napkin between my fingers.

“What's so complicated about it? You two had sex. So?” Kate leans forward, never one to beat around the bush.

“The thing is, I'm living in his apartment and working for him. That seems fairly complicated to me.” The weight that's been crushing my chest all week gets heavier with each word. “And we haven't spoken about it. At all. He's just... pretending it never happened.”

“Wait, what do you mean, living with him?” Sarah's forehead creases with confusion.

I heave a sigh and rub the back of my neck. “Why isn't anyone coming to take our order?” I scan the area for a server, desperate to change the subject. The last thing I need is to break down crying in this fancy place.

“Don't change the subject, Emily!” Sarah scolds. “What do you mean, living with him?”

“It means that my landlord kicked me out. I couldn't live with you because, forgive me, I don't want to sleep on your old sofa, and I couldn't ask Kate either because she's allergic to cats, and apparently, I have no one else to ask! So it was either move in with Logan or live under a bridge somewhere. He was there when it happened and offered help. End of story.”

My friends exchange looks that say they don't believe this is the end of any story.

“Okay. So you guys are living together,” Kate says as if connecting the dots. “And working together. And now sleepingtogether.” She leans forward, eyes bright with interest. “Can we get back to the part where you had sex?”

“Sometimes I think you're a perv, Kate,” Sarah mutters, her cheeks flushing pink.

Kate rolls her eyes but doesn't argue.

“We slept together. It was amazing until the next morning when I woke up alone.” My voice catches, and I have to swallow hard against the lump in my throat. “Logan hasn't said a word to me since that night. Not about what happened, anyway. It's like... it's like I don't exist for him anymore, except as his receptionist.”

I don't tell them how much it hurts. How each cold interaction feels like a betrayal of the intimacy we shared. How I lie awake at night in his guest room, listening for his footsteps, wondering if he's thinking about me too. How I replay every moment of that night over and over, trying to figure out what went wrong.

“Oh—”

A server appears before Kate can finish her thought, a guy with a neat beard and an attentive smile. His arrival is a welcome interruption from the Logan discussion, even if Logan's physical presence across the bar remains a constant reminder.

“Ladies, what can I get for you this evening?” he asks, pen poised over his notepad.

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