Page 5 of Logan
3
Jane
It’s been two weeks since Kate’s wedding and I’ve been run off my feet.
When she asked me to step up and run Prints Charming while she was away, it didn’t seem like too much of a big deal. But now I have a whole new appreciation for just how hard she works.
It’s like there’s been no end to all the emails I’ve had to reply to. All the orders I’ve had to double-check. The sales calls. The conversations with suppliers and couriers. And that’s before I’ve even dealt with the staff… who to be fair, are totally awesome, but not always the easiest people in the world to manage.
When Kate waltzes back in through the door with a deep brown tan and a well-rested smile on her face I almost collapse into her arms and cry, I’m so happy.
“That bad?” she laughs.
“I don’t know how you do it,” I whimper. “It’s like a treadmill from hell. Never-ending problems. I couldn’t even go home and enjoy a glass of wine without getting a phone call from someone nagging at me or complaining or just wasting my time trying to sell me something.”
“It’s okay.” She pats my head like I’m a five-year-old child who’s just stubbed their toe on the door frame. “I’m here now. You can divert calls back to my phone. I’m officially back on the clock.”
“Just promise you’ll never leave me in charge again… I mean, I think I did a good job. I held things together just fine. But this manager stuff, it’s not for me. I like to go home and switch off after work. I like to snuggle up with a book and a healthy amount of ice cream and I really really hate dreaming about not getting the wedding invitation order printed on time and getting a bad review online and ruining your whole business, and then you come back and you have to shut down and everyone ends up living on the streets and for some reason, we’re all singingit’s a hard knock lifeand there was this guy and he was acting really really weird and I think he wanted me to feed him canned peaches with my hands.”
“Yuck,” Kate laughs. “Canned peaches… it really was a nightmare!”
Then, for about an hour everyone crowds around Kate. We all ask her tons of questions about her honeymoon. She shows us pictures on her phone. Then she turns into boss-Kate. She asks us about the orders that have been coming in. If there were any problems. And, before long, it’s just like old times again and everything's back to normal and I’m walking down the metal steps that lead into the parking lot, thinking about Logan. Remembering what it felt like to kiss him. Wondering why the hell he hasn’t called me and wondering if he’s ever going to call me and if I’ll ever see him again.
Seeing Kate has really brought it all flooding back.
The first couple of days were the hardest. I couldn’t get him out of my mind. But when I didn’t hear from him, and what with me being so busy at work, it was easy to concentrate on other things… most of the time.
But every night, when I’m lying in my bath, with all the bubbles covering my naked body, I put my hands between my legs and I stroke my lady parts and I imagine what it would be like to have Logan in the bath with me. To have him stroking my lady parts instead.
I bet he’s good at it, too.
He seems like the kind of guy who's good with his hands… amongst other things.
But with each passing day, it becomes less and less likely I’ll hear from him.
I fluctuate between anger, optimism, and soul-destroying despair on an almost minute-by-minute basis.
He said he’d be back for me. But what does that really mean?
At the time I believed him, but now I think it was just a stupid line he probably uses on all the girls he kisses.
Heck, he’s a six-foot-five beefcake with a voice that could crumble clitorises just reading the dictionary. He’s probably got a different woman in every major city in the world.
From what Kate’s said, he lives a very international kind of life. But that’s about all she’d tell me… which in and of itself is kind of weird.
Usually, she’s Mrs. Gossipface. Just dying to spill the beans or find out all the latest goings-on. But when it comes to Logan she’s like a clam who’s accidentally sucked up an extra-large portion of quick-drying cement.
I can’t help but think she knows something I don’t… and what she knows is that Logan is a no-good, cheating pooface who’s probably married with three kids in a little cottage in the English countryside and a dog called Shep and a little shed full of chickens and they all wake up every morning and drink tea and eat scones and then sing the national anthem in front of a picture of the Queen in their Union Jack pajamas before galloping off on their horses to work in the fish and chip factory.
I throw my bag on the couch as I walk through the door.
My phone rings, and for a second, I think it’s going to be Logan, but it’s only Charlotte.
We haven’t exactly been on the best of terms since the wedding, and this is the first time she’s tried reaching out.
“Hey, sis,” I say.
“I’m sorry,” she blurts out. “I hate it when we fight. Can’t we just pretend like we didn’t have a massive fight and call each other loads of names and go back to being two sexy sisters who love each other and who’d do anything for each other and who maybe set each other up on dates from time to time?”
“I’m sorry, too,” I tell her. “It was all my fault. I never should have bought those shoes.” I wait for her to politely disagree, but all I hear is silence.
I’m half tempted to yell at her again. The loss of my shoes is still a sore topic. But instead, I take a deep breath and try to lower my heart rate before continuing to speak. “And what was that about setting each other up?”
“You’ll see,” she says cryptically. “How about you meet me at the mall in twenty minutes?”
“I don’t know, Charlotte. I’ve only just got home from work and I was about to run myself a bath.” I pick up my bag and I'm already heading back out the door when I agree to meet her. It’s good not to look too desperate. But who am I kidding? A mall session with my sister is exactly what I need to take my mind of Logan. “Okay, then… you’re really twisting my arm here.” She literally hasn’t said a word since inviting me to the mall. “But as it happens, I do need a new pair of shoes…”
