by Piper Lawson
I pull out the mouthpiece. "Kendall? Kendall?"
I look around, and I can't find her.
Panic rises in my chest.
I scan the surface, my head whipping back and forth. She can’t have gone far.
But there’s no sign of her.
Fuck. Fuck!
It's a few long minutes before I see her snorkel bobbing above the water.
I take off through the waves, cutting through the water on a mission. My heart hammers.
"Logan!" she calls from behind me. I swim back to her in record time, carving through the water.
"My snorkel got water in it. I took it off to clean it but dropped it, and the current swept it away too fast. I’m so sorry. I’ll buy you another one."
But I barely hear her words because I'm stroking the sides of her face. "You're okay."
"I'm fine." The surprise fades from her eyes, replaced by concern.
I lead the way back to the boat, wait for her to go first, then I haul myself up the ladder. The towel I hand her is ignored.
"You're white. Logan, what’s wrong?"
“Nothing.” I drop onto one of the seats, dripping on the leather as she cups my face, crouching next to me. “Losing sight of you reminded me of something that happened a long time ago.”
“Tell me.” Her voice is soft but sure.
I try to resist it. It’s not something I talk about with anyone.
But the look on her face is steely, and I relent.
"Summer after junior year of college, Monty and I dove this wreck. The Andrea Doria. It was all we talked about.” I shift back, sticking my legs out in front of me as I catch my breath. “The wreck's two hundred feet down, but that's not why it's dangerous. It's because the ship crumbles around you. You get in there, and you're trapped. You so much as touch the walls, it'll kick up a cloud of dust that leaves you disoriented. You can't find your way out.
"I was supposed to look out for him. Monty was further into the galley than me. But I wanted to find something to bring back. A memento.” I remember the kick of adrenaline in my blood as I saw the corridor of staterooms just begging to be explored. “I got distracted, reckless, and didn’t pay enough attention. I got into a space that was too small and hit the edge with my tank against the rotting cupboards.”
My throat works as I try to find the words, and Kendall's face contorts as she pictures it.
“It was like a sandstorm. I couldn’t see anything. I searched for Monty for as long as I could, but it was like searching in a blackout.
“By the time we got him up, he was unconscious. I spent ten minutes staring at my best friend, thinking he was dead, and it was my fucking fault.”
A tear runs down Kendall's cheek. "Logan, I'm so sorry. But you knew it was dangerous. Both of you."
“He was my responsibility,” I insist. “He’s always had my back, and I let him down. And it’s not the first time.” But after that, I knew I couldn’t take that chance with something precious to me.
“Is that why you left the country after college?” she asks.
“Nah.” Was it though? I can’t quite remember. When my grandmother approached me about working at Hunter’s Cross, it brought up all those feelings of panic and dread. It seemed like everything pointed to getting the hell out of here. “Maybe a little.”
Up until that dive, Monty was my best friend, but I always envied him. Some part of me wished I could function like he did. Ace every test without studying, though of course he studied anyway because that’s the kind of guy he is. Be the head of student council. I worked at Hunter’s Cross one summer, slinging product, and got him to join me because, hell, why not? He was the one who wanted to know what happened in the offices, and he was good at it.
When the then-head of production gave me jobs, I couldn’t fuck them up fast enough. Sent orders to a different purchaser. Bought the wrong parts for the machinery. And then there was Monty. He could do no wrong.
My grandmother never saw it. I did anything I could to hide my mistakes from her. But I made sure she saw Monty do well. Because he deserved that.
"It's not your fault.” Kendall’s fierce words and fiercer expression bring me back. “You know that. And I just met Monty, but I can tell he’d do anything for you. And I know you’d do anything for him.
“We can't argue with the past. All we can do is try to ensure that what happened helped us. Helped us feel, or grow, or care, or be better than we were. Because if all we do is use a mistake as an excuse to hurt ourselves, then we've made nothing good from what we've been given."
I turn over her words as I drip on the deck and relive the biggest fuckup of my life.
I'm not sure I can believe Kendall.
But for the first time ever, I want to.
23
Rena pounces on me in the kitchen when I get into work Wednesday morning.
“I have something for you. Ta-da! Happy V Week.” She holds out a box. I know what’s in it without lifting the lid.
“Aww. You bought me my own vibrator?”
“The gift that keeps on giving.”
The official launch was yesterday, and I’ve been following up with advertisers, monitoring promotional campaigns to ensure everything’s gone out on time. I just sent an email to remind reviewers to leave us their experiences on the website.
“And you named it the Petal?” she asks.
“You like? The name was Logan’s idea.” He said it looked like a flower. I thought it was too feminine, then he pulled out these stats on how strong flower petals are, and it kind of seemed perfect.
“Cute. I bought one for me too. A small concession for being away for a few days and missing your official launch. Besides, Wes has been asking all kinds of questions since that afternoon meeting we had with Daisy and Ben.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “I don’t know if he’s more into the vibe or the artificial intelligence part of it.”
“Do you care?”
“Not at all.” She grins. “Oh. We also have a moment of celebration planned at noon.”
She goes to the fridge and pulls out a box. My eyes round. “You didn’t.”
“Daisy and I did together.”
Rena lifts the lid. It’s a beautiful round cake with buttercream icing and a penis drawn on it in gel ink. “Congrats on your explosive success,” says the fuchsia cursive handwriting.
“Oh goodness.”
“More importantly,” she says over her shoulder as she returns the cake to its spot, "I haven’t seen you since Friday since I was in Dallas doing wedding prep. How was your weekend with Frat Boy—scratch that. He's definitely all man. Frat Man?"
I hit the On button for the coffee maker—didn’t have time to stop at the café—and sink against the counter. "It felt like I was in an Audrey Hepburn movie."
“Only no cigarettes,” she guesses.
“Exactly.”
Seeing where Logan comes from was amazing. The way they accept him and who he is, the relationship he and Monty have, it’s all amazing. Somewhere between dancing and snorkelling, I found myself thinking we could have everything.
I get that Logan’s afraid to take on responsibility. It's tragic because all he wants is to help Hunter’s Cross, to create new ideas and products in the world, and he’s incredible at it. But he won’t take on commitments because he doesn’t want to let down the people he loves.
"So, a trip to Orange with your hottie boyfriend is in your future?"
Rena’s words bring me back, and I exhale a long breath. "I'd have to tell my parents about him first."
"You left Rory there for the weekend without telling them where you were going?"
I wince. "I told them I was visiting friends in Long Island."
When I picked up Rory, I’d had a chance to tell my parents about Logan. I didn’t.
Even though I feel close to Logan, they’ll take one look at him and the tongue ring and think I’ve lost my mind. They'll judge me, and they’ll judge him, and I don’t want to brin
g him for that until I have to.
“I'm not sure how to tell my parents I'm sleeping with a frat boy I met through a mutual professional interest in vibrators."
Rena’s brows draw together as she reaches for two mugs. "You could tell them you're dating a man who's kind and funny and creative and has a great family."
I groan. “He’s all of those things, and I think that’s why I’m freaked out.” I go to the fridge for cream and think about the drive home Sunday night, which brought me down from the weekend high. "When we started sleeping together, I thought it was just a way to keep Bad Kendall happy.”
“Wait. Who’s Bad Kendall?”
“The sex-deprived part of my psyche.”
“Got it.”
“But it’s more than that. He’s more than that.” I cut her a look. “He did introduce me to his mom as the woman helping him sell sex toys.”
Rena’s bark of laughter has colleagues looking up from their desks in the other room.
“I’ll have to figure out what to say to my parents because they agreed to come to Rory’s talent show next month and Logan’s coming too.”
“Whoa. That’s big.” Rena grabs two mugs from the sleek, white cupboard overhead. "What’s the R-bomb doing for it?"
I bite my lip. “He hasn’t decided. I sold all the tickets, but Nadine's threatening to pull my kid if he doesn’t commit his ‘props list’ by the end of the week. I put him down as Rory the Magnificent to buy time.”
I’m feeling guilty to admit I haven’t been spending enough time figuring that out on account of all the time I’ve been spending on work and with Logan.
“You could tell your mom the truth about how you met, too,” Rena suggests. “That you wanted to fuck him and somewhere over two months and a mountain of sex toys, you fell for him.”
I shake my head as I fill her coffee cup, then mine. “She’d ship me off to Bible camp.”
“You’re twenty-six. She can’t legally do that.” We exchange a look over our coffee mugs, then laugh. “You’d be the oldest camper ever.”
“And thanks to Logan, the one with the most dirty jokes,” I murmur into my java.
Rena takes a sip and thinks. "You never told me why Logan wants to sell this many vibes when it’s not even his company."
"He lost a bet with one of his school friends. Though I don’t know all the details, it sounds like they’ve had some crazy ones over the years."
"That's a hell of a bet. But it's also pretty random. Why vibes?"
I open my mouth to answer when I realize the truth. "I have no idea."
"I've never used the penthouse," I tell the event manager at the Charlotte Hotel when I head over there after lunch to check on a space.
"It's lovely. It'll be perfect for your clients." She clicks away on her computer. "I have another meeting, but the owners' son can show the space to you if you like?"
"Sure thing."
The man appearing in the doorway looks familiar, though why someone in an Armani Exchange T-shirt, khakis, and white sneakers should be someone I know is lost on me. But his expression says he feels the same.
"Nelson," he introduces himself, and it clicks.
"Kendall." We shake hands and head for the elevator. "You're a friend of Logan's."
"Logan?" His brows rise, and he chuckles. "Yeah. Logan. That's where I know you from.”
“You look so tanned.”
“Just back from Ibiza. Good times.” I don’t want to ask. “Saw my vibe in some ads yesterday.”
I lift a brow. “Then the plan is working.” I’m not sure how much I should be telling him.
Of the two of Logan’s friends I’ve met, I far prefer Monty. Not only because he seems as though he has his head on straight and he has a discernable job and goals, but because he clearly cares about Logan. He has his back.
I don’t know what Nelson’s deal is, but if I had to bet, I’d say he’s a good-times guy. Someone you could have a few drinks with but not count on to make sure you got home safe.
“Ten thousand new-and-improved Petal vibes are on sale and ready for their new owners.”
He shakes his head, grinning. "’On sale’ isn’t the same as ‘sold.’"
We go up to the penthouse, and my breath catches as I take in the expanse of space. "Wow. It's really beautiful in here."
The foyer and drawing room would be perfect for the private party my client wants to host with a handful of investors. It feels like a residence, but with the glamor and sleekness few people in this city could afford—including my clients.
"Clutch, right? Hunter likes it too. Fun fact: that's where this whole bet came from."
Despite that I don’t like Nelson very much, my heart rate picks up as I wander around the space. “Really?”
Nelson snorts. "He said he could pleasure ten thousand women in three months. Hunter's dream. Logistically, this was the only way."
I swallow as I gaze out the floor-to-ceiling windows.
"He wins, he gets the penthouse. The ultimate place to score."
My stomach turns. I’m not sure what I thought the reason was for Logan having bet the company, but it wasn’t pleasuring thousands of women.
Still, I don’t think Nelson’s lying.
“Listen,” Nelson goes on, probably thinking the reason for my sudden silence is that I hadn’t known about the bet at all. “I like you, which is why I’m telling you this. Hunter’s interest lasts about a week. Shit gets hard, he gets gone."
I turn back to Nelson, folding my arms. "Logan's not going to disappoint me."
Nelson’s flash of teeth delivers a hit of gold. "It's nothing personal. He disappoints everyone. Just ask him."
By the time I get home, my day's gotten worse.
Blake: Your parents said Rory was here on the weekend. I missed giving him a birthday present.
Kendall: You can give it to him the next time we visit.
Blake: Which is when?
I text him back the next date we’re planning to visit, a few weeks from now.
Blake: Come on, Kendall. That’s too long. He’ll think I forgot about him.
I want to say, “If he doesn’t think you forgot about him after you vanished with no word, ignored him last Christmas and the last two birthdays, and stopped sending child support, this won’t do it.”
Kendall: I get that you want to see him. But it takes an entire day of my weekend plus the cost of train tickets to visit.
I chew on my lip.
Kendall: If it matters so much, why don’t you come here Saturday? But let me know so I can rearrange our plans.
The last thing I want is to cancel our usual Saturday routine for the purpose of having Blake in my home, but if he truly wants to make an effort, I’ll try once more for Rory.
There’s no response, and I give up trying to get a straight answer. Logan calls me that night after dinner, when Rory’s doing homework at the kitchen table.
"Hey, gorgeous. Been seeing ads for Petal vibes everywhere this week. It’s making me horny."
I duck into my room for some privacy, leaving the door ajar. "At least the campaign’s making an impact.”
“I know you said you’d give me a sales update tomorrow, but we should celebrate."
“There’s nothing to celebrate yet,” I remind him.
“Sure there is. We’re young. You’re beautiful. Life is good.”
My phone buzzes as an image comes through of a notebook with a bullseye on the front and the words “WHERE I COME FOR INSPIRATION.” But the word “COME” is crossed out, replaced by “CUM.”
I shake my head but don’t answer.
"You okay, Kendall? You sound distracted."
If we’re in this, if we want a future together, I need to be straight with him. "I ran into Nellie, and he told me about the bet.” My throat tightens. “Did you actually say you could get ten thousand women off?"
A low curse comes over the line. "It sounds bad when you say it like that."
I
sink onto the bed, dropping onto my back to stare at the ceiling. "Is there a way it sounds less bad?"
Logan turns it over. "I won’t defend it. All I can say is Nellie was goading me, and in ten years of being friends, I’ve never said no. But I’ve also never lost."
I squeeze my eyes shut and rub them. “Okay, but… ten thousand, Logan?!”
“It was hyperbole, Peach.” He sighs. “Only reason we were talking about it was a trip to Ibiza we’ve done every year for the last ten.”
I shift up on an elbow. “He said he got back recently.”
“Yeah. I passed this year.”
“Why?” This feels important.
I can almost hear the shrug. “Been busy. Plus I didn’t want to. I’m not interested in spending time with random women. Lately, I’m interested in one woman.” Warmth spreads through my chest at the sincerity in his tone.
“Really?”
I grin, and he continues. "Uh-huh. She’s smart and sweet and a little dirty.”
For once, the flush that crawls up my neck isn’t entirely unwelcome.
“So, about Rory's birthday. I've been working on something."
He gives me an address, and my curiosity is piqued. "Sounds mysterious."
"Mhmm. Dress nice. Rory too. And come hungry."
"Okay, now I have to look." I look on the web. "Logan! It's a Michelin-star restaurant. And the website says it's booked out for months."
"Chef's table's even harder to get."
My chest squeezes. "Oh wow. Do you want to come over and tell him?"
"I'd love to, Peach, but I'm a little busy. Why don't you? We can celebrate his birthday Thursday, then you and I can celebrate the grown-up way later."
"I'd like that. We'd like that," I amend, my mouth curving in that involuntary way it seems to whenever Logan speaks.
"Three days. It's gonna be good. I promise."
By the time we hang up, meeting Nelson at the Charlotte feels like a million light years away.
24
"Where are we going?" Monty asks on Thursday at lunchtime as I lead him down a small street in Brooklyn.