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As I hurry away from her my mind races even faster than my feet.
Logan? A father?
This is your out.
You were always looking for an excuse to end things with Logan, and now you have one.
I'm trying to protect my heart, trying to keep it safe, I know it.
The image of him holding a child, being a father, it sends a sense of... something through me.
Is it envy? Is it regret? Or is it the realization that I'm already in too deep?
22
LOGAN
I've been staring at the same spreadsheet for over an hour. The numbers and graphs feel like a foreign language right now. My eyes trace the patterns, but my mind is completely gone.
To be specific, my mind is with Bailey.
The image of her in my mind. Her fiery eyes, the way she looks when she lets go, the softness of her lips. The way her body fit against mine, like she was made for me. The little sounds she would make when I touched her. The heat of her. The passion. God, the passion.
I can't focus on anything else.
Every time I close my eyes, all I see is her. Every time there's a lull in the noise, all I hear is her laughter. I can still taste her on my tongue, feel her skin under my fingertips. And it's driving me insane.
I try to refocus on the spreadsheet, force myself to concentrate on the numbers, the calculations, the cold, hard facts of business. But my mind rebels, it keeps reaching for Bailey.
She hasn't come into the office yet this morning.
I steal glances at the entrance of the office, expecting her to walk in any minute now. I've been looking forward to seeing her all morning—too much, if I'm honest.
After spending the weekend together, it wasn't enough for me. I hate to admit it, but I miss her, more than I thought I could. It's almost pathetic.
"Get a grip, Logan." I shake my head. I am like a lovesick puppy, waiting for its owner to come home.
The thought amuses me.
Here I am, wrapped around the little finger of a woman who couldn't stand me when she met me. And I could hardly deal with her.
Now look at us.
Look at me.
Oh, the irony.
As I'm about to dive into the numbers for the millionth time, there she is. Bailey walks into the office, her face looking professional as usual.
She's dressed in a fitted black dress that shows her curves and makes her eyes look extra bright.
She's so goddamn cute.
I can't even stand myself right now.
As she comes closer, I straighten up and flash her a smile, hoping to talk to her. But instead, I get...
"Good morning, Mr. Atwood." She walks right past me.
