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Grace was flying high on cloud nine, but obviously, Logan doesn’t share her excitement.
“Not to be a dick, but if you’re having a bad day, why’d you ask me to come meet you? Grace is at my place, waiting on me to eat dinner.”
He finally looks at me and literally snarls, his lips parting enough to let out a growl. “Grace is waiting on you for dinner, huh? Are we closing in on the three-week deadline where you convince her to live wi
th you?”
Hostility fills the air between us, and anger starts to bubble up. “All due respect, Logan, but that’s none of your fucking business.”
His eyes start to burn with betrayal. He takes a large swig of his drink and slams it on the desk.
“That’s where you’re wrong. While you’ve been busy sweeping my sister off her feet, you’ve failed to keep your word to us.”
“What the fuck are you talking about? I’ll warn you now, Logan, you’re on your way to pissing me off, and that’s not a smart move.”
“Pissed off? Pissed off? You think I care about pissing you off? This isn’t fucking about you!”
“What the hell is your problem?” I roar, clenching my fist to my side.
His expression changes to complete disgust. “Grace said something last week at dinner that caught my attention. Actually, she said a few things, making plans for December and February, mentioning the Super Bowl, joining a Women’s Business Association, shit like that.”
“What’s the problem with that?”
“December? February? March even?”
“I’m not following you.” My anger spikes at his condescending tone.
“Grace is supposed to be in Alaska, New York, California! Not Miami!”
His point hits me hard, understanding washing through me.
She hasn’t told him she wasn’t accepted to the program.
I sink into the chair and try to think quickly. This is a conversation she should be having, but I can’t let her walk into a situation like this. I’d kill him if he directed this type of anger toward her.
“I’d never overstep, because you should hear this from her, but she didn’t get accepted. I think it’s hurt her more than she’s letting on.”
His body jolts, physically stilling. “W-w-what?” He draws out the word.
“She didn’t get accepted,” I repeat.
He lowers his head and blows out a few deep breaths before raising his eyes back to mine, this time with a questioning glare. “Is that what she told you?”
“Yeah, kinda. When I asked her, she replied, ‘there’s always next year’.”
“So she never actually said she wasn’t invited to join?”
“Not in those words, but the implication was clear.”
“Shit, shit, shit.”
“What’s wrong now?”
He rubs his eye sockets with the butt of his hands. “She didn’t tell you either,” he assesses, sliding a small stack of papers my way.
I pick them up, my stomach starting to roll as I read through the first one.
Miss Monroe,
