I t’s been over a week since I left .

Nine days to be exact since I saw his face, and deep winter has come .

Most days, thinking about Logan hurts, but I try not to focus on him. Whatever “we” were, it wasn’t meant to be. Logan came into my life like a hurricane and I managed to get out unscathed .

Except, I’m not really. My heart and body ache for him and the world is duller now without him and the twins in my life .

I should also be grateful that the time I spent working for him afforded me days like this, sitting at Starbucks, working on my business plan to open my accounting firm. If it weren’t for him, I’d be scrambling to find another job. I’d be neck-deep in interviews and planning out my meager finances for the next several months. Still, another part of me (the stupid part) would trade away the small nest egg I’ve saved just to be with him one more night .

Why?

Because no one has ever made me feel the way he did before. And probably never will again. There can never be another man like him. Logan, older, more experienced man that he is, knew my body better than I did. He did things with it I never would’ve dared do. He pushed my sexual limits and made me feel cared for, loved, feminine…and yes, owned. But not in a bad way. It can be a good feeling knowing your man takes care of you, makes decisions for you that you know you’ll never have the balls to make by yourself .

Not only that, but he was coming out of his shell. Seeing him with his kids the way I did the last couple weeks really changed the way I viewed him .

He wasn’t a monster .

He wasn’t a bad guy .

He was a great dad. He just needed to learn to control his temper when he didn’t get his way. Would not accusing me of being a spy for his ex-wife during his divorce been such a terrible thing? If only he’d trusted me the same way I trusted him .

Doesn’t matter. Time to move on. Maybe I’m never meant to find love .

Sighing, I sip my mocha latte then start a new spreadsheet on my laptop. I chose the Starbucks in the Financial District hoping Wall Street and the world of numbers might rub off on my business planning. Fine, I also wanted a view of Logan’s building, but nobody has to know that but me .

The door chimes, and I hear people bustling and chattering. Looking up, I see why. It’s Miriam, plucking off her gloves, shaking off the cold, and ignoring the people in line who are taking candid phone pics of her. What day is it? Tuesday. She must’ve just dropped off the kids who I miss so much. Becca with those big blue eyes of hers and Pierce with those big bear hugs he’d give me right before night-night time .

I sink lower into the table hoping she won’t see me, but her gaze is like a heat-seeking missile. After she orders, gets her drink, and takes a couple of photos with fans, she stops at my table. “Well, look who’s here.” She smiles that deep red smile like she’s just chewed off someone’s face .

I look up and force an easygoing smile, if anything, just so she won’t think she got the best of me. I’m fine. Totally fine. She didn’t break me. “Hi. How are the kids ?”

“They’re alright, could be better. I hate dropping them off at their father’s.” She shrugs like she’s forgotten who she’s talking to. I’m not one of her girlfriends. “I hate knowing a nanny is spending time with them that I could be spending .”

“So why do you leave them there then?” I ask .

It’s a legitimate question. As the daughter of a divorce attorney, I know nothing is set in stone during a divorce until the marital settlement agreement. She could very well spend all her time with her children if she wanted to during this lawless period when everything’s up in the air. But she doesn’t. And I’ve seen the tabloids, so I know why .

When she glances at me, she remembers who she’s talking to and gives the standard interview answer. “Because it’s important for my children to spend time with their father .”

Because you want to spend time away from the kids and get in bed with Andy what’s-his-face? I want so badly for her to vacate my personal space, but a burning question aches inside my chest. I have to ask while I have her here in front of me, as much as I hate confrontation .

“Why did you do it ?”

“Do what?” She glances at someone outside who’s waiting for her. It’s not Andy. Or maybe it is him in a baseball hat covering his sharp facial features .

“Hire my father. You could’ve hired any lawyer in the whole state of New York. So, why him? He doesn’t even live in Manhattan .”

Our eyes lock on each other. Hers are deep brown and full of malice. I can’t believe I ever took her side on this matter, before I ever knew anything about her .

“Because he’s a wonderful man and a great attorney. A gem, actually .”

“But you’d never even heard of him before you met me, so doesn’t that seem a little odd ?”

She flicks her hand, brushing off my suspicion. “Look, I admit, I called him up hoping to learn more about you than is explained in your nanny bio. I wanted to know who was taking care of my children. Then, I discovered there was more to him.” She smiles as though imagining my father in the center of her mind. “I liked the things he stood for .”

“He didn’t stand for his daughter,” I say .

“That’s right,” she agrees. “He stood for his client, his law firm. I don’t want a lawyer who’s a nice dad. I want a lawyer who will do anything to help me win .”

“Unfortunately for you, he’s really not that good. He’s okay at best,” I tell her. Part of me regrets saying it, but given that my father hasn’t even called or tried to talk to me since everything came apart, I don’t really care .

And it feels nice to stick it to Miriam .

Miriam stares, and if she could slap me, she would. But her disdain right now melts into a casual shrug. “I suppose like father, like daughter,” she says finally .

“What’s that supposed to mean ?”

She begins backing toward the exit. “You were just okay as a nanny. Just like your father is okay as an attorney .”

“I was better than okay.” I feel my eyes burning, and I don’t know why I’m letting this witch get inside my head. But I can’t seem to stop .

“I don’t know,” Miriam smirks. “The other girl from Le Nanny seems to be doing much better than you, and the kids don’t cry when it’s time to go. I like her a lot better .”

Other girl from Le Nanny ?

Who??

Miriam slaps sunglasses over her eyes and presses against the door .

“Which girl?” I ask, my chest trembling. Like I know, deep in my heart, before she even says it .

“Caitlyn something? Blonde, beautiful…a threat, to be sure.” She smiles evilly and pushes out into the busy sidewalk of the Financial District where she falls in step with the man waiting for her outside .

Caitlyn? Caitlyn Summers, my roommate and friend who told me she got a new assignment working for “some loser midtown?” Sure. A loser she’s been dying to fuck. Suddenly, all my brain can envision is her and Logan having hot monkey sex all night, every morning, and all the times in between. I see him groping her perfect breasts, and I see him pushing his cock into her tight body. Her tight ass .

A wave of jealousy rises up through me like lava about to spew .

If I call her, I’m only going to end up yelling in the middle of this Starbucks. I decide to text her instead. More controlled that way. Plus, with texts, I’ll have verbal evidence I can analyze over and over again .

I was going to tell you .

Paisley I was going to tell

you today. It wasn’t my idea .

The agency sent me and I knew

you’d react like this so I kept

putting it off .

T hat’s not true and no we’re not .

I toss my phone into my bag and don’t bother reading her reply. Am I being immature? Fuck, yeah. Do I give a rat’s ass? NO. She’s my fucking roommate, and my friend, for fuck’s sake. All she had to do was come clean and tell me the truth instead of making me find out in the worst way possible—hearing it from Miriam Dange-Raider’s mouth .

There’s no way Caitlyn has been working there for a week without getting the same “treatment” he gave me. Now, I feel so foolish. And unbelievably hurt. Maybe it was naïve of me, but I actually thought there might’ve been more between me and Logan. I thought it might’ve been special. I thought maybe I was the woman to finally bring out the best in him .

I thought a lot of things I’ll never think again .

Because I’ll never be this stupid ever again .

Shoving my laptop in my bag, I barrel out of the coffee shop and flick my middle finger at Logan’s penthouse in case Caitlyn can see me. Then, I head for the nearest train back to Brooklyn, my pride in my throat and fists in my pockets. Caitlyn better hope I don’t run into her tomorrow night when she gets home, because I can’t be responsible for what I’ll do next .