Page 45 of Under Locke & Key

If you would be amenable to rejoining the team, I’d like to offer you the position of project manager. You’ve more than proven yourself and I’m sorry it took us so long to see it.

It’s waiting for you whenever you’re ready. Let me know at your earliest convenience.

I hope to get the chance to work with you again!

Regards,

Andrew Hollis

What the fuck? Have I been dropped into some kind of mirror dimension? There’s no way Andrew typed all of that. After years of waiting and hoping for recognition, it isn’t until I’ve stepped away that I get it?

There’s no chance there isn’t a catch to this.

Is Keith still there? If Andrew is offering me the position then it must mean things didn’t work out with him.

Not that I’m surprised, given how he started off his new position all those months ago.

The thought of going back—of D.C. and the grind, and my basement shoebox doesn’t seem as appealing as I’d thought it might.

Even with the uncertainty of my job here, I’m reluctant.

Before I can shoot off a reply to Andrew, give in to my gut reaction to tell him to fuck off, Logan slips into the kitchen.

“Here you are! Hiding in the kitchen is no way to celebrate. Theresa’s got some amazing bites out back while we wait for the main event, plus a pitcher of ice cold margaritas.”

“You're twisting my arm. I just needed a sec.” To come to terms with my recent revelation and the giant question mark that comes next.

“Anything specific?” Logan leans against the counter, arms crossed as he settles in and waits. I want to divulge the job situation but I’m still stuck on that other shoe hanging over my head when it comes to Bryce.

“What was Stephanie like? Bryce doesn't talk about her much, understandably, but years of marriage aren't exactly easy to just set aside in a matter of months.”

Logan’s mouth purses at the mention of her name.

“Bryce has never had an easy time with undertones and hints, and picking up on backhanded compliments or sarcasm.

Steph thrived on all that. At first I'm sure it wasn't intentional but there's only so much grace you can give a person when they repeatedly set up your friend to fail and then blame them when it does.”

His chest fills with a huge inhalation that he huffs out before running a hand through his hair.

“Bryce was coming back here less and less, but when he did—when she was here with him—I saw it.

She'd ‘tease’ him as she called it. Or make little remarks about Bryce's interests.

Or his friends. Or his parents. Even though he might not always have read between the lines it eventually became obvious that she didn't approve of any of it.

She had an image in mind for them and him.

When they met, Bryce was malleable. As time went on and he became more comfortable around her .

. . more set in his ways and able to stop exhausting himself to impress her, it wasn't how she wanted it.”

My heart aches at the picture Logan paints. Of a marriage slowly disintegrating and one of them none the wiser until it was too late. Logan keeps going, describing an image that’s painful to look at with light shone on it.

“She'd say they were all right when he felt something was off between them and asked about it.

Bryce would take it at face value. Why wouldn't he believe his wife?

But I guess she got tired of skirting around it and hoping he'd read her mind.

He called me when she dropped it on him and the only thing he wanted to know from me was why he wasn't enough.”

The ache in my chest splits to a crack. Because I get it. I know exactly what it feels like to doubt yourself like that. Professionally and personally, I get it.

“So, if this is you asking because you want to compare yourself to Steph, because you're worried that time with her overrides or outshines the depth of what he has with you. Don't.”

My face must give me away because he smiles at the sight of it.

“It's that obvious, huh?” I ask, face flaming.

“You and Bryce are the only ones who seem to be missing it.

I don't know what your plans are or the full extent of your feelings—and I don't want to be the first to know, that should be Bryce.

All I ask is that you assume good intent when it comes to him.

Nothing he does or says is with malice, even when it might come out distant. Just don't break his heart.”

It's an earnest plea, one I find myself nodding to.

“You really overestimate my impact if you think I have the power to break his heart,” I scoff, trying to dislodge the uncomfortable feeling in my chest brought on by his words. It's too scary to consider—to want—without getting my hopes up.

“Rachel, don't sell yourself short. If this is real for you—and I assure you it's real for him—then let go and let it happen. You don't have to overthink it. The things that are meant for us have a way of finding us if we stand still long enough.”

The words fall like stones into my pristine and artificially still surface. Sinking in and rippling out. Before I can respond there's a loud ring from the counter. Someone's phone vibrates across the surface, lit up and urgent.

The joke is on my tongue about who could possibly still keep their sound on in this day and age—my mind grasping to deflect with humor—when Logan curses.

“Speak of the She-Devil.”

My nerves over our unexpected heart to heart flood my senses. My breath comes just a little too shallow, and my heart thrums a touch too fast.

“He's not here. What do you want?” Logan sounds as cold as I've ever heard him. The friendliness and understanding from a few moments ago is long gone.

I'm close enough to make out the tinny sound of her answer, for the most part.

“Logan? Why are you answering his phone?” There's a pause before she continues. “Nevermind. Just tell him one of my boxes must have gotten mixed in with his and I'd like him to ship it to me. It's marked ‘wedding’ and it's very important that I get it back.”

“Getting all sentimental? I didn't peg you for the type. Wouldn't blame you for wanting it though, remind yourself of exactly what you lost. Not doubting your choices now, are you?” It's scathing. Mocking in a way and very uncomfortable to watch.

I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be hearing this. Then again, Logan shouldn't be answering Bryce’s phone but I get it. If ángel's ex, Jesse, called him up and I had the opportunity to run interference, I wouldn't hesitate to give him a piece of my mind and keep him far away from my friend.

She sputters on the other end and Logan latches on to her speechlessness. “Don’t even waste your breath, Steph. If that box is even here, it won’t be for long.”

The tone of her response can only be described as irate and most of it is lost in the muffled sound of yelling. Logan winks at me.

“He doesn’t owe you shit and I’ll personally burn that box if I need to.

You made your choice, now keep to it. You decided you didn’t want to be a part of his life anymore and you got your wish.

Don't bother calling again. Don’t insert yourself where you don’t belong.

I know you're not above that. Bryce might be too nice to tell you to fuck off, but I’m not. ”

He doesn't wait for a response, hanging up before she can get another word in. He's fuming, I can tell.

“Wow, Logan, tell me how you really feel about her.” The attempt at levity has the intended effect and he huffs out a little laugh.

“Come on, I'm surprised Frank hasn't dragged you out by the hand yet. They'll wonder where we've been.” Logan throws his arm across my shoulders like I'm one of his friends.

“If they ask, just tell them you were giving me a speech, trying to suss out what my intentions are toward your friend,” I say.

The sliding door's whoosh isn't enough to draw the attention away from all the conversation and music, but the heat hits us the second we step outside.

“And what should I say if they ask me what your answer was?” Logan asks.

My eyes catch on Bryce, chatting with his dad, an icy drink swallowed up by that large hand and condensation dripping down his skin at the contact.

“Tell them the ball is in Bryce’s court now but I'll play for as long as he wants to.”

Bryce notices me, his eyes raking over my body and having more of an effect than the summer over the flush that spreads through me. The slow curl of his smile and the little twitch of his head inviting me over only fuel the flames.

Logan’s arm drops as he heads to Gabrielle and I'm drawn to Bryce like we're tethered and one look from him is enough to tug me close.

“Everything okay? You disappeared for a bit.” There's concern in his voice when he bends down to whisper it in my ear and I'm reminded of Logan saying what he asked Steph, the fear behind it.

I mean it when I say, “Now that I'm with you, I'm perfect.”

There will be time to talk about Andrew's email and the call from Steph, because he deserves to know, even if Logan’s trying to protect him.

Bryce shouldn't be left in the dark and blindsided again.

But for now I'm content to stand a little too close to him despite the heat.

I'll happily enjoy the kisses he presses to the top of my head and the fingertips he trails down my arm as he talks to someone else.

As if to say I'm on his mind, he's focused on me, and I find that the niggling voice in my head questioning whether he wants me or if I'm enough is quiet.

Bryce is by my side and that's all that matters.