could still hear the eerie echo of shots from that rifle, sense the confused panic in the crowd, smell the blood . . .
She rubbed her face with her hands, pushed herself upright, and toed off her shoes. Those recollections helped no one, so she searched for something more pleasant to consider. Her library copy of Educated lay on her nightstand.
If her stomach weren’t about to explode, she’d make herself a cup of tea and nestle into bed for an hour or two of reading, like always. Until now, with Logan’s words ringing in her ears, she’d looked forward to that ritual. Instead, she found herself battling new restlessness about a life that had become a repetitive cycle of overeating, a book on her nightstand, and an empty bed. He was right—it would grow tedious for most others.
The William Tell Overture interrupted her pity party. Upon hearing Steffi’s ringtone, she fished her phone out of her purse. “Hey, what’s up?”
“You never called to tell me about the Duvall photo shoot.”
“Oh, sorry. It went fine.” She played with the fringe of one of the throw pillows, unable to believe that the photo shoot had happened that morning when it seemed like days ago.
“You sound disappointed. Do you think the reshoots are a waste of time?”
“No, that’s not it. I mean, I haven’t seen the images, but I’m sure they’ll be great. Ignore me. I’m grumpy because my stomach is about to burst.”
“Uh-oh. Did Logan do or say something to prompt a binge?”
Claire closed her eyes, frowning. “My mom and I baked a bunch of stuff for Gram’s birthday. I might have overindulged . . .”
“Your metabolism is a thing of wonder. If I ate like you, I’d easily be twenty pounds overweight.” She paused. “Are you sure nothing else is bothering you?”
“I guess I’d hoped you were calling about a new job.”
“No, although I’ve emailed our former clients and asked them to write a review on our Yelp page and tag us in pictures they post of the work on Facebook and Instagram.”
“Good idea.” Claire sighed and slid back to rest against the headboard. “I’ve put together materials to hit up Mrs. Brewster one last time. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”
“Fingers crossed. Speaking of design plans, how is Logan’s condo design coming along?”
“Fine.” Kind of a lie. She’d never been so stuck on a project in her entire career. Her crush clouded her judgment, making her doubt herself. He claimed to want something cozy, yet the examples he’d pointed out—Steffi’s and her homes—had too much feminine appeal for a bachelor pad.
“I’d expect more enthusiasm given the nice budget you’ve got. You get a full do-over there, although I did like the rug in the living room. Not that I have your eye, of course.”
Claire wouldn’t admit that she couldn’t get a true sense of that rug and its colors from the photographs.
“I just haven’t hit on the perfect design yet.” And perfection had never been more important than with this job, which Logan would associate with her for years to come. They might be different as night and day, but part of her wanted him to think of her as his equal. If not in adventure, than at least in talent. “I’m working on it, though. Don’t worry.”
“I’m not worried, just curious. In other news, Benny is still wasting time with Melanie. I wish he’d find someone his own age and settle down.”
“I feel sorry for Melanie. She obviously likes him more than he likes her.”
“You should date Ben. Then we could be sisters!”
“Ben is as much my brother as yours.” Claire laughed, although it seemed a shame. If only they were attracted to each other, life could be so perfect. “Talk tomorrow, okay? I’m bushed.”
“All righty. Good night.”
Claire hit “End,” then scrolled through her email. Logan’s name and the subject line “MY BAD” leaped out at her, prompting a sharp intake of breath.
Claire,
I’m sorry I hurt your feelings today, something I’d never intentionally do. I’ve no right to judge you for the things that make you happy, but you’re wrong to say we can’t be friends. We have a lot in common with our history and our creative eye, so I hope you don’t really feel that way. As you pointed out, I don’t have many real friends and I’d hate to miss the chance to find one in you. Please forgive me and let’s start anew.
I’m working on editing the Duvall images tonight, so prepare to be awed.
Good night,
Logan
She reread