“No, seems you don’t.” As his eyes narrow, his papa bear comes out with a growl. “Did he pressure you to leave though? I have to ask.”

I scoff, waving a hand. “Absolutely not. I think this has been brewing in me for a long time. I want to do my own thing. Be a consultant. Run my own business and advise others on content partnerships. It has nothing to do with him, and everything to do with me.”

He nods and smiles. “Good to know.”

I thank him, leave, and head to meet my team for the editorial meeting. But I stop inside the conference room door.

That’s odd.

Logan is here, holding a Calvin and Hobbes lunch box.

Next I register the frozen tableau of Matthew, Rosario, James, and Quentin. “Everything okay? What’s going on?”

Practically in unison, they gesture to Logan. “He’s Mr. Lunch Box?” Rosario blurts, and I wince.

“Mr. Smolder,” Matthew adds, like I might have forgotten who Mr. Lunch Box is.

I heave a sigh, frustrated that today isn’t going to plan.

I wanted to do things in the right order, at the right time. To tell them I was leaving, then to tell them who I was seeing.

But you don’t always get to do things the way you want.

“He is. But I won’t be writing about Mr. Smolder anymore because . . .” I stop, an unexpected torrent of emotions flooding my throat. “Because I won’t be working here much longer.”

34LOGAN

I snap my gaze to her.

What did she just say?

“You’re leaving?” I ask.

“Why are you leaving?” Quentin asks.

“You can’t leave,” Matthew chimes in. Then he stares daggers at me. “Is this because you didn’t call her? What is wrong with you? She’s amazing. How could you miss that?”

Words are on the tip of my tongue. Words like You’ve got it all wrong. And I know how incredible she is.

Rosario hisses at me, leaping from her seat, running to Bryn, and clutching my woman while shooting laser beams at me. “You should have texted Bryn. What you did was not cool.”

My eyes widen. I have no clue what they’re talking about. I want to protest and insist, I did! But my instincts tell me now is the time to shut up.

“Guys!” Bryn laughs, holding up her hands in surrender. “He did call. He did text. We’re . . .” She turns to me, her eyes saying go ahead, and I’ve got no clue why we’re doing it this way, but I trust this woman. She’s clearly got a plan.

“Together,” I say.

“What?” Matthew shrieks.

“But he didn’t text you,” Rosario says.

Quentin rolls his eyes. “Obviously, he did. Can’t you guys tell what went down?”

James raises a hand. “I’m so confused. Is this because you’re older? Is this, like, IRL dating? I thought you met online.” He grabs his head. “None of this makes any sense.”

Quentin cuts in. “Just follow the clues, peeps. He’s Mr. Lunch Box, they had a hot date, she realized he was Mr. New CEO, they cooled it, but the sparks were too hot to extinguish, and now she’s quitting and he’s got a lunch box for his kid. There. Any questions?”

Bryn laughs, looks at me, and shrugs happily.

“I have some questions,” I say, waiting for her to explain everything I don’t know.

She turns to her team. “I love you guys. I love this site. I love what we’ve built. But the time has also come for me to do my own thing. I didn’t tell Logan⁠—”

Rosario titters under her breath. “She calls him Logan.”

“You guys can all call me Logan,” I say.

Matthew shakes his head adamantly. “Oh, you’re Mr. Clarke, Mr. Lunch Box.”

Bryn clears her throat, going all lady boss. “I didn’t tell Logan, because it’s my choice.” Her hand flies to her chest for emphasis. “I didn’t do this—give notice—because we’re dating. But we are dating. I gave notice because I want to run my own business. I plan to start my own consulting shop, advising other websites and content producers on their digital presence. It’s something I’ve been doing for friends. And now I’m going to do it as a business. And none of this has to do with Mr. Smolder or Mr. Lunch Box or Mr. Clarke. All of it has to do with me.” She marches to the head of the conference table, takes a seat, and says, “Now, let’s talk about what we have planned for the next two weeks.”

Not gonna lie. I’m all kinds of turned on.

I leave them to their meeting and head for my office. Later—after an editorial meeting-long span of time—there’s a knock on my door.

“Come in,” I say, and the person I most want to see enters.

I go to the door and shut it, then face Bryn with a well, I’m waiting look.

“So, don’t know if you heard the news,” she says, flopping onto my couch wearing a knowing grin.

“Gee, what news would that be?” I ask, sitting next to her.

She sighs happily. “I hope you’re not annoyed, but I had a revelation this morning about what I wanted, and I had to do it this way.”

I dispel any notion that I am or could be annoyed with a quick shake of my head. “Not in the least. I completely understand.”

“Thank you. I’m excited about this.”

“As you should be. And what you did, it was . . . hot.”

She laughs then gives me an is that so look. “Really?”

I nod, running my gaze along her legs, up her waist to her breasts, and then letting it settle on those gorgeous green eyes. “So hot. Watching you just lay down the law. Make those decisions. Go full lady boss.”

“Glad you liked it.”