Updated Nov 27, 2025 • ~9 min read
The annual building barbecue was, according to Anderson Alcott, “mandatory fun for community bonding.”
Jo had been dreading it since the notice appeared on her door two weeks ago.
Large social gatherings where she had to make small talk with strangers? Her personal nightmare.
But Anderson had made it clear: attendance was expected. The building community took these events seriously.
“Just go for an hour,” Erika advised over the phone. “Show your face, eat a burger, leave. Easy.”
“What if people want to talk to me?”
“Then talk back. You’re a functional adult human.”
“Debatable.”
“Logan will be there, right? Stick with him.”
“Won’t that look like we’re attached at the hip?”
“You ARE attached at the hip. You’ve spent every night together for two weeks.”
“That’s different. That’s private.”
“Jo. You’re overthinking again.”
She was. Of course she was.
The barbecue was set up in the building’s courtyard—tables, grills, string lights creating ambiance. Someone had brought a speaker playing classic rock. The smell of grilling meat filled the air.
Jo arrived fashionably late (read: anxiously procrastinating) with Olive on her leash. The dog, fully healed now, was excited by all the new people and smells.
“There’s my favorite tenant!” Anderson called out, waving her over. “And Olive! She’s looking great.”
“All healed,” Jo confirmed. “Barely a scar.”
“Wonderful. Help yourself to food. Burgers on the left grill, hot dogs on the right. Drinks in the cooler.”
Jo was heading toward the food table when a voice called out, “Jo! Over here!”
She turned to find Logan standing with a small group of people, beer in hand, looking unfairly attractive in dark jeans and a gray t-shirt.
Jo’s heart did that annoying flutter thing.
She made her way over with Olive, who immediately recognized Logan and strained against the leash.
“Hey, troublemaker,” Logan greeted the dog before looking at Jo. His eyes softened. “Hey.”
“Hey yourself.”
The people Logan was talking to—two couples Jo vaguely recognized from the building—were watching their interaction with barely concealed interest.
“You must be Jolene,” one woman said. She was probably in her fifties, with kind eyes and a friendly smile. “I’m Maggie. Fourth floor. I’ve heard so much about you.”
“You have?”
“From Logan. He talks about you constantly.”
Logan’s ears went slightly pink. Jo filed that under ‘Adorable Things Logan Does When Embarrassed.’
“All good things, I hope,” Jo said.
“Exclusively good things. He mentioned you’re a graphic designer?”
“I am. Freelance. Mostly branding and web design.”
“How wonderful! And you two met through Olive, is that right?”
Jo and Logan exchanged a glance.
“Something like that,” Logan said.
“Actually, Olive kept peeing on Logan’s doormat,” Jo admitted. “We met through property damage.”
The group laughed.
“That’s the most unique meet-cute I’ve ever heard,” another woman said. “I’m Halle, by the way. Third floor. My husband Vince.”
Vince nodded hello. “So you’re the infamous Olive. We’ve heard about your doormat adventures.”
Olive, hearing her name, wagged her tail enthusiastically.
“She’s reformed now,” Jo said. “Mostly.”
“Thanks to Logan,” Anderson interjected, joining their circle. “He helped with the training. Very generous of him.”
“Well, I had motivation,” Logan said, his hand finding Jo’s lower back in a gesture so natural she barely noticed. “Couldn’t have my girlfriend’s dog getting evicted.”
Girlfriend.
Said so casually. So publicly. Like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Jo’s heart raced.
“Girlfriend!” Maggie clapped her hands together. “I knew it! Didn’t I say they were dating, Halle?”
“You absolutely called it.”
“How long have you two been together?” Vince asked.
“Few weeks,” Logan said. “Officially.”
“Though it feels longer,” Jo added.
Logan squeezed her hip gently. “In a good way.”
“Definitely in a good way.”
They were gazing at each other like idiots. Jo realized this and looked away, face heating.
The group was eating it up.
“You’re adorable together,” Maggie declared. “Absolutely adorable.”
“The grumpy tattoo artist and the sunshine designer,” Halle added. “It’s like a romance novel.”
“That’s what Erika says,” Jo admitted.
“Erika’s your friend?” Maggie asked.
“Best friend. She’s been very invested in our relationship from day one.”
“She predicted this?” Logan asked.
“She predicted this during doormat incident number two. Said you were going to fall for me.”
“She was right.”
The casual admission made Jo’s breath catch.
“Have you two done the L-word yet?” Maggie asked, then immediately backtracked. “Sorry, that’s too invasive. Ignore me.”
“No, we haven’t,” Jo said before she could overthink it. “But we’re getting there.”
Logan looked at her, something soft and warm in his expression. “Yeah. We are.”
The party continued around them. More neighbors came over to introduce themselves, all curious about the infamous Logan-and-Jo situation that apparently everyone in the building had been watching unfold.
“We wondered if you’d ever figure it out,” one neighbor admitted. “The way he looked at you in the hallway was so obvious.”
“How did I look at her?” Logan asked.
“Like she was the only person who existed.”
“That’s accurate,” Logan said without embarrassment.
Jo wanted to crawl into a hole and also kiss him senseless.
They got food—burgers for both of them, because Logan remembered she preferred cheese and pickles only—and found a spot at one of the tables.
“You told everyone I’m your girlfriend,” Jo said quietly.
“Is that okay? Should I have asked first?”
“No, it’s perfect. Just caught me off guard.”
“We are dating. Exclusively. You have my art on your skin. Seems pretty official.”
“Very official.”
“So why wouldn’t I tell people?”
“I don’t know. Some guys like to keep things private.”
Logan’s hand found hers under the table. “I’m not some guys. And I’m not hiding you. If anything, I want everyone to know you’re with me so they stop asking if I’m single.”
“People ask that?”
“Constantly. Apparently brooding tattoo artists are very attractive to certain demographics.”
“Are they now?”
“So I’ve been told. But I’m taken. Happily.”
Jo squeezed his hand. “Happily?”
“Incredibly. You?”
“Same. Happier than I’ve been in a long time.”
They ate their burgers while Olive worked her charm on various neighbors, collecting pets and scraps and generally living her best life.
“She’s in her element,” Logan observed.
“She loves attention. Could charm anyone.”
“Got that from her mom.”
“I don’t charm people.”
“Abbott, you charmed me. That’s a significant accomplishment.”
“How?”
“You kept showing up. Kept trying. Even when I was difficult. Even when Olive kept ruining my doormats. You didn’t give up.”
“I was causing property damage. Of course I kept showing up.”
“No. You could have left it at one apology and avoided me. But you didn’t. You engaged. Made jokes. Brought replacement mats and poisoned muffins. You drew me in without even trying.”
Jo’s throat tightened. “Logan—”
“Just stating facts.”
“You’re really good at this.”
“At what?”
“Saying exactly what I need to hear.”
“I pay attention.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true.”
As the sun set, string lights came on, creating a warm glow over the courtyard. Someone started a fire in the pit. S’more supplies appeared.
“Want to make s’mores?” Logan asked.
“I’m terrible at s’mores. I always burn the marshmallows.”
“I’ll handle the marshmallows. You handle the assembly.”
They moved to the fire pit, joining the cluster of neighbors roasting marshmallows. Logan was surprisingly good at it, achieving perfect golden-brown marshmallows while Jo prepared the graham crackers and chocolate.
“You’re full of hidden talents,” Jo observed.
“I contain multitudes.”
“You absolutely do.”
They made four s’mores between them—two perfect ones and two where Jo insisted on trying to roast her own marshmallow and predictably set it on fire.
“I warned you,” Logan said, watching her burnt marshmallow drip into the flames.
“I’m an optimist. I thought maybe this time would be different.”
“That’s actually kind of sweet.”
“Or delusional.”
“Both can be true.”
Around nine, the party started winding down. Neighbors began heading inside, calling goodnights and compliments about what a cute couple Logan and Jo made.
“We’re official building gossip now,” Jo said as they walked toward the entrance, Olive trotting between them.
“Good. Keeps people entertained.”
“You don’t mind?”
“Why would I? They’re right. We are cute together.”
“Very confident.”
“Very honest.”
At Jo’s door, they paused. Logan lived one floor down, but he’d been staying over most nights anyway.
“You coming in?” Jo asked.
“If that’s okay.”
“Always okay.”
Inside, they got ready for bed with the comfortable efficiency of people who’d done this before. Logan borrowed the same drawer he always used. Jo grabbed the extra toothbrush that had become “Logan’s toothbrush.”
In bed, they lay facing each other, close but not quite touching.
“Today was good,” Jo said.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Scary at first. But good. I liked people knowing about us.”
“Me too.”
“Maggie asked if we’d done the L-word.”
“I heard.”
“You said we’re getting there.”
“We are.”
“How do you know?”
Logan reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Because I feel it. Every time you laugh at my terrible jokes. Every time you stress about your work. Every time Olive does something ridiculous and you look at me like we’re sharing a secret. I feel it building.”
“Scary.”
“Terrifying.”
“But good?”
“The best.”
Jo shifted closer, until their noses were almost touching. “I think I’m getting there too. The L-word place.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Not quite there yet. But close. Really close.”
Logan smiled. “I can wait.”
“You’re very patient.”
“With you? Always.”
They fell asleep like that, hands clasped, foreheads touching, balanced on the edge of something big and beautiful and terrifying.
And for once, Jo didn’t overthink it.
She just felt it.
All of it.
The happiness and the fear and the hope and the certainty that this—whatever this was—was real.
And maybe, just maybe, it was forever.
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