Updated Nov 27, 2025 • ~8 min read
Jo tried not to think about Marissa.
She really tried.
But her brain had other plans.
For two days, she spiraled. Creating scenarios, imagining conversations, convincing herself that Logan was going to realize his ex was better.
“You’re being ridiculous,” Erika said over video call.
“I know.”
“Then stop.”
“I can’t. My brain won’t let me.”
“Logan loves you. He chose you. Multiple times.”
“But what if—”
“No what-ifs!”
Jo knew Erika was right. Logically, she knew. But anxiety didn’t care about logic.
On day three, Jo decided to surprise Logan at the shop again. Bring lunch, show him she trusted him, prove to herself that everything was fine.
It was a good plan.
Right up until she rounded the corner and saw Logan outside the shop, talking to Marissa.
Jo stopped walking.
They weren’t touching. Weren’t even standing that close. Just talking.
But Marissa was laughing at something, and Logan was almost-smiling, and Jo’s stomach dropped straight through the sidewalk.
She should keep walking. Should trust him. Should not spiral.
But then Marissa reached out and adjusted Logan’s collar—casual, familiar, intimate—and Jo’s feet moved backward instead of forward.
She turned and walked away before either of them could see her.
At home, Jo paced her apartment while Olive watched with concerned eyes.
“I’m being crazy,” Jo told the dog. “Right? That was nothing. They were just talking.”
Olive whined.
“But she touched his collar. That’s intimate. You don’t touch someone’s collar unless you’re intimate.”
More whining.
“I should text him. Ask about it. Communication is healthy.”
Jo pulled out her phone. Typed and deleted three different messages.
Finally settled on: How’s your day going?
Safe. Casual. Not accusatory.
Logan: Busy. Client ran long. Miss you.
Jo: Miss you too. Anything interesting happen?
Logan: Not really. Just the usual. You okay?
Was she okay? No. Not even a little bit.
But saying that felt like admitting she was spiraling again.
Jo: Fine. Just checking in.
Logan: You’re being weird.
Jo: I’m not being weird.
Logan: You’re using proper punctuation and complete sentences. You’re definitely being weird.
Jo: Maybe I’m trying to be more professional in my texting.
Logan: Jo. What’s wrong?
Jo: Nothing. I’m fine.
Logan: I’m coming over after work.
Jo: You don’t have to.
Logan: I want to. Something’s bothering you. We’re going to talk about it.
Jo: Okay.
Jo spent the next two hours convincing herself she was being irrational. Marissa was just visiting. Logan had been clear about his feelings. Jo was creating problems that didn’t exist.
Then Logan arrived, and one look at his face told her something was wrong.
“Okay,” he said, stepping inside. “I saw Marissa today.”
Jo’s stomach dropped. “Oh?”
“She came by the shop again. I was outside taking a call, she showed up, we talked for maybe five minutes. That’s it.”
“Did she touch you?”
Logan paused. “She fixed my collar. It was sticking up. Why?”
“I saw you.”
Understanding dawned on Logan’s face. “You came by the shop.”
“I was going to surprise you with lunch again. Saw you two talking. Saw her touch you. Left before you could see me.”
“Jo—”
“And I know I’m being ridiculous. I know you said it was nothing. But she keeps showing up and she’s so comfortable with you and what if she wants you back? What if you realize she’s better for you than I am?”
The words tumbled out in a rush. All the fear and insecurity she’d been holding in.
Logan crossed the room and pulled her into his arms. “Stop.”
“I can’t. I keep spiraling and—”
“Jo. Stop. Look at me.”
She did. Logan’s eyes were serious, intense.
“I don’t want Marissa. I don’t want anyone but you. She could show up every day for a year and it wouldn’t change how I feel.”
“But she’s perfect for you. She’s in your world, understands your art, doesn’t come with all my baggage—”
“She’s not perfect for me. You are. Baggage and all. Every anxious, overthinking, beautiful part of you.”
“What if you change your mind?”
“I won’t.”
“You can’t know that.”
Logan took her face in his hands. “I can. Because I’ve dated perfect. I’ve dated easy. I’ve dated women who fit into my world seamlessly. And none of it meant anything. Not like this. Not like you.”
“But—”
“No buts. Jo, I love you. Not despite your anxiety or your chaos or your tendency to spiral. I love all of it. It’s part of who you are. And who you are is the person I want to spend forever with.”
Jo’s eyes filled with tears. “You can’t say things like that.”
“Why not?”
“Because it makes me believe you.”
“Good. Believe me. Please believe me.”
“I’m trying. But every time I see her, every time she shows up, it reminds me that you could have someone easier. Someone less complicated.”
“I don’t want easier. I want you.”
Logan wiped her tears with his thumbs. “What can I do? How can I prove it?”
“I don’t know. My brain knows you’re telling the truth. But my anxiety keeps creating worst-case scenarios.”
“Then we’ll deal with them together. Every spiral, every fear. I’m not going anywhere, Jo. No matter how many times Marissa shows up. No matter how much you spiral. I’m here.”
Jo wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. “I’m sorry. I hate being like this.”
“Don’t apologize for your feelings. But talk to me instead of spiraling alone. I can’t help if I don’t know what’s going on in your head.”
“My head is a disaster.”
“I know. I love that disaster.”
They stood like that for a long time, Logan holding her while Jo’s anxiety slowly quieted.
“She’s leaving tomorrow,” Logan said eventually. “Convention ends. She goes back to Seattle. And that’s it.”
“What if she comes back?”
“Then I’ll be polite but distant. Like I have been.”
“You’ve been distant?”
“Jo, I barely said twenty words to her total across both visits. She did most of the talking. I was professional but uninvested.”
“Really?”
“Really. You can ask Carlie. She was there for most of it. She actually commented that I seemed annoyed.”
That made Jo feel marginally better.
“I’m being crazy,” she said into his shirt.
“You’re being scared. There’s a difference.”
“Is there?”
“Yeah. Crazy would be if you actually believed I’d leave you for her. Scared is worrying about it even though you know I won’t.”
Jo pulled back to look at him. “When did you get so good at this?”
“At what?”
“Understanding me. Knowing exactly what to say.”
“I pay attention. And I’ve been reading articles about anxiety and relationships.”
“You have?”
“Yeah. Want to make sure I’m supporting you properly. Not making it worse.”
Jo’s chest filled with warmth. “You researched how to date someone with anxiety?”
“Of course. You’re important to me. Your mental health is important to me. Seemed like the smart thing to do.”
“I love you so much it’s terrifying.”
“I love you too. And I know it’s terrifying. But we’ll be terrified together.”
Jo kissed him. Soft and grateful and full of all the words she couldn’t quite articulate.
When they broke apart, Logan smiled. “Better?”
“Better. Still a little anxious, but better.”
“I can work with that.”
They ordered pizza and spent the evening on the couch. Logan told her about his day in detail—every client, every conversation, including the brief exchange with Marissa.
“She asked if we could stay in touch,” Logan said. “I said sure in that non-committal way that means no. She got the hint.”
“Really?”
“Really. I’m not interested in rekindling any kind of friendship with an ex when it makes my girlfriend uncomfortable. You’re the priority. Always.”
Jo snuggled closer. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For choosing me. For being patient with my spiraling. For researching anxiety instead of just telling me to get over it.”
“That’s basic boyfriend behavior. Don’t set your standards so low.”
“My standards used to be ‘doesn’t actively make things worse.’ You’ve significantly raised the bar.”
“Good. Keep those standards high. You deserve it.”
Later, as they were falling asleep, Jo said quietly, “I’m sorry I didn’t trust you.”
“You do trust me. Your anxiety doesn’t. There’s a difference.”
“Is there?”
“Yeah. Trust is a choice. Anxiety is a reaction. You chose to talk to me instead of running. That’s trust.”
Jo thought about that. Maybe he was right. Maybe trust wasn’t the absence of fear but choosing to stay despite it.
“I’m going to keep choosing you,” she said.
“Good. Because I’m definitely going to keep choosing you.”
Erika: How are you doing? Still spiraling about the ex?
Jo: Was spiraling. Logan talked me down. He’s been researching anxiety in relationships.
Erika: I’M SORRY HE WHAT
Jo: Researched how to support someone with anxiety so he wouldn’t make things worse.
Erika: MARRY HIM
Jo: We haven’t even been dating that long.
Erika: IRRELEVANT. MARRY HIM IMMEDIATELY.
Jo: You’re impossible.
Erika: I’m RIGHT.
Jo fell asleep wrapped in Logan’s arms, still anxious but significantly calmer.
The ex situation wasn’t perfect.
Her anxiety wasn’t magically cured.
But Logan had proven, once again, that he was in this for real.
That he chose her.
Every single time.
And maybe that was enough.
Maybe that was everything.
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