That's How it Happens

38. Rumer Confirmed

Leo pushed through the building's doors. Fortunately, Ashley was too busy signing for a package to notice him. He wasn't in the mood to chat. He came here for one thing: his lucky notepad — technically a collection of notepads, but all neatly organized in a portfolio, thanks to Ainsley.

He almost growled with frustration. He was sick of her popping into his thoughts.

Besides, he was in a strange mood. He'd even tried going to the coffee shop, knowing it was a bad call, just to create some sort of normalcy — without her. But when he placed his order, the barista smiled — they always did — and flirted — they always did — and he hadn't cared. He wasn't sure what had him off his game, but it definitely took a hit on his ego. He didn't even get a number.

He drummed his fingers on the elevator bar, staring at his watch. Had this thing always taken forever? The woman who'd jumped on at the previous floor had hurriedly gotten off at the next, and he was almost positive she didn't work in that department.

Finally, he stepped out and moved toward his office. He pushed open the door and froze.

"What the f—" The rest of the sentence dissolved into a horror‑filled scream - high‑pitched, panicked, like a kid who'd just seen a ghost.

Leo's shriek came right after, three octaves higher. "What are you doing?!"

Jackson, scrambling for his shirt, shot back, "What the hell does it look like?"

"It looks like you're bumping uglies in my office!" Leo's voice cracked, horrified.

The scene was a mess: Jackson fumbling with buttons, April – the mannequin?! - diving for her bag, Leo flapping his arms like he was trying to fan away the trauma.

"Why are you even here?" Jackson barked, flustered.

"In my office?" Leo snapped back, voice still pitched high. "If you must know, I'm getting my lucky notebook!"

Jackson squinched his face, pure wtf. "Why?"

"Well, if you must know!" Leo shot back, chin high. "I have to finish Kasey. What are you doing with the mannequin!?"

Jackson just stared at him, incredulous.

"My God, you two are insufferable," April snapped, slinging her bag over her shoulder. She jabbed a finger at Leo. "You sound like an old woman." Then she swung on Jackson. "And you sound like a little girl who dropped her ice cream. Who even screams like that?"

"Don't judge me," Jackson shot back, hitching a thumb at Leo. "Better than sounding like him. He hit notes Mariah Carey couldn't reach."

"Speak for yourself!" Leo barked, voice still pitched high. "At least I was on key. You sounded like a balloon dying at a birthday party."

April pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering, "Idiots." She let the word hang, then lifted her gaze, eyes narrowing on Leo. "And what in the bloody hell did you do to Ainsley? I left you alone with her for one evening."

Leo scoffed, pointing at himself. "What did I do???" He laughed, sharp and defensive. "Get the hell out of here — you're fired!"

"For the hundredth time," April muttered. She gave him a once‑over, lips curling. "Thank God she came to her senses. You've got the dramatics of Nicolas Cage in a tax commercial and the spine of a jellyfish."

Then she turned on Jackson. "And you — honestly, darling, if you're going to let your friend debase you, at least acknowledge it doesn't have a pulse."

Jackson smirked. "That mannequin is still better company than you."

April muttered something in French. "I am the mannequin, you halfwit."