So much had changed since the night I sat in the Italian restaurantIl Tempesto, bawling my eyes out as Annie proposed to Zoey—both for the good and the bad. But the changes I was most grateful for were the twists of fate that had brought me to this moment, standing on Zoey’s side of the aisle in my black bridesmaid’s dress. All of Zoey and Annie’s bridesmaids were lined up, awaiting the change in music that would signal the brides’ big entrance. Across from me, on Annie’s side, Lee stood proud in her own black dress, which was grander and fluffier than the rest of ours to denote her status as Annie’s maid of honor (a difference she’d insisted on). Behind Lee stood Claire, Mac, and Annie’s older sister, Karen. On Zoey’s side, I was squished between Layla and Helen, the actress and glassblower from the bachelorette, as well as Zoey’s beaming mother, who was Zoey’s matron of honor. Apparently, traditions were to Zoey what they were to Logan: things to be nodded at, then ignored. How funny that I’d given my heart to so many rule breakers.
On the other side of the wedding arch, Lee swished her ball gown to get my attention. “This venue is gorgeous, isn’t it?” She glanced back at Mac, who stood behind her. “Sorry Mac, but this is the best Macoween yet.”
Halloween fell on Mac’s birthday, so Lee and her friends had called it Macoween ever since college. According to them, it was a magical night, bringing good luck to all. Lee used to swear she couldn’t get hungover after Macoween, though recently she’d conceded that she may have confused the power of Macoween with the power of her twenties.
“I’m okay with that,” Mac said. “It’s Annie and Zoey’s year to get the lion’s share of the Macoween magic.”
We stood in an old renovated church, surrounded by brick walls and exposed wooden beams. The walls were lit golden by flickering candles and hung with art from the Tite Street Artist Collective, none of which was technically appropriate for a wedding—a few of the older guests couldn’t stop staring at a painting of a bare-chested mermaid, for example. White flowers trailed from the chairs guests slid into, and a string quartet sat in the corner playing dreamy music. It was a mash-up of elegant and playful, perfectly Annie and Zoey.
The music started to swell. I straightened to attention with the rest of the bridesmaids, eyes keyed on the place the brides would make their entrance, then caught movement out of the corner of my eye. A last-minute guest dashed to their seat. I turned to glare, then gasped.
It was Logan, in a tuxedo, ducking into a chair.
Our eyes locked and a warm grin spread over his face.Hi,he mouthed, then,Wait, you know them?He pointed at where Annie and Zoey would arrive, feigning shock.
“Is thatLogan?” Lee hissed.
“Shh,” Claire reprimanded.
He washere. But we weren’t supposed to be anywhere near each other. What was he doing?
“I think someone else might’ve gotten the Macoween magic this year,” Lee whispered.
I couldn’t drag my eyes from Logan. He was looking at me like I was the one walking down the aisle toward him, and I was everything he’d ever wanted... My whole body tingled, almost painfully alive.
Then the quartet started the bridal procession and Logan rose with the other guests, breaking our stare. Zoey appeared, radiant in a white dress, arm in arm with her father, and everything except my pounding heart, filled to the brim with love and pride, faded away.
Once Annie and Zoey kissed to an explosion of cheering and the bridesmaids swept after them down the aisle, andthenwe posed for twelve million pictures, we were finally let loose for cocktail hour. I practically ran into the white tent in the garden, scanning the tables, the dance floor, the people at the bar. No Logan. My heart dropped. Had I hallucinated him? I wouldn’t put it past me.
“Alexis.” A deep voice came from behind me.Thevoice.
I let my eyes flutter closed for a second before I turned. When I did, I drank him in. Sharp suit, sharp jaw, sharp eyes. I took a deep breath. “What are you doing here?”
He held out a champagne flute. “Zoey invited me. I hope that’s okay.”
Just like her bachelorette party, Zoey had invited Logan without telling me. That beautiful, wonderful traitor. I took the glass from him, downed it, and set it aside, ignoring his raised eyebrows. “But we’re not allowed near each other. What about the election?”
His eyes grew dark and serious. “I came to ask if, for tonight, we could pretend there was no election. Just be ourselves—be normal. I’ll be a hot-headed Tottenham fan with a swearing problem, and you can be a brilliant, softhearted storyteller.” The corners of his mouth tugged up. “Who looks really good in a cardigan, as I was reminded of recently.”
I felt my cheeks heat.Caught. “The debate was free and open to the public—wait, that’s not the point.” The urge to protect him was too strong. “If someone catches us... Logan, the election’s only days away.”
He shook his head. “The campaign has taken enough. I just want one night.” He held out his hand. “Please—dance with me?”
I looked at the dance floor. Never one for tradition, Zoey and Annie had opened it early, but only Zoey’s grandparents swayed to the soft music. “Everyone will stare.”
He gave me a crooked grin. “That’s never stopped us before.”
Logan Arthur looked like a prince in a midnight-black tuxedo, his hand extended. Behind him, the quartet ran their bows slowly across slender strings, and the light from the candles made the tent glow, giving him a soft, diffused halo. This was a scene from a dream if there ever was one. For the first time, I allowed myself to sink into it, sliding my fingertips across his palm. He curled his hand around mine and led me to the dance floor.
We drew close, his other arm circling my waist. The heat of his body relaxed me, and I rested my head on his shoulder. I could feel people’s eyes, but suddenly I didn’t care. This was my dream, after all.
“You know.” Logan spoke softly into my ear, making me shiver. “I only went to the Fleur de Lis that night to blow off steam after a bad day.”
I took a deep inhale of his woodsy-berry scent and pictured him the night we met, sleeves rolled up and expression weary, but with that spark in his eyes. The stranger-turned-surprise-defender. The beautiful troublemaker.
“The bar was close to the office, and I thought, hey, why not stop in and have one drink, then go home. That’s what I had every intention of doing. Until I met you.”
I looked up at him, unable to stop myself from teasing. “And what, you figured a night with me would unwind you better?”
