Chapter Twenty-Seven
Macey
“Dave and I decided to wait,” Ginny says from my left.
I drag my gaze away from Logan and over to Ginny. “Logan mentioned that. So how come we got married, and you didn’t?”
Ginny shrugs as I force my attention to stay on her and not the man in the front who’s now officiallymyhusband.
“Why?” I whisper as Logan mercifully starts the engine and we leave the parking lot. The faster I get out of this city, the better.
“You mean you don’t remember?” Ginny’s eyes widen. “But you were so supportive!”
“I was supportive about what?” I keep my voice low, nervous that Logan will start pressing me again about what I do and do not remember about last night.
Good Lord.
“I decided if I’m going to get married, I want a real wedding in Texas Hill Country,” Ginny says. “In Darcy, of course. You’ll still be my maiden of honor because my two sisters would just fight over who deserved it more anyway. And you’re my best friend.”
“Of course, I’ll be there for you,” I say as I hug her.
“We’ll have to be quick before I’m showing too bad.” Ginny pauses. “I think beginning of July will work.”
“But that’s so soon!” I say.
She puts her hand on her belly. “July’s halfway to birth. It will have to do.”
I nod. “We’ll make it work. Everything will be perfect.”
Everything except for the fact that I have a so-called wedding band on my left ring finger from a man I shared a solemn vow with to never do this very thing.
* * *
The clock on Logan’s dash reads three-thirty a.m. when we finally pull off the I-10 and drive into the rolling Texas hills of Darcy. I glance out at the water tower situated at the top of the tallest hill in town. As we reach Main Street, my gaze follows the sturdy, whitewashed, limestone buildings that make up our downtown, especially the Darcy Museum with its welcome sign stating in big letters—
Darcy, Texas, A Romantic Towne: Come find your Mr. Darcy
The oversized Jane Austen statue is perched atop the town courthouse where the flag of Great Britain flies right next to those of Texas and the United States of America. In the center of Darcy Square, a giant poster of thePride and Prejudiceoriginal mini-series dangles from the corner building.
My eyes burn with fatigue, and I turn away from the damn romantic fairy tale that dominates our town.
“Gosh, I can smell the cow manure. We must be in Darcy.” Ginny lifts her head up and looks out the window.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” I say to her.
We hit one of Darcy’s two red lights going through town and sit there for over a minute without a single car passing us in any direction.
I can smell the mesquite trees, hear the crickets chirping, and I see Wild Ranch off in the distance. I didn’t appreciate how homesick I was until we landed.
I stare out the window at Darcy’s low-lit skyline of antique shops and church steeples. “It’s like we’re the only people awake in town.”
“For sure.” Ginny looks out at the dark, empty street. “Quite a change from the main drag of Vegas.”
After Logan drops Ginny and then Dave at home, I climb into the shotgun seat.
I glance over at Logan’s profile. His jaw is tight as he turns onto the lonesome dirt road by the lake. This is one of our favorite dirt roads, the one we’ve “gotten stuck on” so many times before, the road that watched over us for our first time. He pulls off to the side and stops the truck. I swallow and lower my gaze to my left hand.
“It will be okay, Mace.”
