The kid may be years younger than me, but he’s always been a hell of lot more even-tempered.
Blake stands up, and Ben keeps his arms around him until he’s sure the two of us are done trying to take each other out.
I get up, dusting the grass off my pants.
Macey walks slowly down the three porch steps. She takes her time getting to us, and when she does, she looks between Blake and me for several seconds before saying, “I never could take you boys anywhere.”
“Mace…” Blake starts to say, but she cuts him off with a wave of her hand in the air.
Her whiskey eyes are smoldering with emotion.
“I don’t want to know what you two are fighting over. But doing it on Cowherd Whiskey property when there’s a crowd of people, a reporter,anda cameraman inside? That’s unacceptable. We’re trying to keep the bar afloat, not lose it because ofmoredrama and more bad press.”
I swallow, and Blake looks contrite as he mumbles an apology. Macey sends him back inside, and Ben follows.
I reach for Macey’s hand. “I’m sorry…”
She pulls her hand back as Jamie comes down the steps. “Save it for later,” she says to me, her face unreadable. “Jamie and I were about to have a romantic moment of looking at the stars together.”
* * *
Macey
I’m bluffing to Logan. Jamie and I do look at the stars after Logan disappears back inside, but the moment is stilted and awful. I try to explain my relationship with Logan to him, but I don’t think he has a clue what to say. I wouldn’t either.
I lead him back inside the bar, and by closing time, I’m single again. Not that I was ever truly taken.
Jamie and I break up in a very public, very uncomfortable fashion after he’s had a few drinks and accuses me of lying to him about my marriage to Logan. We’re standing by the bar, but Logan witnesses the entire exchange, as do Skip, my parents, and God knows who else.
Jamie storms out of the saloon, and I step outside after him, not sorry to see him leave. He refuses to take back the commitment ring, telling me it’s not worth enough to get a refund.
Ouch.
I stand out on the porch and listen to the familiar popping sounds from the backyard across the street. Over a month early, but the Hanson boys say every day is Independence Day for those of us lucky enough to be born in the great state of Texas. Red, white, and blue colors light up the Hill Country sky for a good twenty seconds as I slowly but surely work Jamie’s ring off my finger and into my jeans pocket. And then, I walk inside to the bathroom where I kneel down alone by the toilet and flush the ring into the water until I’m sure it’s drowned.
When I return from the restroom, George and Ben insist I take a break while they put up the chairs and kick everyone out.
I walk to the liquor room and spend a few minutes patting Mr. Bingley and getting him his food. Then, I leave on my desk light—I know I really must be off if I’m letting Mama talk me into giving Jane Austen’s ghost a nightlight—and head for the picnic table behind the bar.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I take my diary out of my purse but change my mind about reading it. Instead, I lie down on my back on the picnic table and look up at the stars. Another perfectly dark night here in Hill Country, and the Big Dipper and Orion shine clearly.
Just me and the night. It feels good. It feels simple. It feels so unlike my life right now. I miss the days when Logan and I would camp out together. I miss Logan.
The door creaks open and Logan appears beside me. Lying down next to me and incorrectly pointing out the Little Dipper. You always were the worst star-gazer, I tell him. He tells me to shut up, but he smiles.
“I thought you were in the liquor room. Your desk light is on.”
“Long story involving my mother,” I say. “Don’t ask.”
I reach over to move my purse out from under his legs and onto the bench. Logan watches the movement of my hand carefully.
“What’d you do with your ring?” he says.
“Another long story.”
“Want to talk about it? What happened with him?”
