Because I want the same thing she does—I want us to try spending more than one night a year together.
I call out her name a few times, but she’s out like a light. She always was a heavy sleeper.
And I take advantage. For the next half hour, I pour out my heart to her.
I tell her everything.
I confess that I don’t love Gigi and that we’ve never even kissed. And that the reason why we married is complicated.
I explain how Gigi’s inheritance she’s due to come into when she turns twenty in six months has an old-fashioned sexist clause in it that prevents her from taking any of the money unless she’s married. She didn’t trust any of the men in her social circle, didn’t believe they wouldn’t try to blackmail her or take advantage of the situation some other way because of her father’s power and influence. She thought they’d also want a piece of her inheritance.
I promised her I didn’t want anything other than to make sure Benjamin Henwood never has to go to jail or lose his family business. She said she could get that done, that her father was not really a bad man at heart and that he would drop his plan out of respect to a son-in-law. And that she’d get his promise in writing prior to us marrying.
She also said she’d make sure that whatever evidence and legal documents her father had put together would be permanently deleted before we end our marriage.
So, once our agreement was in place, the two of us went to work. We agreed that we’ll divorce after six months due to irreconcilable differences, and that will be the end of it.
Gigi checked the fine print of her inheritance with a private attorney to make certain she didn’t have to stay married for one minute longer than it takes her to get that money deposited into her account.
She wouldn’t have to return it due to a divorce under any circumstances other than fraud.
And fraud is what we’re committing with this marriage. That’s why we can’t breathe a word of our plan to anyone.
I brush a stray hair off Macey’s soft cheek, and she sighs in her sleep.
And I whisper, “Macey, in order for this plan to work, I have to stay quiet. Even though it’s killing me to keep it from you. Even though it breaks my heart to see the pain in your eyes every time you see me with Gigi and you think I don’t notice you looking.
“I always notice you, Macey. I always will. And I’ll do whatever I have to do to make sure you don’t have to keep paying for your father’s sins.
“Just like you did for me.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Macey
I feel so good when I wake up. My body is heavy from a deep, satisfying sleep, and my mind doesn’t immediately race to the next task on my to-do list. I reach out and curl my arm around—
Logan?
I open my eyes. Logan’s underneath me.Underneathme. My head’s on his chest, and my hand’s on his bare bicep. Our legs are intertwined and—
Whyam I on top of him?
I look around. We’re on his couch at the cottage. Last night’s events slowly return to my consciousness. The diary entries—God, that was intense and unplanned—and then he gave me that amazing painting.
I remember I said I was hungry, so Logan went into the kitchen, and when he returned, I had the TV on some cable channel.
“Ah, vintage Dallas.” Logan sat next to me and handed me a spoon. “My mom’s favorite old show.”
“Mama’s, too.”
I looked at the ice-cream container on his lap.
“Banana Split.” I dug into the pint. “Yum.”
“Is J.R. shot yet?” Logan asked as his spoon bumped mine while we both reached for ice cream. “Is Bobby dead? Or is he alive again?”
“Looks like it’s an early year,” I said. “None of those sacred events have happened yet.”
