The reverend bows, but before he can continue, my father stands up.
“That’s enough,” he says. “I was going to wait until after my daughter had her moment, but it looks like some things have a timeline of their own.”
He walks to the altar and asks Reverend Sands to step aside. And then, in a strong voice and with his head held high, my father tells the truth. The whole truth. About himself and his mistakes, and the way he hurt his wife and his children and even the women he hooked up with in the past.
He tells the town what Logan did for the woman he loved and how my father wishes that someday he could hope to be half the man his about-to-be son-in-law already is.
“Holy. Cowherd Whiskey,” Blake says loudly from behind Logan. “That’s a good dang reason for your crazy summer, Wild.” He slaps Logan on the back.
Mr. Wild is crying by the time Daddy finishes his confession. The entire chapel stands and applauds when Mama rises from her pew, puts her arm around Daddy, and leads him back to the front row.
I catch Skip’s eye, and he winks at me.
I smile back at him.
Now that the whole Gigi situation is out of the way, the reverend turns serious. I pull at my bonnet one last time, swearing to myself I can handle the itchiness for the next thirty minutes.
Logan’s gaze goes to my hand on the strings of the bonnet. And Reverend Sands has just started the service when Logan interrupts him.
“Sorry, but I need a minute with my fiancée.”
The gasps through the chapel are deafening.
“Is he going to back out?” Mrs. Rattles screeches. “Again?”
“Is he having cold feet?” someone else shouts.
Logan puts his arm firmly around me and turns us until our backs are to the crowd.
“Here’s the thing, baby,” he says in a low voice. “I’m not Darcy, and you’re not Elizabeth.”
“But you’re myreal-lifeMr. Darcy.” I squeeze his arm. “This is better than the romantic stories I read about my whole life.”
He takes my hand and kisses it. “And you outdo any fantasy I’ve ever had, hands down. But our love story is no fairy tale. It’s flawed, and the road’s been bumpy, and it’s not for the faint of heart. It’s real. Like us.”
Holy Jane Austen.
He’s freaking right.
For the first time since I put on my dress today, I completely relax.
I look up until my gaze meets his. “So even if you aremyMr. Darcy symbolically, you’re not Mr. Darcy. And I’m not Ms. Bennet. You’re my Logan Wild, and I’m your Macey Henwood.”
“Exactly. So can we ditch the hat and bonnet?” he asks me. “I’ll wear it if you really want me to. But you look like you’re about to rip yours off your head, and I don’t think we need them. I think they’re holding us back.”
I’m already untying the irritating knot of the strap under my chin. In less than five seconds, the bonnet’s in my hand, and I turn and toss it into the crowd.
People scream, my mother loudest of all, when the bonnet drops right into her lap.
“Macey, no! You finally met your Mr. Darcy,” she shouts. “Don’t throw it all away! You need the bonnet and hat on your heads, or else you and Logan can’t be the soul mates!”
Logan’s cowboy hat sails through the air right after. It lands at Skip’s feet.
Skip laughs. “I think these two might be the only ones who know what they’re doing. They’re writing their own love story, not following somebody else’s. Wasn’t that the real point behind Jane Austen’s novels?”
Mama glares at him as the whole room says in unison, “Skip, shut up.”
I wink at Skip as Logan and I turn back to Reverend Sands.
