“And why do you have the Mr. Darcy cowboy hat and Ms. Bennet bonnet for the bride and groom?” Skip asks. “Does Vivian’s diary expressly call for that?”
Mama shakes her head. “Not precisely. The couples who’ve married here have just always worn them. I’m not sure how the tradition started, but the bride and groom must wear them.”
Jamie walks in the door, saving me from any more conversations about ghosts.
I wave and step out from behind the bar to greet him. Ginny calls out from Logan’s booth and invites us over to sit down.
They’re in the extra-large circular booth, the one that easily seats ten, but I try to say there isn’t enough room. My excuse disappears into the air when Blake immediately scoots closer to Logan and drags me into the seat next to him. Jamie slides in on my other side and puts his arm around me.
I introduce Jamie to the table, and everyone but Logan says hello.
Logan’s buzzed. He’d never be this cold to Jamie otherwise. Ginny gives me a look from across the table. Blake tries to stifle his laugh. Jamie looks from Ginny to Blake to me, trying to figure out what’s going on.
I clear my throat and ask Gigi to introduce me to her sisters. She apologizes for her lapse, blaming it on her glass of wine.
As her sisters say hello to me, I try to make small talk with them. But Logan won’t stop shooting daggers at Jamie—in between the glances he’s giving me behind Blake’s back.
Ginny gives me another look. Blake smirks, and this time, his laugh escapes out of his mouth. It’s a loud laugh, and Gigi asks him what’s so funny.
“Nothing.” Blake reaches for his beer as his bleach-blond hair falls across his forehead.
I elbow Blake in the side. “You always were a hellion, Blake Wild, even in the first grade when you ratted me out to Mrs. Carson for passing Ginny a note. And you always get away with it because you’re so good-looking.”
Blake’s straight white teeth shine in the dark bar. “I’ve just always liked uncovering a good mystery. You know what I mean, Macey?”
Logan noticeably flinches next to Blake.
Jamie whispers in my right ear. “What the hell’s going on? Am I missing something?”
“No,” I say. “Blake’s just trying to cause trouble.”
Blake turns to me and raises one eyebrow, and I know he’s trying to figure out the same thing I am—what the heck is up with Logan. But unlike Blake, I’m sober and in no mood to dissect Logan’s relationship.
“You coming to our engagement party?” Logan murmurs to me behind Blake’s back as Blake leans forward to say something to Dave.
“I am,” I say softly. “Are you excited for it?”
His whiskey eyes go so dull I blink.
“Logan? Are you sure you’re okay?”
He hesitates. Just enough that I notice.
“What is it?” I lean closer to him. Blake’s broad shoulders are a welcome shield from the rest of the booth. “You can tell me.”
Logan inhales sharply. “I’m okay. I promise.”
“Logan, seriously.” I reach out and put my hand on his shoulder. “If you need to talk, I’m here for you.”
I blink as a series of bright flashes goes off, and I turn to see Jon with his camera pointed straight at us.
I gesture at him to stop with the spontaneous picture-taking, but before I can turn back to Logan, Gigi’s sisters start exclaiming over me, from my “big” hair, to my “cute” accent, to the y’all I used when greeting them.
“Did you and Logan have sex a lot when you were married?” Miranda, the chattier of the two sisters, asks bluntly.
Blake spits his beer all over the table as he bursts out laughing.
I rear my head back until it hits the wooden back of the booth, and Jamie whips his head over to me.
