The long, overdrawn beat of silence fills the bar. It feels like a warning. And then Logan says in a hoarse tone?—
“I’m getting married.”
30
I stare at Logan with wide eyes.
“You’re…engaged?” My voice comes out high and squeaky.
That one little word hits me like a kick to the stomach.
For the briefest of moments, Logan returns my gaze, and I think I see a glimmer of his real self return. But he breaks the eye contact by giving a quick nod and grabbing his motorcycle helmet.
“When?” I can barely get the word out.
He clears his throat. “On my trip. I met…” He fiddles with the helmet in his hand, nearly dropping it.
Then, he does drop it, and we both watch it roll across The Cowherd floor.
I react first. I step past him and bend down. Picking up the helmet in both hands, I turn to face him. His eyes are on me, but his expression is impassive.
Trying to get him to blink, I toss his precious helmet in the air and then pretend like I’m not going to catch it.
I do, of course, but when I glance back at Logan, he hasn’t even moved.
“You’re not smiling.” I say it flatline.
“Why would I be?” he asks me. “I’m telling you a fact, not a joke.”
“You just told me you’re freaking getting married,” I say in a sharp tone. “I would think you’d be showing off all your teeth. This is supposed to be a good thing. Right?”
Logan steps closer to me, and I think he’s going to break form and tell me he’s kidding. That this whole last few minutes has just been a terrible joke and I’m being punked by the mayor’s son, who’s always loved a good prank. But when Logan reaches me, all he does is take the helmet out of my hands.
I cross my arms over my chest protectively. “Logan.”
He grips the helmet in his right hand so hard his knuckles turn white. “Mace. Let’s just get through this, okay?” His eyes plead with me to understand.
“Who is she?” My voice sounds foreign to my own ears. “What’s her name?”
“Gigi.” His tone is neutral, and I can’t read it at all.
Gigi.
He digs his teeth into his bottom lip, that lip I love to nibble and kiss. But not anymore. Because from now on, Logan Wild will be doing all of those things with another woman. A woman named Gigi.
The silence between us extends so long it’s almost awkward. And I don’t know that I’ve ever felt awkward with Logan before. Not in the twenty-plus years I’ve known him.
He turns to leave. “I’ll come back to pick up the divorce papers.”
I follow him to the front door. I watch him walk away from me and over to his Harley. He puts on his helmet, kicks the vintage bike into gear, and drives down the long gravel driveway bordering The Cowherd. When he hits the bend that leads to Wild Ranch, I lose sight of him.
And my heart breaks in half.
Logan Wild is getting married. And I wasn’t prepared for the overwhelming feeling of devastation swallowing me up.
I’ve lost my best friend. Forever.
I lean against the porch of The Cowherd and glance down at my hand.
