He nods once, eyelids falling, and smiles with such contentment that makes me want to never leave his side.
I open my notebook, scribbling half a chorus about burning skies and aching hearts. His breathing slows beside me, steadier now, and I feel my own shoulders begin to ease.
I close my eyes—just five minutes. . .
I wake with a jolt.
The room is dim, and the sun is already dipping toward late afternoon. I fumble for my phone. Three missed calls from Mom. Panic surges through me as I leap to my feet.
Logan’s still asleep, breathing calmly, his fever seemingly broken.
I grab my bag and slip out the door without a sound.
Ten minutes later, I arrive at the festival grounds, breathless and flushed and feeling a little guilty.
Mom glares at me from the middle of a grassy patch, clearly not happy with my tardiness.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, running up to her. “I fell asleep—Logan’s really sick, and—”
“You blew me off, Maisie,” she snaps, cutting through my excuses like they’re made of tissue paper. “We finished most of the prep without you.”
“He needed my help,” I try to explain, feeling like I’m eight years old again, caught sneaking cookies before dinner.
“So did I,” she says, her voice scornful. “I couldn’t even reach you. At least let me know what’s going on.”
“I’m sorry.” I rub my temples, where a headache is beginning to bloom. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
She looks at me over with a sigh. “This is exactly what I was afraid of.”
“What?”
“He’s a celebrity. He’s not good for you, Maisie.”
“Gee, thanks, Mom.”
“He’ll leave in the end and shatter your heart.”
“I told you—it’s not like that,” I lash out. My protest sounds hollow, even to my own ears.
“Then explain it to me.”
I can’t. Not without confessing everything—the fake relationship, the wedding, our ridiculous contract. I’m trapped in a web of lies of my own making.
“I told you, we’re just—”
“Friends, yes, I know,” she interjects, folding her arms over her chest. “Well, you might as well go back home. We’re done here anyway.”
And with that, she walks off, leaving me standing alone beneath a string of half-lit festival lights, my chest heavy with everything I’m keeping from her.
Chapter 16
The next week leading up to the Spring Festival flies by in a flurry of overwhelm. Between grading student tests, helping Mom tie pastel streamers at the festival grounds, and nursing Logan back from his fevered zombie state, I barely remember what day it is.
Things remain awkward between Mom and me. The glacier-sized chunk of ice that formed after I missed festival setup day hasn’t fully thawed. It doesn’t help that townsfolk stare at me and whisper behind cupped hands every time I show my face at Founders’ Square Park. They’re convinced I’m in a love triangle with Logan and Victoria Delacroix, and Mom believes I will get hurt again.
After three days of stilted conversations about the arrangement of stalls, I decide to make peace with her. I find my mother at the park tending to tulips near the bandstand.
“Need another set of hands?” I ask.
