I lose balance, my body lurching sideways. The next thing I know, I’m airborne for one suspended, horrifying moment before plunging into the water.
I resurface coughing, hair clinging to my face like seaweed.
Logan reaches for me from the jet ski, panic written across his features. “Maisie, grab my hand!”
He hoists me up with an ease that would be impressive if I wasn’t busy shivering so much.
“That wasnotan accident,“ I say, wringing out my dripping hair.
He looks toward the boat disappearing in the distance, his jaw clenching. “No, it wasn’t.”
“I want to go back.” Our fun is spoiled, much like this entire weekend.
In the evening, Logan fires up the grill outside while I’m in the kitchen grabbing plates, trying to ignore the fact that Victoria has claimed the master bedroom—mybedroom—citing allergies to the guest room’s musty decor.
Speaking of the devil, Victoria struts downstairs in an expensive outfit, like she’s trying to show it off on purpose, and corners me near the fridge like a predator who’s spotted easy prey. “Finally, we get a chance to talk.”
“I have nothing to say to you.” I start walking toward the door, plates clutched to my chest like a shield.
“But I do,” she says, stepping in front of me, blocking my escape. “The label wants Logan focused. You being here—it’s not good for business.”
I step up and lift my chin, meeting those cold, calculating eyes. “The way I see it, I’m not the one in the way.”
“You really think this will end with some fairytale romance?” She sneers. “Newsflash. You’re just a chapter.I’mthe story.”
She’s so full of herself she could float away if she wasn’t weighed down by that awful personality. “All stories come to an end and new ones begin.” I deliver the line with more confidence than I feel, leaving her momentarily astounded as I head straight out the door before she can gather herself again.
Dinner is a disaster. The food’s great—Logan sure knows his way around a grill—but the company is more unbearable than a dinner alone with the creepy Mr. Collins would be. I consume my grilled chicken at the speed of a competitive eater, desperate to flee the awkward silence stretching between the three of us. Logan’s body language suggests he wants nothing to do with Victoria while her glares make it clear I should scram.
Logan brings up the jet-ski incident and he’s not holding back at all. The accusatory tone doesn’t seem to bother her as she tells him he’s imagining things. I’d bet money that they’ve fought like this before. I’d even drop my two cents if it weren’t for my sensing their argument, which leaves me segueing from feeling awkward to uncomfortable faster than a wood packer hammers on a tree, is more than just about the jet-ski. There’s something deeper, unresolved between them. I wolf down the rest of my meal and leave them at each other’s throats before the hostility turns on me for whatever reason.
Later that night, tucked into the guest room bed, I hear voices outside. The digital clock on the nightstand blinks 11:42 p.m. I rise quietly to peek out the window.
Logan and Victoria walk into the woods together, her hand on his arm, and I gasp. Not a casual midnight stroll—this looks secretive, intentional.
It’s like I’m living my worst nightmare. What are they up to? I must know.
I slip on shoes and go out the back door, careful not to step on any tree branches as I tiptoe after them. Each breath comes shallow, my chest tight with anticipation and dread. I trail the sound of voices deeper into the woods, until I see them facing each other in the wash of moonlight in a small clearing beyond the trees.
Chapter 24
Ipress my back to the tree bark and peer around just enough to see them.
Victoria’s lips move rapidly, but I can’t make out her words. I bite on my fingernail, wishing I could read lips. Her fingers curl like talons around Logan’s forearm. His body remains angled toward her, not retreating an inch.
Never in my life have I wanted so badly to be a fly on the wall, or . . . on a tree. Just look at me. I’m turning into a busybody, like my mother.
My focus returns to them. The moonlight paints them in silver, two beautiful people having a private moment in a forest clearing that feels like a movie scene I’ve stumbled onto. A movie where I’m not the lead—just the expendable side character about to be axed.
What are they saying? I strain to hear, but the rustling of the trees in the night breeze muffles their words. Victoria leans closer, her mouth nearly brushing his ear, her body archedtoward him like a cat stretching into a caress. And Logan—the man who kissed me so passionately, who raced practically naked to my car for a blanket, who looked at me on a Ferris wheel like I was the only one that mattered—just stands there, his eyes flying wide.
Was I right all along? It feels like a tight band of pressure constricts my chest. The possibility that’s been haunting me since her arrival crystalizes into a hard, cold truth. Something lingers between them, something beyond business. Something between ex-lovers.
Her fingers slide down his arm in a gesture so intimate I have to look away. Seeing them like this hurts worse than I care to admit—even more so than walking in on Andy and Lindsey, which I thought nothing could ever top.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
I blink back hot tears that blur the shadows of the trees around me. No way am I crying over another man who wasn’t worth the emotional investment. No more dating amnesia where I forget the lessons carved into my heart. No more falling for someone whose version of loyalty comes with corporate sponsors and fine print.
