"Aha! The famous Logan," Sloane drawled, her gaze missing nothing as she extended her hand. “So you must know all the island secrets," she challenged her question seemingly casual yet Jess caught the double meaning.
"A few," he admitted, his eyes finding Jess's with quiet remembrance. "Though some should probably remain secrets."
She felt heat rise to her cheeks and took a sip of punch to cover the reaction.
Dropping off the others’ drinks, Logan nodded again at her and then stepped away, heading back to his own group, andleaving Jess faintly disappointed that he wasn’t staying, before catching herself.
Megan leaned forward. "So that's him?”
"Who?" she questioned, feigning confusion.
"Your first love," her friend clarified gently, her eyes kind but observant. "I can see why. He's got that quiet strength thing going on."
"Ancient history," Jess insisted, echoing the phrase she'd also used when Nadine first mentioned Logan was running The Harbor House.
"Hmm," Sloane raised her eyebrows pointedly, her expression speaking volumes.
The band launched into a new song, this one with a driving beat that had couples filling the small dance floor.
In the hope of distracting her friends - and herself - from Logan’s presence in the room, Jess found her foot tapping in rhythm, her body remembering the countless nights they’d spent dancing here - always with a freedom she rarely allowed herself now. Julian preferred more formal dancing, like waltzing or the foxtrot, steps that were predictable and looked impressive.
Across the room, Logan glanced up from his conversation with Finn, his eyes finding hers again with unerring precision, as if he could read her mind. He raised his glass in a silent toast, his expression unreadable at this distance. Jess lifted her own in response, the simple gesture feeling weighty with unspoken history.
"I need a smoke," Sloane announced suddenly, touching Megan's elbow with gentle pressure. Her gaze flickered meaningfully toward the side door where a few patrons had escaped the press of bodies and volume of the band. “Come with me?"
Megan nodded, subtle relief crossing her features. The noise level had been steadily increasing as the night progressed, and unlike Jess and Nadine - who quickly became enmeshed in further conversation with another group of locals - she hadn't spent her formative years learning to shout over live music.
31
The venue’soutdoor side deck was sparsely populated - a couple murmuring in one corner, a small group of smokers huddled near an ancient picnic table, and a lone man speaking intently into his phone.
Music still pulsed through the wooden walls, but muted now, allowing actual conversation without throat strain.
Sloane leaned against the weathered railing, her posture deceptively casual as she lit up. "So," she began, her tone conversational yet precise, “Is this groom ever gonna show up or what?”
Megan's fingers traveled to the simple pendant at her neck, a habit Sloane had noticed emerged whenever conversation turned to thornier topics. “Of course Julian will be here," she laughed, her voice warm with what appeared to be genuine affection. “He’s wonderful and he adores Jess.”
"You introduced them?" Sloane prompted.
“Three years ago at a dinner party at my place,” Megan confirmed, her gaze drifting toward the harbor where distant boat lights winked like earthbound stars. "I knew Julian from some work I did with his firm - counseling sessions for theirjunior associates dealing with burnout." Her smile emerged, soft and reminiscent. "When Jess walked in that night, I just knew."
"Knew what, exactly?" Sloane asked confused.
"That she was exactly what he needed," Megan said. She laughed lightly, though the sound held a different quality than her usual warm chuckle. "The moment he saw her across that room, it was like watching someone discover a rare piece of artwork or something. He couldn't look away. And I knew that was it.”
As she spoke, a flush that couldn't be attributed solely to the evening's drinks colored her cheeks, and her eyes brightened with an inner light that reminded Sloane precisely of how Jess had looked just now in the company of her ex, Logan.
"Nobody else stood a chance," Megan continued, which Sloane thought was kind of an odd phrase, considering.
Before she could probe further, the side door swung open, spilling light and music into their quiet conversation. Nadine's silhouette appeared, her wobbly stance suggesting she'd had one too many. “There you are. Come back inside, you’re missing all the fun.”
As they followed Nadine back in, Megan leaned toward Sloane. “Is she drunk?” she asked discreetly.
“Think so. I kinda lost count of how many we had over dinner,” Sloane murmured back. "But maybe we should consider intercepting the next one."
Nadine sank into her chair with uncharacteristic abandon, her normally perfect posture surrendering to a comfortable slouch. A strand of hair had escaped her immaculate twist, curling against her flushed cheek. The top button of her shirt had come undone, and a small stain from the spilled punch darkened her sleeve.
Minor imperfections that would have been immediately addressed by the usual Nadine but this version seemed blissfully unaware.
