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Chapter 18
Elena
I'm pacing my restaurant, aware of Emma and Harper staring at me like I've grown two heads. My hand is inside my mouth; biting my nails is a nasty habit of mine, and I can't stop now.
"So..." Harper clears her throat. Her eyes are more expansive than saucers, and disbelief is written on her forehead. "Let me get this straight... You had the BEST sex in your entire life with a man you love, and his future wife walked in, and then you left him?"
"Yes!" Frustration carries my voice to the seat where Harper is sitting and drinking her late-night coffee. Her eyes are glancing up into my face as I stand there, heaving. "What was I supposed to do?"
Emma laughs. "Nothing. You did everything right, but maybe you should answer your damn phone?" She glances down at my phone next to her hands, smirking when she notices it vibrating again. "Elena... Logan is calling you again. Can I pick it up?"
My heart races, and I feel myself go down in flames. Em
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I hate flying more than anything in the world, so when Harper offered me hash brownies, I filled my entire mouth. Now I'm wobbly on my legs and determining everything as hilarious, which is way better than biting my nails at the mere prospect of flying. We are at a restaurant past the gates, about to eat and fill our bellies before boarding our plane. Harper told me it's more pleasant not flying on an empty stomach. I hope she is right. "I'm going to go for their burger," Harper mumbles from behind her menu, tapping her colorful nails against the brochure. "Or maybe I should for a salad? We will drink a lot of calories during this trip, and I should think about my form. My wife would hate me if I returned both tanned and entirely out of shape after we have agreed on training again." Smiling, I rock back and forth in my seat, giggling when I burp. I'm not feeling too well—eating hash brownies for the first time at an airport wasn't the brightest idea.
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As I stare at Logan, I hear this whisper coming from my heart, telling me to take a chance. We have all read those billionaire romances where the guy needs to get married to inherit something, but experiencing it is a freaking trip. My knees go weak, and I'm unsteady, but there is no denying what the heart wants—Logan, and I rather it be me walking down the aisle with him than someone else. "Yes." I breathe heavily, smiling at the world taking momentum; this is where my life changes forever. "I will marry you." "Really?" The glint in Logan's eyes goes from surprise to happiness as he watches me and realizes I'm serious. "I thought I would have to bribe you somehow, but this is a pleasant surprise—I'm thrilled!" My body stiffens as I watch him approach me with that charming, curling smile. Was Logan always so gorgeous? I have the sudden urge to hug him but think better of it. I'm afraid of what I would do if I felt his hard body against mine. M
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Logan I've done many stupid things in my life; who hasn't done something they regret? I've jumped from scarily high cliffs while my friends waited on my yacht and eaten scorpions. Bungee jumped even though I'm afraid of heights. Everything was a rash, stupid decision. But me asking Elena to marry me? That felt right. I'm happy, and even though Elena is doing everything in her power to focus on the conversation she is having with Harper, I know she can sense my presence. Shivers are prickling over her flawless skin as I'm sitting ridiculously close to her in a McDonald's booth. It's been ages since I sat in one of these. Most women I've dated would have laughed at me coming here, saying it's too low class, but not Elena. I like that about her. For a long time, it's been like I've forgotten who I am, but with her, I relax and be myself. I thought she was easy prey in the beginning, and boy, was I proven wrong. My mother probably won't approve of
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Elena After Logan rejected me in the past, I never imagined myself being close to him again. Today, I'm testing necklaces worth a fortune with his warm fingers intertwined in my hair. His fresh scent floats from his creamy skin, making it hard to focus as he stands behind me. I'm experiencing goosebumps, and I have the strangest desire to pinch my cheeks to make sure I'm not dreaming. I'm getting married to Logan. When did this even happen? How did it come to this? "You're beautiful. Stunning." Logan's body is large and reliable, much bigger than mine as he guards my back. "A braid will suit you, and don't worry—I've had enough sisters to deal with to know how to make one. I'm an expert." I love his gentleness, swooning as he works those rough fingers. I'm one lucky woman to receive so much attention and tenderness from a man who looks like an actor. Logan is such a gentle spirit when he wants to be. I hope it lasts. "You don't
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ElenaLogan gazes at me with furrowed eyebrows. His soft eyes are locked on mine, and guilt eats me up alive. I should tell him who he is about to marry, but I'm so afraid.I've tricked him into this—he might have asked me to marry him, but he doesn't know my true identity. The right thing is to tell him before the wedding, so he knows.He can decide what he wants to do after I've told him the truth. Logan will probably marry me either way since he wishes to keep his company and money, but the two of us will fall apart.The emotions in his eyes will fade to grey.His voice will grow cold.And he won't love me anymore.Tears burn in the corner of my eyes, and when one falls, Logan takes it away with his finger. He is so gentle with me that I quip for air and fall against his chest, wishing I didn't have to tell him."Hey, hey—" he whispers soothingly and hugs me to him, running his large hand down my back. "What is t
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Elena After I've shouted out my sentence, eerie silence and tension fill the atmosphere. Logan isn't speaking, and my chest painfully constricts—the fantasy I had about us getting our happily ever after crashes and shatters to pieces. But I can't run forever. Slowly, I open my eyes, daring to look up at Logan's face. I'm afraid of the emotions I might find there: disgust, loathing, maybe even hatred. Instead, I find Logan blinking at me. Seconds pass, and when his eyes narrow slightly, I get up from my seat. Panic is swirling inside of me, and the instinct to flee kicks in. I don't want to hear his thoughts, but he grabs my wrist as I try to pass his passenger seat, and his intense, blue eyes glare into mine. He looks angry, which is a given. I understand him for being mad at me, but I don't think I can handle it. His voice comes out as an order. "Sit." My heart squeezes at the coldness in his voice, and I sit back down on the
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