Chapter Thirty
I WOKE UP, DISORIENTED AND heavy, as though fighting my way out of a drug-induced coma. Shadows swam as I blinked, trying to focus, and my throat burned so fiercely, it was hard to swallow. My fingers twitched instinctively, clutching at something in my hand.
The crinkling sound brought me back to reality. The envelope. A jarring reminder of where I was and why I was there.
Immediately, my gaze fell to the empty chair where Logan had been sitting after he’d sweetly tucked me in and kissed me good night, careful not to let it go too far. I loved his gentlemanly caution, but I knew it was more than chivalry. His heart belonged to someone else. That truth was starting to hurt.
I was angry with myself that I couldn’t just stick to the plan: a summer of carefree fun—nothing more. That was all it was supposed to be. But there was nothing fun about discovering my father had rejected me—not once, but twice. Honestly, my entire life.
And the first person I’d thought to run to was Logan. That thought scared me. There was no denying I was falling in love with him—a man whose heart I could never truly claim. That was definitely not on any bucket list.
Letting the envelope fall to the side, I sat up, flipped on a lamp, and grabbed Logan and Erica’s wedding photo off the nightstand. For a moment, I just stared at the image, letting it suck me right in.
Erica was breathtaking. Her fiery red hair cascaded in flawless waves and framed her delicate porcelain features. She looked like a younger Nicole Kidman, with her svelte figure, poised elegance, and a confidence that radiated through the photograph. She wasn’t just beautiful—she was magnetic. It was easy to see why Logan had fallen so hard for her.
And I knew she didn’t have some soap opera past like me. Her life sounded more like a classic romance movie, the kind that everyone wanted to star in. You know, the one where the successful, gorgeous, admired woman makes all her dreams come true, including snagging a ridiculously handsome doctor who adores her. Sure, her death cut it short, and she didn’t get a proper happy ending, but she appeared to have had it all while she lived.
Meanwhile, my movie was turning out more like a CW drama, complete with a tangled web of secrets, heartbreak, and strange plot twists. I almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all, but the ache in my chest reminded me it was my real life, and there was nothing funny about it.
I tortured myself some more by gazing at Logan in his tux, beaming at his bride. His smile said he was the luckiest guy in the world. The photo was pure bliss, but it stung. He’d never looked at me like that—and I knew he never would.
I clutched the photo to me, holding it against my aching chest, wondering where Logan was. He was probably sleeping on the couch, dreaming of Erica and thanking his lucky stars he’d only agreed to a fling with me after the night’s revelations. Assuming it was the same night. I didn’t even know what time it was. But I knew I needed something to drink.
Would I disturb Logan if I crept into the kitchen? I’d interrupted his life enough in the last few hours.
Before I could make a move, the door creaked open. A friendly head peeked in, and Eden’s soft voice broke the silence.
“Oh, you’re awake,” she said, startled. “Sorry, I was just checking on you.” Her gaze drifted down, landing on the photo frame I was clutching.
My breath hitched, and I dropped it as though it had burned me. “Um ...” Words stuck in my throat like cotton. My mind scrambled for something—anything—that might rationally explain why I’d been clinging to a photo of Logan and Erica’s wedding. Something other than the fact that I was falling in love with Logan. That was anything but rational.
Eden stepped in and tiptoed toward me. She eased onto the bed, her weight making it bounce gently beneath us. Her brows knit together, concern etched in her features.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—” I began, my voice failing me, but she reached out and took my hand, giving it a firm, reassuring squeeze.
“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” she said, her tone gentle and steady. It matched her personality perfectly. I’d come to love her and Sophie this summer too. “It’s natural to be curious about the other woman in his life.”
I let out a shaky laugh. “I was thinking more like it was creepy for me to be hugging their wedding photo.”
Eden’s giggle helped lighten the moment, but I still felt the need to explain myself, to make her understand. “It’s just ... we’re different, Erica and me. I’m feeling that more than ever right now.”
She tilted her head slightly, contemplating. “Different isn’t a bad thing,” she said finally. “In fact, it can be a very good thing.”
“Sometimes,” I agreed. “But I don’t think this is one of those situations.”
“Oh, really?” Her eyes lit up, sparkling with amusement. “Then why is my brother over at the Harringtons’ right now telling off Maxwell?” She spewed his name.
I blinked repeatedly, flabbergasted. “He is? What? Why?” I had so many questions.
And one overriding thought—Logan was bound and determined to make sure I fell irrevocably in love with him. Seriously, what a guy.
Eden leaned in closer. “Why do you think? He cares about you. Probably more than he’s willing to admit right now, but it’s plain to see.”
Although I wanted to believe her more than anything, the doubts in my mind persisted. “I’m pretty sure we’re not seeing the same thing,” I said. “I know he cares about me, but ... Erica owns his heart. As she should,” I added, even though I wished I could get joint custody .
What was I even thinking? There would be no living up to Erica, and I didn’t want to try. Especially now when I knew that not even my dear old dad thought I was good enough to be his daughter. I tried not to let Maxwell get to me. After all, I’d lived my entire life without him. His opinion should have had zero bearing on my life. However ... it was a slap in the face to have double confirmation that he didn’t want me or my mother.
He hadn’t even had the decency to believe her, but he’d paid her off all the same. The saddest part was that after reading their “love” letters, I believed my mom wanted me to come to Aspen Lake because deep down she still had hope for him. I truly believed that she had wanted to give me a family now that she was gone, as family was everything to her.
But she’d wanted Maxwell to redeem himself. As she had put it in one of the letters, I’ll make sure you get the chance to be the man I thought you were—whether or not you take it is up to you. My heart broke more for my mom, as he had proven once again that he wasn’t the man she’d fallen in love with. My guess was that he never had been.
“The thing about hearts is that, given the opportunity, they have a great capacity to grow. I think they even like the chance to love again,” Eden said, like I’d written to Dear Abby, and this was her advice to me.
“Are you speaking from experience?” I asked.
Her lips curved into a playful smile. “Yes, but we aren’t talking about me tonight.”
“Fine,” I replied, faking disappointment, though a part of me genuinely wanted to know more. “In that case, I think Logan’s heart might be too broken to love again. There’s something beautiful in that too, right?” I sounded braver than I felt.
“In a poem, sure,” she teased, her smile widening. “But that’s not real life, and Logan has a lot of years ahead of him. I know he wants a family.”
“He does? I’ve always been afraid to ask him.” Probably because, lately, the thought of offering myself up as a tribute for that cause had crossed my mind more than once. And I’d wondered if he and Erica hadn’t been able to have them. I didn’t want to remind him of that pain.
“It’s a sensitive subject,” Eden sounded like she was giving me a warning. I got the message loud and clear—don’t ask Logan about it. It lent more to my theory about them not being able to conceive. Poor Logan.
Another head peeked in the door. I expected it to be Logan’s, but this time it was his mom, Marianne. I hoped he was okay. How long had he even been gone?
“Sorry to interrupt, but I figured this called for some hot cocoa.” Marianne came waltzing in elegantly, wearing red silk pajamas and carrying a large mug of steaming goodness. She really was the cutest lady, with her curly brown hair in a headband, prancing like she was Doris Day.
I didn’t think I had any tears left, but they came on strong, spilling over and flooding my cheeks.
“Oh, dear,” Marianne exclaimed. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No,” I stammered, shaking my head. “It’s just that anytime I was sad—no matter how warm it was outside—my mom used to bring me cocoa.” I wished she were with me now, except I knew how heartbroken she would have been to learn that Maxwell would remain a disappointment.
“It’s a mom thing.” Marianne carefully handed me the mug, and with it came a kiss on my head. She waited for me to take a sip before scooting Eden over and joining us on the bed.
The warm liquid felt good on my raw throat. It felt even better to my soul. “Thank you,” I said, more in control of my emotions.
Marianne picked up the wedding photo I’d left on the bed. Oh, jeez. Why didn’t I put that back? It made me look nuts. And maybe I was. But after recent revelations, I didn’t want more attention drawn to the fact that I was starring in a CW drama. Especially because getting caught with that photo made me look more like the psycho side character than the heroine with a tragic backstory. Although I’d never considered my story a tragedy. But I would be lying if I said it didn’t hurt that my father didn’t want me.
I wanted to disappear under the covers while Logan’s mom glanced between the photo and me. She must have noticed how uncomfortable it was making me; she did the kindest thing she could and set it back on the nightstand. Bless her .
Marianne patted my leg and said with an air of motherly wisdom, “You know, after my Steven died, I used to beat myself up over the way I’d complained about the dirty clothes he’d leave next to the hamper, or how he had this propensity to steal all the hot water in the mornings taking a bath while he read the paper.” She smiled, fondly.
“I started making myself believe I thought it was cute and part of his charm, and that I actually loved lukewarm showers. And his clothes by the hamper were symbolic of how busy he was and how hard he worked for our family, and that’s why he couldn’t take the extra half second to toss his clothes where they belonged.” She paused and took a breath. “But you know what?”
“What?” I was eager to see where she was going.
“I hated cold showers, and I wanted to wring his neck every time I tossed his clothes into the hamper. But after he died ...” Her voice pitched a tad higher, but she didn’t let the emotion get away from her. “I made some aspects of our life into a damn fairy tale.” She laughed. “I thought that was the best way to memorialize him. In reality, I was just doing him and myself a disservice. Steven wouldn’t want to be remembered as perfect, and painting him that way just made me more miserable, as if missing him weren’t enough. Don’t get me wrong: He was a good man—one of the best—but he was a man, not a god.”
I took another sip of cocoa, carefully measuring what I was about to say. “Soooo,” I exaggerated. “Are you saying that Erica wasn’t a perfect goddess? Or am I just reading too much into your story and have now way overstepped my bounds?”
Eden and Marianne both laughed.
“You’re a smart cookie.” Marianne patted my cheek.
I wanted to ask why Erica wasn’t perfect, but that seemed too self-serving, and honestly, I never wanted it to seem like I was trying to replace her or tarnish her memory. If Logan loved her, she had to have been a lovely person. I couldn’t see him loving anyone who wasn’t. But even if she wasn’t a fairy tale ...
“I don’t know if Logan will ever see her as anything but perfect.”
Judging by the way both women sighed and nodded, they seemed to agree.
I snuggled back into the pillows and sipped the cocoa, trying not to let the news devastate me. After all, this was just supposed to be a fling. I’d known that going into it. In fact, I had set the terms and conditions. It wasn’t Logan’s fault that I wanted to change them now.
I mean, he was kind of to blame. Why did he have to be so wonderful? The thought reminded me. “How long has Logan been gone?” I still couldn’t believe he’d gone to tell off Maxwell. He was kind of a knight in shining armor. If you replaced the armor with tanned, muscled perfection.
“It’s been over an hour now,” Eden responded.
I bit my lip. “Do you think he’s okay?” Surely, Maxwell wouldn’t have done anything to him, right? Other than maybe throw him out and tell him to mind his own business. But if that were the case, Logan would have been home by now.
“That’s a tricky question,” Marianne replied.
“What?” I sat up, panicked. “Should we call the authorities?”
“Oh, honey.” She waved her hand in the air. “I didn’t mean to imply Logan was in physical danger. I’m sure he’s not,” she said, not so surely.
“Mom, he’s fine,” Eden interjected.
“I just worry. I’m his mom, after all, and the Harringtons are well connected and respected in this town. People like them don’t like to be told they’re in the wrong. And they don’t like scandals. Not that you’re a scandal, dear,” Marianne clarified.
I cringed, feeling more and more like a soap opera come to life. “Ugh, I bet that’s how people will see me. I’m like Liv Tyler when she found out Steven Tyler was really her father. Except my mom wasn’t a Playboy Playmate, and she never convinced another man to sign my birth certificate.”
Eden giggled, and I laughed too. It was better than crying.
“Well, my mom wanted me to discover something new about myself this summer. Boy, did I ever. Cross another item off the bucket list,” I said sardonically.
“It’s all going to work out,” Marianne promised.
I was sure it would. It always did, but not every story had a satisfying ending. Not even Erica’s. What hope did my CW drama have?