Chapter 27
ELIZABETH
Jake was in. The trial was official. The paperwork was done. His spot was secured.
The words blurred in front of me, my hands shaking as I reread the message over and over, barely able to believe it.
A breath of relief rushed out of me, a laugh bubbling up before I could stop it. I pressed a hand over my mouth, overwhelmed by the weight of it all. After everything—after months of uncertainty, of stress, of holding my breath—he was in.
I needed to tell Logan.
Because he was the only person in the world that I had told exactly how much this meant—the waiting, the worrying, the desperate hope that had felt impossible until this moment.
I turned, scanning the crowd, already moving.
And then I saw him, making a beeline for me. I made eye contact and ducked into an empty room. He followed me.
Before I could think, before I could second-guess, we collided.
My hands fisted in his shirt, his arms wrapped around me, and I pulled him into an empty room, crushing my mouth against his.
Logan let out a low sound, deep in his throat, and then he was kissing me back—fast, desperate, like he needed this just as badly as I did.
His hands slid into my hair, anchoring me, keeping me right where I was.
As if I were the only thing keeping him steady. It was like I was the only thing that made sense. I could have stayed like that forever.
But forever wasn’t an option. Not for us. Not yet.
I broke away just enough to press my forehead to his, my breath coming fast and uneven. “Jake’s in.”
Logan blinked, his hands still cradling my face. “What?”
“He’s in the trial. It’s official. The paperwork went through. He’s locked in.”
I felt the shift in his body, the tension unspooling from his shoulders, the tight coil of worry finally giving way. And then his arms tightened around me, crushing me to his chest, his lips brushing my temple like he couldn’t stop himself.
“Perfect,” he murmured. Then he pulled back, just enough to look at me. And his eyes—man, his eyes. Bright. Blazing. Determined. “Let’s get out of here.”
I froze. “What?”
“We don’t have to go through with this.” His voice was urgent now, the words tumbling out fast, fast, fast. “We don’t have to have the wedding. Jake’s spot is secure. It’s done. We can walk away.”
For a second, I almost said yes. Because this was it. The moment I had secretly, desperately wanted.
But as soon as the thought formed, so did the panic. Leaving wasn’t simple. It wasn’t just stepping out of this room and into some fairy tale where love fixed everything.
Logan had a label that expected an album. A brand tied to a squeaky-clean wedding.
And me?
I had built my life around the idea of control. Around being the person who could manage the chaos, who could put out fires before they burned everything down.
If I walked away from this wedding, I would be walking away from the reputation I had spent my entire life building.
Vanessa couldn’t touch Jake anymore, but she could still ruin me.
She could take my job, my future, and rip the ground out from under everything I had built.
One word from her, and every contact, every journalist, every client I’d earned would disappear.
She could make it so that no one returned my calls. So that no one trusted me again.
And that was the real fear.
I needed control. I craved it. After everything I’d lost—my parents, my sense of safety, the version of my life that felt predictable—control was how I kept going.
It was my armor. My system. I followed the rules, I was diligent, and I did everything right; in return, I built something solid.
I built myself into a success. And Vanessa?
She was the only one who could pull that foundation out from under me with a single, well-placed email.
If I didn’t have control… what did I have? Who was I, if I wasn’t the woman who always held it together?
Logan didn’t understand that. He never played by the rules. That wasn’t how he survived. He’d always pushed against the system, while I learned how to master it. And when Jake was at risk, Logan played along for me because I had too much to lose.
But now? Jake was safe. The job was stable. The plan had worked.
And Logan was done pretending.
I could see it in his eyes, feel it in the growing space between our bodies. He didn’t want to live inside the script anymore. He wanted something real. Us. Out in the open.
But real meant uncertain. Real meant letting go.
And I wasn’t ready.
I was doing this for him, too. Because, like it or not, Logan’s career was hanging by a thread, and he was too talented to let it all go up in flames. I couldn’t watch him throw everything away. Not when I knew how to save it. Not when I could still protect us both.
I wrapped my arms around myself like that could hold me together, like it could stop the shaking in my hands that I didn’t want him to see. My throat felt tight, my chest burning with the pressure of everything I couldn’t say.
I forced myself to meet his eyes. “No,” I said, barely recognizing my voice. “We can’t.”
Logan’s brows furrowed, confusion flickering across his face before something darker settled there. “Elizabeth—”
“You have to go through with this,” I said, sharper than I meant to. Because if I didn’t say it quickly, I might not be able to say it at all. “For your career. For mine.
His hands curled into fists at his sides, like he was barely holding himself back. “You think I care about photo ops and magazine covers? You think this fake life matters more to me than what we have?”
He stepped closer, his voice rising. “You keep acting like I need this, like you’re saving me.
But I’ve been doing this for you. I’ve played the game.
I’ve followed the rules. I’ve stood there and smiled while you pulled the strings—because I knew what you were risking, and I wanted to protect that. I wanted to protect you.”
He shook his head, breath ragged. “But Jake’s safe now. And you’re still choosing this… this lie over me.”
I wanted to reach for him. To take it back. To say something that would make all of this make sense. But the words got stuck behind the pressure in my chest, behind the fear that if I let one crack show, everything would come crumbling down.
He looked at me like he didn’t recognize me anymore. Like he couldn’t believe I was the one asking him to do this.
And maybe I couldn’t believe it either.
His hands curled into fists at his sides, like he was physically keeping himself from saying something worse. “How am I supposed to get through this?” His voice was quiet, like he was talking more to himself than to me.
My heart twisted. Because I knew Logan. I knew him. I saw it in his eyes. He was going to do it.
He was going to walk down that aisle. Smile for the cameras. Say the vows. Play the part.
Because I asked him to.
“Just look at me,” I whispered. “I’ll be standing right there.”
As if that would make any of this easier. As if watching him marry someone else wouldn’t tear me apart.
Logan let out a low, humorless laugh. “Great.” He shook his head, his jaw tight. “That’s comforting.” Then, without another word, he turned and walked toward the door.
And I let him go.
And even though this secret still bound us, this tangled mess we’d created, it felt like he had just walked out of my life forever.
Because this was it.
The moment he was about to marry someone else.
And I was the one telling him to do it.