Chapter 28
LOGAN
I always thought that when I got married, it would be for love.
That was the one thing I was sure of. I could screw up everything else in my life—burn bridges, make reckless decisions, throw myself into chaos. But love? That was supposed to be real. Love was supposed to be the thing that grounded me.
And I had finally found it. Against all odds.
With Elizabeth. Sharp-witted, stubborn, brilliant Elizabeth, who could command a boardroom full of executives and still look flawless doing it.
The woman who called me on my crap, who never let me take the easy way out, who challenged me in ways no one else ever had.
And instead of standing next to her, making impossible promises and meaning every single one of them, I was standing in front of a crowd of people, about to marry a woman I wasn’t in love with.
When we had talked before the wedding, I finally saw it. All of it. Elizabeth’s fear. Her obsession with control. She could never be the one who makes a wrong choice.
I wasn’t the safe choice. I wasn’t a choice at all.
No one had ever fought for me. Not really. Not my father, who couldn’t look me in the eye unless I was achieving something.
And not Elizabeth. She was fighting to control the situation. To solve the problem.
And I was the problem.
So when the music started and I walked to the altar, I wasn’t hoping anymore. I wasn’t praying she’d come to her senses or change her mind. I already knew she wouldn't.
Sophie looked stunning. Her dress was something straight out of a fairytale, all lace and intricate beading, her blonde hair swept back in soft waves. She was the perfect bride. Any man would be lucky to have her.
But the only woman I wanted was standing, not next to me, but in the front row in a perfectly tailored dress.
To the rest of the world, she looked polished and unreadable.
But I knew her too well not to see the tension in her shoulders, the tight set of her jaw.
She was hanging on by a thread, holding herself together like always.
And I imagined, just for a second, that it was her walking toward me. That this was our wedding. That she’d let go—finally, finally—and chosen love over control, chosen me over fear.
I begged her in my mind. Please don’t do this. Just throw up your arms and stop the wedding. Throw your arms around me and show everyone. Show me.
But she didn’t move. Not an inch.
She stayed exactly where she was, perfectly still, perfectly composed. Watching.
Why not get married now? What did it matter? At least I’d still have my music. And Elizabeth wasn’t going to stop the wedding. She had nothing to lose by choosing me except for a boss she hated and a life she didn’t even seem to want.
But she gave me up instead.
And that was it—the final blow.
“Logan,” the officiant prompted, waiting for my vow. I took a breath, heart hammering, ready to say the words.
I opened my mouth.
“I can’t.”
The words weren’t mine.
They came from Sophie.
The entire room gasped as she took a step back, pressing a shaking hand to her forehead. She turned to me, her eyes wide, her voice trembling. “I can’t do this.”
The air in the room thickened, stuck in my throat, suffocating me.
“I can’t,” she repeated, more to herself now, like she had just come to terms with it. Then she lifted her chin, squared her shoulders, and dropped the bomb that blew the entire wedding apart. “Because I think I might still be married.”
Then, before anyone could even process what she had said—
BAM.
The double doors burst open so hard they slammed against the walls.
“Sophie Ann, no!”
The voice was loud, desperate, thick with emotion, and it belonged to a man.
A very sweaty, wild-eyed, flannel-shirt-wearing man, sprinting down the aisle like this was a movie. It was a guy willing to fight for what he wanted.
“I won’t let you get away!” the man shouted, breathless, eyes locked on Sophie. “I love you!”
The room gasped as one.
Then, chaos erupted.
Sophie let out a startled half-sob, half-laugh, one hand flying to her mouth. For a second, I thought she might collapse. Then she ran straight to him like this was the ending to the rom-com she’d always wanted.
The press in the back exploded into a frenzy, flashes bursting like fireworks. Guests gasped, whispered, and some even cheered. Mick muttered something about needing a drink.
And Sophie? She leapt into the man’s arms full tilt, dress flying, veil twisting like a flag behind her. It should’ve looked ridiculous. However, it didn’t. It looked… right.
I stood there, frozen. Trying to make sense of the fact that this was real. That I wasn’t dreaming.
The man held Sophie like he didn’t care that hundreds of people were watching, like she was the only thing in the room. He buried his face in her neck, his whole body shaking.
“Sophie Ann,” he breathed, voice cracking. “Babe, I knew you didn’t mean it. I knew you couldn’t marry him.”
Sophie cupped his face, beaming through her tears. “Lambert, I thought I’d lost you.”
Mick groaned beside me. “I’m getting a migraine.”
Sophie turned back to the room, radiant and completely unbothered by the scandal she had just detonated. She laced her fingers through Lambert’s and lifted her chin.
“I’m so sorry, everyone,” she said, eyes shining. “But I love this man, and I can’t pretend anymore.”
Then she pulled him into the kind of kiss that belonged on a soap opera.
Another wave of gasps. I think someone fainted.
And me? I turned my head to find Elizabeth. She was standing just a few feet away, looking as stunned as I felt.
And for a split second, my heart caught. Please, I thought. Please, just let this be the moment. Just let her see it. Let her do what Sophie did. Let her choose me.
Then I saw the flicker of emotion in her eyes. Just enough to hope.
She moved.
But not toward me. Not to stop the chaos or whisper my name or do anything remotely cinematic.
She moved like a machine. Precise. Automatic. Like she’d flipped a switch.
Her mask slid back into place. The emotion was gone. She stepped forward, grabbed one of Sophie’s assistants, and started giving clipped, sharp instructions. PR mode activated.
Elizabeth wasn’t coming to me. She was fixing things.
And that was the confirmation I didn’t want, but that I needed.
She had just watched a woman walk away from everything—reputation, security, certainty—for the person she loved.
And Elizabeth? She was focused on damage control. Of course. The wedding was imploding, the headlines were already writing themselves, and Elizabeth wasn’t running to me.
I watched her go, with her head high, shoulders back, like she hadn’t just torn something open in me and walked away with the pieces. She was strong. Unshakable. A force of nature. And screw it, that’s what I loved about her.
But she didn’t love me enough to turn that force in my direction.
She wouldn’t put her full weight behind us.
Behind what we had. And I wasn’t doing that again.
I already know how that story ended. I loved my dad more than he ever loved me.
Spent years trying to earn something that should’ve been mine to begin with.
I wasn’t chasing love that runs away.
Elizabeth let me get to the edge and never once fought for me. She hated mess. Hated unpredictability. Hated losing control.
And me? I’m all of that. All of the time.
So, no matter what she said, or how tightly she once held my hand or how softly she whispered my name, I was never the man she would choose.
She just couldn’t love me enough to risk it.