Chapter 30
“There’s something I’ve been working on that I’d like to share with you all tonight,” Logan says, his silky voice carrying through the room effortlessly.
A collective gasp seems to sweep through the banquet hall. The chandelier light catches in his dark hair as he adjusts the microphone stand, then lowers his hand to the guitar, his fingers brushing the wood.
“You’ll be the first in the world to hear this song,” he continues, and the crowd rustles with anticipation.
Applause breaks over him in waves, and phones rise everywhere, screens pointed his way. I lean into Mom’s shoulder to steady myself, afraid my knees might give out.
“A special person helped me with this one,” Logan adds, his eyes skittering across the sea of faces until they lock onto mine. When he winks, heat flushes from the core of my body to my toes, and up to my ears, and my grip on Mom’s arm tightens.
“The song is called ‘Pretend,’ and I hope you enjoy it.”
His fingers coax the first notes from the guitar, and recognition strikes me like lightning. This melody—the same one that floated through my window that first day, before it turned into musical chaos, before I knew who he was.
Then he begins to sing.
“We danced around the lies we spun,
A game we played, a race we’d run.
But in the hazy middle of pretend,
I found a love I’d choose again…over and over…”
I don’t care how cliche it sounds to say that his voice sweeps me off my feet because that’s exactly how I feel. They’re my words that he sings—fragments I scribbled in margins, thoughts I never meant for anyone to see, let alone breathe life into with so much emotion.
“You changed the song inside my soul,
Made broken parts somehow feel whole.
And though we said it’s just pretend,
My heart knew better in the end.”
The chorus swells, and tears spring hot and unbidden to my eyes, blurring his image on stage.
When the final note fades, silence hangs suspended for one breathless moment before the room erupts. People leap to their feet, clapping wildly, phones raised high to capture the moment. Logan bows to the crowd, then waves like I imagine he’s done countless times.
He hands the guitar to the DJ and steps from the stage, high fiving everyone around him. He accepts handshakes and shoulder claps while navigating his way to me, his smile never once leaving his perfect face.
I wipe frantically at my cheeks, trying desperately to make myself look presentable again.
It’s hard to describe the emotional rollercoaster I find myself riding.
Every journalist in the country could write a pernicious article about me and none of it would chip away at the overwhelming joy arising in my chest.
I still can’t believe this is real, not until Logan stops before, and I catch the scent of his cologne, the same one I couldn’t get enough of on our flight to Alabama.
“What are you doing here?” I manage, my voice embarrassingly wobbly. Up close, he’s even more dashing in that navy tux tailored to perfection.
His hand rises to my face, thumb gently sweeping away a tear. “I came for you.”
The simple truth in those words steals what little breath remains in my lungs. I inhale shakily, suddenly conscious of the circle forming around us. “What about your career?”
“I quit the record label.” He says it the way someone mentions the weather, like it isn’t a big deal at all. “But if the reaction to my latest single is any indication, I’ll be fine on my own.”
I shake my head in wonder. “I still can’t believe you sang my lyrics.”
“Told you it had potential.” His smile deepens as he steps closer until there is but a fraction of space between us. “Now that I’m independent, I’m going to need a songwriter I can trust. Know anyone who might fit?
Fresh tears blur my vision, but I manage a smile anyway. “I might know someone.”
“Good.” He lifts both hands to my face, thumbs warm against my cheeks, and for a moment the noise of the room feels far away.
“Because I wouldn’t settle for anyone else.
” His gaze drops to my lips, then returns to my eyes.
“All the money, all the fame in the world means nothing if you’re not in my life.
I’d give everything up for a chance to be with you.
” His eyes hold mine, sincere and vulnerable in a way I’ve never seen from him. “I love you, Maisie.”
When his lips touch mine, the room falls away. The steady pressure of his mouth, the slight tilt of his head, the way his hands slide into my hair would buckle my knees and send me to the floor if my arms didn’t circle his neck, pulling him closer, every nerve ending aflame as I melt against him.
He pulls back only a fraction, just enough to press his forehead to mine, his breath warm against my lips. “From this moment on,” he whispers, “I don’t want to go a single day without you. Not ever.”
“I love you too,” I whisper back, and the words feel truer than anything else I’ve said.
Reality slams back in as the crowd erupts, cheers mixing with wolf whistles. A teenage girl in braces and a pink dress edges forward from the front row, napkin and pen clenched in her hands, her eyes wide with the hopeful certainty that she’s about to get an autograph.
Logan chuckles and glances at me, his eyebrow raised as if asking for permission.
I give him a gentle shove. “Go.”
As he signs autographs and poses for selfies, well-wishers surround me from all sides. Mom squeezes my hand, her eyes shining. Even Lindsey approaches with genuine congratulations. But their words slide past without sinking in, because my attention is locked on the man across the room.
As the DJ blasts the next song through the speakers, Logan finds me again.
He takes my hand and draws me close, his arms settling around my waist with quiet certainty. I lean into him and rest my head against his chest, listening to the simple, reliable beat of his heart.
There’s no pretending left now. No careful lies. No space to hide in.
And in the calm truth of that moment, with the music drifting around us and his warmth holding me in place, it feels strangely perfect to know that he is mine, and I am his.