Chapter 26
We pile into Logan’s truck with Gin and me in the back.
Logan’s stressed about getting home in time.
He says his dad’s going to kill him if he’s late.
Dave is hungover and not caring about much of anything except where he can get another cup of coffee.
I’m wondering how the shower didn’t help my splitting headache any, whether a candy bar counts as a fortifying breakfast, and what possessed me to move the Jane Austen ruby ring that Logan won me when we were seventeen from my right hand to my left. And Ginny, well…
“How was your night?” she asks me with a cheeky smile.
“Fuzzy,” I say quickly.
But my face warms as I remember Logan’s hot hands on my burning skin, the way he undressed me, slowly and deliberately, like he was seducing me for the very first time. He was so gentle last night. So caring.
“Uh-huh.” We’re still in the hotel parking lot, and Ginny keeps looking at me as the guys start talking about which route to take home. “What about with Logan? How was that?”
“It was—” I stop short. “Good. You know, it’s not like we’ve never slept together before.”
“But never as husband and wife!” she squeals loudly.
Logan looks up sharply, and my eyes meet his in the rearview mirror.
“What?!” I stare at him. “We got married?”
He holds up his left hand, and I blink at the vintage silver bull ring on his ring finger. How the hell did I not notice that when we were in bed?
“Isn’t that the gumball machine ring Logan keeps in his truck? The one you bought him after you—” Ginny says to me.
“Yes.” I interrupt her as fast as I can and then look at Logan again. “But our marriage isn’t legal, right? We didn’t apply for a marriage license.”
Ginny lets out a squeak, and I turn back to her. Her cheeks are flushed.
“You look guilty.” I grip her shoulder. “Why do you look guilty?”
She rubs her nose. “Um, so when I applied for the marriage license for Dave and me online, I thought it would be funny if I put in an application for you and Logan also.”
“What?!” My hand on her shoulder tightens so hard she winces. “Sorry.” I remove my hand as I stare at her. “What are you talking about, Gin?”
“Dave thought it was hilarious,” she says defensively.
Up front, Dave chuckles. “It was. I had no idea you and Logan would actually use it, though.”
“Because you didn’t think Mace and I were going to be that drunk,” Logan says to him.
“It was a joke because of how you and Logan had fake married last year,” Ginny explains.
“We didn’t plan to do anything with it except show you when we went to pick up our own license.
But then…” She looks toward Logan in the front of the truck and then back at me.
“Y’all were so excited when Dave and I showed you your license.
Logan suggested you get married also. And… ”
The silence that hits the truck sends butterflies through my stomach.
“And…what?” I finally say in a quiet tone.
“And you said yes,” Logan says softly from the driver’s seat.
I raise my head to look in the rearview mirror. He’s looking back at me. Our eyes catch and hold for a long time. Too long.
And then, the memory hits me like a freight train.
Logan and I were in our own little drunk-ass world, staring at our marriage license together while Ginny and Dave argued over whether or not to buy her a white dress before heading to the chapel.
“Want to get married again?” Logan’s voice was low so only I could hear him.
I jerked my head up to see if he was being serious.
Logan’s expression was mischievous, and I remember us laughing together.
But what I cannot deny—what I absolutely cannot forget—is how certain I felt when I leaned closer to him and whispered, “Let’s do it.”
Holy. Shit.
What did I just go ahead and do?
Logan
I see the moment Macey remembers. Her whiskey eyes widen, and she sucks in her breath. Her expression matches the panic I felt when I woke up this morning and realized, with a sober mind, what we did last night.
I sit frozen with my hands on the steering wheel, ignoring Dave’s yammering about the route.
Macey’s gaze doesn’t leave mine right away. She stares back at me through the rearview mirror.
“Shit.” She covers her mouth with her hand, the left one.
I stare at the ring on her fourth finger and then return my gaze to hers.
“We can undo this,” I mouth to her. “I promise.”
She nods, and the panic recedes from her face and is replaced by a careful, blank expression. Macey’s practical face.
My shoulders relax. One thing’s for sure—Macey and I are still in sync. Even if no one else can understand, we get each other.