I grab my coat and my bag from the booth. Natalie returns with drinks and asks where I'm going. I tell her I'm calling it a night. Avery waves from Liam's table, and I wave back and smile, my face feels like a mask.
The bar is crowded, and I weave through bodies. I pass within ten feet of Logan on my way out. He’s too engrossed with the blonde woman to notice me. Pain reverberates through me. This is not what I signed up for.
The air hits my face, and I breathe in deep. My hands are shaking inside my coat pockets.
That woman touched him, and Logan did not take her hand off. I flag a cab on the street and give the driver the hotel name. In the back seat, I lean my head against the window and close my eyes. The city lights stream past in blurs of color.
My phone buzzes.
Logan: Where did you go? I turned around and you were gone.
I stare at the message. My thumbs hover over the keyboard.
Tired. Went back to the hotel. Good game tonight.
His reply comes fast:You okay?
Me: Fine. Just tired. Enjoy the night with the guys.
I put my phone in my pocket and keep my eyes on the city outside the window. The cab pulls up to the Shangri-La. I pay the driver, walk through the lobby, and take the elevator up to the twenty-eighth floor.
The room is empty and dark. I drop my coat on the chair and sit on the edge of the bed in the dark with the CN Tower glowing blue through the window.
I've never been a jealous person. I've never cared enough about a man to feel threatened by another woman. But watching someone touch Logan made me want to set the bar on fire.
This is what it means to love someone this much. It's not just the good parts — the mornings in Maine, the dinners in the West Village, the way he holds me in bed like I'm the only solid thing in his world. It's also this.
The gut-wrenching, teeth-clenching reality that the man I love is a public figure and women will approach him, touch and flirt with him, and I have to sit across the room and take it.
I pull off my shoes and lie back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
My phone buzzes again.
Logan: Jas. Talk to me. What's wrong?
I pick up the phone and type:Nothing's wrong. I promise. Just need sleep. I'll see you tomorrow.
I put the phone face down on the nightstand and pull the covers over me. I close my eyes and try to sleep and every time I'm close, I see the blonde woman's hand flat against Logan's chest, her fingers pressed over his heart, and my own heart burns.
21
Logan
Jasmine is gone.
I turn around from the bar and scan the booth where she was sitting. Harper is there with Cole, and Natalie is walking back from the bar with Ethan. Avery is at Liam's table. Jasmine's seat is empty, and her coat is missing.
I check my phone. No text. I type one out.
Where did you go? I turned around and you were gone.
Blake is beside me, nursing his beer. “Everything okay?”
“Jasmine left,” I say. Why would she leave without telling me?
“I know. I saw her walk out about five minutes ago.”
“Why didn't you say something?” I say, in an irritated tone.
