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It should make her heart ache, his tears. But it didn’t. It only made the force of her anger stronger. He didn’t get to be the one that hurt. He brought this on himself.
After it was clear she wasn’t responding, he continued, “I let shame get in the way. I didn’t know how to close the distance between us. I shouldered the guilt of everything for years, and I let that push us further apart.”
He went silent when the waitress appeared with their appetizers and placed it in front of them, along with three plates. “Um, should I come back to take your orders?” she asked, oblivious.
Marti rolled her eyes. Perceptive.
When Logan told her they needed a moment, Marti felt relief. At least he knew when to keep his mouth closed and when to open it.
The waitress scurried off with a fading smile, and Marti shrank back in her seat, suddenly exhausted. Years of anger and pain lodged in her throat as she looked over at her father, feeling defeated and tired from the bitterness she’d carried with her every single day like an anchor around her waist, pulling her down.
“Put me down for a plus-one at your wedding with Logan as my date. I’m making an appearance because I feel obligated to, but nothing more. Not as a bridesmaid or anything else.” She pushed her chair back and stood. “Enjoy your shrimp.”
Then she turned to Logan. “Walk me home?”
THE COOL AIR NIPPED at her heels as her clipped stride ate the sidewalk.
She bumped into a kid with spiky blue hair who cursed. Stumbling, she muttered an apology, blinking through the fog of emotion.
“Marti, wait. I’m sorry I—”
“What were you thinking?” She whirled around to face Logan.
“I . . . I guess, I just—”
“I told you about my past, confided in you about him leaving, about how I didn’t want to be in the wedding. You knew our relationship was strained. But he shows up with his charming smile and sad eyes, and you immediately agree to dinner? Then you sit there with him, reminiscing like you’re long-lost friends! How dare you.” She bit her lip and her limbs quaked like an addict, adrenaline coursing through her veins. Any minute, she’d spontaneously combust and either her tears or the embers of her anger would rain down on all of them.
The shallow sound of his breath pierced the quiet between them, and she wanted to hit him, to reach out and hurt him, because even though they weren’t really together, she thought he knew her better than that. She thought he understood at least a little of how she felt.
He reached out, but she sidestepped him. “I’m sorry, but I just wanted to know a little more about the woman I’ve been spending time with. I thought he might give me some insight into who you are and . . .” He trailed off, averting his gaze.
Marti took a step forward, hands fisted at her side. She placed them against his chest and shoved while the blood pounded in her ears. “Go ahead. Say it.”
Logan’s eyes locked on hers, his mouth a tight line.
When he said nothing, she said it for him. “You hoped it might, what? Give you some insight into why I’m so closed off? Why I don’t trust men?” She sucked in the cold, night air, her voice rising with each word. “Or perhaps you thought he’d tell you why I have so much emotional baggage. Why I’d rather do just about anything than fall in love. Well, hello, genius.” She flung her arms out and turned in a circle, feeling half crazed. "Maybe it is because my youth never exactly gave me the warm fuzzies in regard to men and relationships.”
Logan reached out and grabbed her arm, but she yanked it away. Several people stared but most pushed past, used to seeing much worse. “Marti, please.”
She shook her head, tears clogging her throat while she stared at the ground, watching her feet blur. She was unraveling, she could feel it, yet she couldn’t stop it, so the next time when he reached out and grabbed her arm, she let him.
“Maybe I was desperate,” he said.
She glanced up at the sharp sound of his voice, her cheeks damp, beckoning him to continue, to say something to ease the pain tugging at this place inside her chest.
“Maybe I was desperate to find a way to get you to open up. And, yeah, this was the wrong way. I can see that now. I was selfish and foolish for insisting he should come along. But when he showed up, asking you to give him a chance, to go to dinner, I couldn’t resist the opportunity to learn more about you. I couldn’t turn down a chance at a glimpse of what made you who you are.”
He let go of her arm and she felt the loss like a hole in her heart, knowing it was wrong because she should feel nothing.
He paced in front of her, running his hands through his thick hair. “You want the truth, McBride?”
“Don’t,” she warned.
The sound of her voice made him pause, and he stared her down before he dipped his head closer and whispered, “The truth is, right or wrong, you’ve buried hooks in my heart. And here I am, still trying to punch holes in the walls around yours.”
Marti swallowed. Her pulse thrummed. “Logan, what are we doing?” Her shoulders slumped. Desperation clung to her skin like smoke as she glanced around them as if someone passing by might have the answers. “In a few weeks, this will be over. Hidden Heartbeat will have e
nough clout to go national. You already said so yourself. My father’s wedding will be over, and we’ll go back to being just two people in a city full of millions. Why do this? No good will come of it.”
