Can't Let Go - By Michelle Brewer Page 0,33

composure. After a few more moments, her eyes landed on a pale yellow dress—very similar to the one she’d worn so many years ago. This one had thin spaghetti straps and a more flowing skirt, similar in length. “This—this one will work fine.”

“Don’t you want to try it on?” Abby shook her head, knowing that the shop would be closing soon.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” As per usual, she avoided Logan’s eyes as she turned around, holding the dress over her arm. “I’ll just pay for it and then we can go—we’ve still got to stop at the restaurant and drop off the flowers.”

“We’ve got time—”

“No—really, it’s okay.” She brushed passed him, her eyes trained on the floor. “It’ll do just fine.” She wasn’t sure why she was in such a hurry—why it was that she was suddenly so eager to move the night along. Perhaps, she mused, it had something to do with the intensity of Logan’s eyes as they followed her around.

Or perhaps, thought the part of her that dwelled deep within her being, it had something to do with the way she actually enjoyed it.

~*~

She stood in the living area of her small motel room, struggling to reach the zipper on the back of her dress. Logan was supposed to be arriving any minute now and she sighed with frustration. She’d gotten very little sleep once again and had, this time, passed the night mostly staring at the ceiling and scolding herself for thinking about things she knew she shouldn’t be thinking about.

But she couldn’t help it. No matter how hard she tried—her thoughts continuously brought her back to Logan.

She tried to remind herself how angry she was with him. She tried to remember the pain she’d felt upon waking to that stupid note. How devastated she had been as she packed up her belongings and returned home—leaving Hayley her own note, unable to face even her best friend. She tried to think about the year she had spent refusing to believe that she and Logan were actually over. The nights she’d cried herself to sleep.

But every time she tried, she, for whatever reason, thought of his eyes. Every time he looked at her, she felt as if she was the only other person in the world. And she didn’t even mind.

A knock sounded at the door and she sighed again. “Just a minute!” She struggled with the zipper a few moments longer.

“Everything okay in there?” And finally, Abby gave up. She crossed over to the door and opened it partway, biting her lip.

“I need a little—assistance.” She stepped backward, waving him in with one hand while holding the back of the dress with the other. Logan entered, closing the door behind him. “I can’t get the zipper.” His eyes danced with laughter as they met hers. “I’ve been trying and it just—”

“Let me do it.” She sighed one last time, turning around and lifting her hair. As she stood in front of the mirror, though she tried not to, she watched their reflection in the shiny surface. He was hesitant at first, his hand coming close to her waist and pausing for a moment before finally allowing it to settle there. She tried to ignore the way her heart responded to his touch—the way the air in her lungs suddenly seemed to disappear.

He moved slowly—carefully. She felt the soft skin of his fingers gently graze across her back and she closed her eyes, reveling in the touch.

“There,” he said, though his tone was much lower than it normally was. Her eyes fluttered open and her breath caught in her throat as their eyes met in the mirror.

It was only a moment, but it seemed to last a lifetime. She envisioned her alternate reality, in which this would be something that took place on a normal basis. Instead of preparing for a funeral, perhaps it was a wedding they were attending—something light, happy—celebratory.

And she could see that Logan too was living in his own world, his gray eyes content. Maybe even optimistic.

“We should probably—” His voice brought her crashing back to reality and she nodded, stepping aside and taking a deep breath.

“We should.” Because, of course—this wasn’t her fantasy life. This was reality.

Abby swallowed as she averted her eyes. Logan stared at the floor now, his eyes guarded. With one last glance in the mirror, she said goodbye to the fantasy, pushing it away.

The funeral was to be held outdoors, as neither Hayley nor Blake had been