Can't Let Go - By Michelle Brewer Page 0,64

day. The photographer was already at the church, ready to capture the bride going through the pre-wedding process. The stylists were there working on the bridesmaids, and everything would be wrapped up in time for Abby’s arrival.

She hardly noticed.

The morning flew by, Abby in a fog the entire time. She knew that her time was running out—but she had no idea what to do. She was at a loss.

A knock sounded at the door and Jenny hurried over to answer it, giving Abby a moment to appraise her own appearance.

She looked beautiful—though not much like herself, she had to admit. Her hair was carefully wrapped in some fancy up-do, her makeup professionally done. She almost felt like a porcelain doll—perfect on the outside, but empty within.

“Um…Abby?” Jenny spoke, pulling Abby from her thoughts. “There’s someone here to see you—”

“Who?” The only person who would want to see her before the wedding would be her father.

“It’s—” Jenny looked around at the other women in the room before she leaned in closer. “Logan, Abby. It’s Logan.”

The room swayed. Abby had to grab hold of Jenny in order to keep from falling.

“Tell him to go away, Jenny. Please.”

“I already tried that. He said he just wants to talk to you—he only needs two minutes.” Abby felt her throat closing up, the tears already threatening to appear.

“I can’t—”

“I can tell him again.” Abby nodded, watching Jenny hurry back to the door. What was he doing here? How had he known where to find her?

“I’m not leaving, Abby—not until I talk to you. I’ll say what I have to say from out here, if you make me.” He was raising his voice then, making certain that she heard him. She looked around the room, suddenly very aware of all eyes on her.

“Let him in.” She finally gave in, knowing he was telling the truth. He would only stand out there and continue to make a scene.

He wasn’t dressed for the wedding. He wore jeans and a t-shirt, his hair more disheveled than ever. His gray eyes swept over her, taking it all in. “Ladies?” Abby questioned. “Could you give us a minute?”

“Not a problem, Abby. Take as long as you need.” It was Jenny, ushering the rest of the women out. Abby was aware that the photographer had taken a few shots of the encounter and in the back of her mind, she noted that she would definitely have to ask for a discount.

“You look…”

“Beautiful, I know.” She’d heard it a million times.

“No, I was going to say like a princess.” He shook his head. “That’s not how you envisioned your wedding.”

“There’s a lot I didn’t envision about this day—but it’s all happening.” Why was she so angry with him? There was a flood of resentment in the pit of her chest spilling out and spreading through her. “What are you doing here, Logan?”

“I’m trying to keep you from making a mistake.” Mistake. There was that word again. “You know you don’t want this, Abby.”

“And you think this is the most opportune moment to be telling me this?” She was actually livid. What right did he have to be here? What did he think he was doing? “It’s been months, Logan—months.”

“Hey—you left me this time, Abby.” His tone was tense—strained.

“You knew where to find me.”

“I didn’t think you wanted to be found.”

“So why didn’t that stop you today?” She didn’t need this—not today. Not with everything else that was going on today.

“Because—I knew if I didn’t come today, you’d go through with it.”

“So you think that, because you’re here, I’m going to just up and call off the wedding? Cause a scene, break some hearts, ruin some futures?” That’s exactly what he was asking her to do.

“No—and I’m not asking you to do anything like that, Abigail.” He shook his head, stepping closer to her. “All I want you to do is—for just once in your life—think about yourself. Put yourself first.”

The room swayed again—a church bell sounded in the distance. Time was almost up.

“You have to leave, Logan. You can’t be here.”

“Abby, please.” He was begging her now. She could hear the pain in his voice. He loved her so much.

But she couldn’t do this—not for him.

She longed to do what he asked. She was dying to tell him about the life they had created—to throw her arms around his neck and let him carry her away.

But she couldn’t.

“I have to make my own decisions—and I want you to leave.” It hurt her to