for, too.” Mama points to the ticket in Macey’s hand. “Logan and Gigi will have their renewal wedding in Florida on the seventh, but they’ll have the official wedding here on the second. Right at The Cowherd.”
Silence hits the room.
Eventually, Luke breaks the awkwardness by asking if my dad will be joining us in Florida.
Mama heaves a big sigh. “Who knows? He says he can’t take the time off. But I’m still working on him.”
She leaves then with the flowers.
Once the four of us are alone again, Ginny makes a big show of gesturing to Macey’s purse.
“Mace, don’t you want to read to Logan in private?”
“Read me what?” I ask.
“Her diary.” Ginny pats Macey’s arm. “She needs your help, Logan.”
Macey shoots Ginny a death look. “I didn’t exactly say that, Gin.”
“Luke, let’s give them some privacy.” Ginny’s already grabbing him by the arm. He doesn’t move as she tugs at him. “Plus, I need to talk to you about something.”
Instead, he glances at me. I know what he’s thinking. Macey and Ginny want to split us up so they can conduct some sort of interrogation.
I’m not worried about Luke cracking. Heck, he’ll barely tell me anything.
“What do you want to talk about?” he asks Ginny.
“Gin needs some advice about her upcoming wedding,” Macey says.
“I’ve never been married,” he points out.
“Exactly.” Macey rubs her nose like she always does when she’s full of shit. “Ginny needs to talk to a man who’s single. And possibly celibate.”
“What the hell…” Luke growls, and I hide a laugh. “I’m not fucking celibate…it sounds like Ginny needs to talk to a priest.”
“Nope.” Macey grabs Luke’s other arm, and together she and Ginny drag him an inch or two. “Ginny needs a big brother type to unload her problems onto. Go, Luke. Be that man for her. Please.”
I wave him off. “Go, Wild. If you don’t, these two will just find another way to lasso you.”
Macey
I don’t know how much time Ginny needs to try to pull something out of Luke.
Luke is a typical cowboy—he’s comfortable with long silences and won’t feel pressured into anything. The idea of Ginny successfully learning any secrets from him is almost laughable.
But anything is worth a try.
And in order to help her out, I need to keep Logan busy.
So I take a seat at the edge of Logan’s bed and pull my diary out of my purse.
“Would you like a bedtime story?” I say teasingly.
He nods at the diary. “Go for it.”
“Okay.” I quickly skip past the entry when we were seventeen. That one is definitely way too sexually-charged to read out loud.
“I’ll try this one,” I say as I flip to the next page. I glance at Logan for second. His clear eyes focus intensely on me as I begin.
Daddy went to rehab again, but this time, he stuck it out for four whole weeks. And when he came out, he claimed he was a changed man, a God-fearing man. He carries a little Bible around with him now and has several passages bookmarked for whenever he feels tempted by the drink. I pretty much figure that’s all the time since he runs a saloon, but he and Mama have been talking about getting someone in to run it for him. I know they’re thinking of me when I graduate high school, and I’m willing to entertain the idea. For now. If something better pops up before I graduate, well then, I’ll have to figure out what to do.
“Something better has popped up,” Logan says. “Your writing.”
So Mama and Daddy are back together, and they kept their word and officially re-married. I was Mama’s maiden of honor, and Riley was a bridesmaid. I held Ben, and Riley held Freedom. Mama and Daddy kissed at the altar—honestly, it was a little embarrassing how long they made out for. I finally kicked Mama in the heel from behind, and she claims she still has the bruise. But you know how she exaggerates.
The ceremony didn’t fix much, though. Mama still throws things, and Daddy still ducks.
And in March, our whole town got excited because the mayor was convinced we’d found the soul mates to free Jane Austen’s ghost. The bride, Agnes Simpson, was said to be the last living descendant to the town founder, and she and her fiancé seemed so adorable and perfect together. She even wore a period piece for her wedding dress, from the Victorian era of course, and it looked so pretty on her. They wrote their own