hand over my chest. It’s hot in here. And about to get hotter. Time to finally hear what my heart had to say about my one and only wedding.
Holy cattle.
I reread the last sentence of my Vegas entry for the third time, and then I stand up. I leave my diary open on the table, grab my purse, and walk out of the house in a daze.
I drive aimlessly around town and try to forget about Logan for at least five minutes.
Maybe I should call him.
No. I shouldn’t.
I wouldn’t want him calling me after saying something like what he said.
I know I want to call him, though. I stop at the creek but stay in my car and look out at the water. I guess I’m hoping for some kind of sign, some inspiration that will lead me to the right answer.
The skies get dark within five minutes, and when the water does come down from the sky, it’s hard, nearly hail. A few hailstones do hit the windshield, and I curse myself for not getting that special sealant Lou offered me the last time there was a hailstorm here.
But the hail doesn’t last long, just long enough to get my attention. The thunder and lightning come for the next minute or two, hard and bright, and the rains continue to pelt on my car.
And that’s when I see red. Red mud. I haven’t seen that in over three years, not outside of a painting.
That’s my sign.
Yes, I have to let Logan go, but I can’t let him go without letting him in.
I drive home and run inside my duplex and over to my laptop.
I know it’s a long shot. Checking his email account is probably the last thing on his mind right now, but I’m going to try anyway. I attach a copy of the full manuscript of Ghost Love and add a little note.
“Hey,” I write. “You always told me I could do this. I hope all your dreams come true also.”
As soon as I press send, I immediately panic and try to hit cancel so that everything I just gave Logan would be safely back in my house where he can’t read the words that came straight from my heart.
But the email goes through successfully.
And once I’ve unclenched my white-knuckled fists from the table, I relax.
Macey, you had to give it one last shot before he becomes someone else’s husband. You had to let him know maybe he shouldn’t give up on you just yet.
Mostly, I want Logan to know that I haven’t given up on him, either. If two four-hundred-year-old ghosts can find their way back to one another, then there must still be hope for us mortals.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I walk into the Cowherd Whiskey shaking water out of my hair. I’m soaked just from those few seconds outside.
“Really coming down, isn’t it?” George says.
“Really is.” I go around to the back of the bar and use some paper towels to dry my head. “You all punched out?”
“Yep. I’ve fed the kitty, and he’s all safe and sound in his bed. I’m gonna go home and enjoy a cold beer, watch some sports on TV, and go to bed early.”
“Good for you,” I say.
“You’re leaving for Florida soon, right?” George asks me as he puts on his hat.
“Yeah.”
“Good luck with that one,” he says to me. “And remember, she may have the ring, but it doesn’t mean she’s got his heart.”
I smile and wish I could believe him.
Because of the rains, The Cowherd’s nearly empty. As the hours go by, it never picks up. It’s starting to feel more and more like a never-ending shift when Skips pops by for an unplanned—and clearly uninvited—visit.
“Didn’t you squeeze enough information out of me and this old bar already?” I ask him.
He takes off his glasses and dries them off on his shirt before he takes a seat on a stool. “I’ve been thinking.”
“Well, whatever your request is, the answer is no.”
Skip holds up his hand for me to let him finish. “You and Logan are a real-life love story. What you did for him—silently and privately sacrificing your own heart so he wouldn’t suffer—that’s what legends are made of.”
“Skip, please.”
“I’m serious. You didn’t even want him to know. You did it all for him, not yourself. That’s true love.”
Yes. I do love him.
Fuck. I love Logan. I love him so much it hurts.
But—
“Sometimes love isn’t enough,” I say, my voice cracking.
Skip’s gaze searches my face. “And sometimes it is.