by Tia Souders
She grew up believing love was a broken, brittle thing. That those who love you will inevitably leave. How different would things be had she learned forgiveness, perseverance, and trust? That love trumps all, if you just put in the work.
“You may now kiss your bride,” the preacher pronounced.
Her father grinned, his brown eyes sparkling under the soft light as he tipped his bride back, sealing their vows with a kiss.
Marti reached up to her cheek as she watched, shocked to find her hand damp with tears.
By the time she got to the reception, a weight the size of an elephant sat on her chest. Logan’s absence was everywhere—in the empty seat beside her, his place card, in the guest book where she signed her name. A selfish part of her still hoped he’d come. It was a stupid thing to wish when she had made it perfectly clear she chose her career over him.
She ripped her gaze away from the dance floor, trying to forget how they danced at the gala. The feel of his hand burning through the skin on her lower back. The shift of his hips. The sound of his voice as it vibrated through her chest. Things were simpler then, the rules clearly defined. None of them broken.
“Hey, peanut.”
She turned to the sound of her father’s voice, grateful for the distraction from her thoughts. When he reached half-heartily for a hug, she embraced him, and he froze—probably expecting her to push him away like she always did.
“Congratulations, Dad,” Marti managed, her throat tight.
“I thought maybe you weren’t coming.”
“So did I.” Then she grinned. “Sorry I was late.”
“Better late than never.” He winked and the corners of his eyes crinkled. “Where’s Logan?” His gaze darted to the empty seat beside hers.
Her smile evaporated. “He couldn’t make it.”
“That’s too bad.”
With a deep breath, she asked, “Dad, why didn’t you tell me? About Mom? How she threatened you and made you stay away?”
His brows shot up, clearly not expecting this. After a moment, he said, “I hurt her.”
“It’s not that simple, is it?” She finally understood. “You wanted to try and she didn’t, which is okay. She had that right, but then she used me against you. To punish you and keep you away.” Her mother hadn’t used those words, but Marti knew it was the truth.
His eyes glistened. “I figured I deserved it. What I did, it trumped anything she did to me, and it ruined everything. I couldn’t forgive myself, much less expect anyone else to. So I waited until you were out of the house. I gave her space.”
“But by that time, I wanted nothing to do with you. Oh, Dad,” Marti murmured, then buried her face in her hands. She wished she could press rewind. If she could, maybe her heart wouldn’t have hardened against him.
She squeezed her eyes closed, forcing the lump in her throat down with a hollow ache. “I’m sorry. For everything.”
“Don’t be sorry.” He took her hand. “You can go round and round asking yourself what if, and it won’t do any of us any good. Let’s move forward with no regrets. That is all I could ever ask for.”
Marti nodded even as her stomach squeezed with regret. You can’t fail if you don’t try.
She blinked as comprehension dawned. She needed to move forward. No regrets. And if she did as Blue asked and shut Logan out, she’d regret it. At the very least, she needed to try. She owed it to herself, to him.
He might hurt you.
You might fail.
Or maybe not.
Maybe they’d be happy.
“Dad.” Her voice shook. “There’s something I have to do.”
He flashed her a knowing smile and nodded toward the door. “Go.”
She lunged at him, offering him one last hug. “I’ll make it up to you next week. Dinner. I promise.”
“I’ll hold you to it,” he said, and with that, she turned and ran from the ballroom.
Forgetting her coat, she rushed outside. The wintry air nipped at her bare arms as she darted to the sidewalk, arm raised, yelling for a cab.
One flew past, followed by another.
She stepped out into the street, nearly getting run over. Sticking her arm out, she screamed until the next one stopped. Sliding into the backseat, she didn’t waste any time rattling off his address.
With trembling hands, she dug her phone from her purse and pulled up Blue’s contact information, then dialed. As she waited for her to answer, she squeezed her eyes closed, unsure of what she’d say once she got on her on the line. She only knew she needed to tell her she was done—she wouldn’t be her puppet.
“Hello?” Blue answered.
“It’s Marti.”
“Marti,” Blue purred, almost as if she expected her call. “I assume you’ve seen the website?”
“What? No. Why would I . . .?” Marti’s forehead knotted in confusion. “Never mind. I need to talk to you about Logan.” Her chest puffed as she drew in a breath, filling her lungs. “I won’t do it. I won’t break up with him. I care about him too much to let him go.”
There was a beat of silence, then Blue’s hard tone. “I’m sorry to hear that because things may be a little complicated . . .”
Marti’s stomach dropped. “What do you mean, complicated?”
“Let’s just say I did a little digging and found some very interesting things I felt the public should know about your dear doctor.”
Marti’s heart rate spiked. Her mouth turned to dust. “What kind of things?”
“Maybe you should read it before you make any decisions. Sometimes people aren’t who they say they are.”
She hit end, cutting her off, and pulled up her web browser. Come on. Come on. Come on.
She waited as PopNewz loaded on her screen, then scrolled to the trending stories, and her heart stopped. At the very top was the headline Blue wanted her to see.
Logarti’s own Dr. Love Killed His Own Baby. Get the Inside Story on His Charity Hoax.
No. No. No.
This couldn’t be happening . . .
She stabbed the headline with a shaky finger, pulling up the article in its entirety, and with a soft whimper, began to read.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
LOGAN
REGARDLESS OF THE FACT that Marti had pushed him away, Logan dressed for the wedding. He hated the thought of her attending it alone, especially when he knew how hard it would be for her.
Besides, a deal was a deal. And whether he liked it or not, she had fulfilled her end of the bargain.
Thanks to her and their fake relationship, Hidden Heartbeat would go national. They’d save lives. It was only a matter of signing the last contract and waiting for the checks to clear. Okay, so maybe his showing up at the wedding was about more than that. Maybe it was because he couldn’t help but hope she might change her mind about him. He checked her column the last three days for a story and found nothing from her. It’s like she went radio silent. That had to mean something, didn’t it?
Marti was used to the important men in her life giving up and walking out. So he wouldn’t. Not now. Not ever. As long as he thought there was a sliver of hope she felt an inkling of what he did, he’d be there, waiting.
He checked his appearance in the mirror one last time, smoothed the front of his navy-blue suit, and exhaled. It was do or die. Time to prove what he was made of. Time to show Marti how good they could be together and that love was worth the risk. He wouldn’t leave just because she pushed him away.
He hurried from the bathroom and grabbed his keys off the hook by the door when his phone bleeped. Snatching it up, he checked the screen—a text from his sister. Four ominous words stared back at him.
Brittney: You’d better see this.
He scowled down at the link she sent. Something told him he didn’t want to see it, but he clicked on it anyway. PopNewz’s familiar logo loaded first.
He swallowed. This was it; Marti had finally concocted a breakup story.
His muscl
es coiled as it loaded, preparing himself for the worst.
Then he read the headline, and his knees buckled.
THE KNOCK ON THE DOOR came rapid-fire.
Logan shook his glass, rattling the ice, then tipped it back and slugged the last dregs of whiskey. Maybe if he finished the bottle, it would be enough to drown his self-loathing. This was his fault—his idea. She warned him—way back when they started their fake relationship—Marti told him not to fall in love with her. But he did anyway.
What a fool.
The pounding on his door increased, but he was in no condition to see anyone. He shuffled into the kitchen and stopped in front of the half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels, setting his empty glass down. Having already gone to his head, the whiskey swirled in his gut. He placed his hands on the counter, head bowed. He abandoned his suit coat long ago, and his tie hung uselessly around his neck, his shirt only half-tucked. If only she could see me now.
“Logan, answer the door. It’s me!” her voice called out.
His gaze shifted toward the source of the sound, to his closed door, then away again.
Great. He was even hearing her now, conjuring her voice out of thin air.
He scrubbed a hand over his face. How much had he drunk?
His heart thumped heavily in his chest at the thought of her. Clearly, not enough.
To think he was dumb enough to believe what started as a ruse had turned into something real. With the Queen of Single, of all people. He knew she wanted no part of a relationship, and yet, he still allowed himself to fall. Then again, he never would have predicted she’d betray him like this. Though there was no credit given to the article, it was under Marti’s column. Enough said.
Well, hello, pain. Stupidity came with a price.
Another knock rattled the door, followed by the same voice—her voice. “Logan. Please, it’s Marti. I assume you saw the article, which is why you’re not letting me in, but let me explain.”
Logan’s head snapped in the direction of the door and he frowned. That didn’t sound like his imagination.
Whiskey glass forgotten, he made his way to the front door and opened it to reveal his dream come true and his worst nightmare all rolled into one.
The impact of her presence was like a sledgehammer to the chest. Every part of him ached at the sight of her.
She stood in his doorway, forehead crinkled with worry, blue eyes earnest. Her auburn locks lay in a trail of waves over her shoulders left bare from a little black dress—the one she must have worn to her father’s wedding.
Of course, she wore black to her father’s wedding. For her, it was like going to a funeral.
His fingers twitched with the urge to slam the door in her face. The only thing he wanted was to drown his feelings in the whiskey bottle sitting on his kitchen and forget her face. Those eyes. That mouth. But the urge to hear what she had to say outweighed his need for escape.
Call him a glutton for punishment.
He turned away from the door—stumbled more like it—allowing her inside as he headed back into the kitchen where he swiped the whiskey bottle off the counter and took a pull straight from the bottle. Lowering it, he took in her face creased with concern, licked his lips and waited.
“Logan . . .” Marti held her hands out like he might bite. Like she was talking to a caged animal.
It ticked him off.
“Come to rub salt in the wound? Or maybe you need more personal anecdotes to add to your story.”
“I didn’t write that.”
“Sure you didn’t. But even if that’s true, then someone did your dirty work for you.”
“I didn’t tell them any of that, I swear. I would never do that to you.” She looked sincere, but her words said otherwise.
“I wish I could believe you.” A lump lodged in his throat. He glanced away, forcing it down.
“I don’t know how Blue found out about it, but she had to be behind this. She warned me as much. Told me that she would have to take matters into her own hands if I didn’t concede. She said she’d give me a few days, but she must have come across this information and decided it couldn’t wait.”
“You know what I don’t get?” he said, ignoring everything she just said because it was all a load of bull.
“What?” She paused, and he felt her eyes on him.
“Why lie? If you were going to tell them about my past, fine. It may hurt, but losing a patient isn’t exactly groundbreaking news for a doctor. But to tell them a boldfaced lie, that the baby was mine, and I was solely responsible . . . it’s so much worse. Sharing facts is one thing, but the lie, that’s what kills me most.”
“It wasn’t me.” Marti stepped forward, hands outstretched, pleading. “I warned you. I told you this might happen. Remember? When I said if there was anything in your past to hide that the media might dig up? Well, they did, and Blue took the truth and twisted it for clickbait.”
Enough. He slammed the bottle down on the counter next to him, heart shattering with the sound. “So this is my fault?”
“No. It’s not your fault, but it’s a side effect of being in the spotlight.”
“Funny. I don’t see them degrading your character.”
“If you think I wanted this, that I’m happy they—”
He took a step toward her, closing the gap. His breathing shallow, his pulse a jackhammer in his veins. “You made it perfectly clear what you wanted. And you were right. We’re over. Congratulations. You didn’t even have to lift a finger. They did your dirty work for you.”
He started to turn away, done with this conversation when she reached out and fisted his shirt in her hands. Yanking him forward, she crushed her mouth to his.
He’d like to say he had enough self-control to push her away. He’d like to think he was a stronger man, but he wasn’t—he didn’t.
His hands slid to the back of her head, holding her in place as he devoured her. His lips moved with hers in a punishing dance. Their breathing grew ragged as he angled her head, kissing her harder until they both gasped for air. Until he had nothing left to give.
This kiss was all pain. It was every “what if” he’d experienced in the last week—everything that could have been. All that he ever wanted.
He pulled away roughly, causing her to stumble back. Only he didn’t reach out to steady her. That was someone else’s job now.
She caught the back of her legs on the couch and her hands flailed, reaching to the sofa for balance. Then she blinked up at him, her face flushed with the heat of their kiss—a kiss that Logan was sure could ignite the world—and he couldn’t take it.
He turned away, unable to face her any longer. She was so beautiful it made him ache, and she looked at him like he could save her—save them—but the damage was already done. Worse yet, she had been the one holding the knife, inflicting the wounds.
He leaned against the wall, completely spent. Squeezing his eyes closed, he pressed his forehead into the drywall.
“I care about you so much,” she whispered.
He opened his eyes, frozen as her words sank in and his vision cleared. Any second he’d move and the spell would be broken; her words would dissolve into thin air.
“I think I might even love you,” she added when he said nothing.
Logan laughed. Talk about a punch in the nose. All his hopes crashed with that one ominous word—think.
“Wow. You think you might love me? Fantastic. Let me throw a parade. Shout it from the rooftops. Listen up, New York, Marti McBride might be in love me.”
“I’m sorry. This isn’t easy for me,” she said, fisting her hands by her side.
“Oh, and it is for me?”
Marti moved into his line of vision. “There’s something you don’t know . . .”
“Great. Another bomb. Let’s hear it.” He waved his hand, and this time when their eyes met, tears coated her long, dark lashes.
“After I met you in the pub that first night, my boss told me that my rati
ngs had dropped, my readers were down, and things weren’t looking good. She had this idea that if I fell in love it might spark renewed interest and reinvest my readers in my column. At first, I wasn’t going to do it, but then I ran into you at your office with Mel, and you asked me to the gala. Then afterward, you proposed we fake a relationship to earn press needed for Hidden Heartbeat—”
“And you agreed because it was what you needed too.” Logan’s swallowed.
It all made sense now. How she’d agreed so quickly when he had expected a fight.
“It was almost too perfect,” she murmured. “It was like you fell right into my lap, the perfect solution.”
Logan pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to absorb what she was saying.
He was her solution all along. Her solution. “You never cared about having a date for your father’s wedding,” he said, more a statement than a question.
“No.”
“But you let me believe that’s all you wanted.” He laughed, remembering what she said to him at the gala about not everyone having an agenda. “Looks like you had an agenda, after all.”
“I never imagined this caliber of feelings would be involved. And, yes, I didn’t tell you the whole truth, but I would never spill your secrets to the world, and I would never lie about you for my own personal gain. I might have mentioned it to Caroline and Mel but—”
Logan’s eyes widened. “You told your friends?”
Marti flinched. She toyed with the bracelet around her wrist. “Not everything. I just mentioned you lost a baby during your residency, that was it. I didn’t tell them about Allison or that you thought it was yours. And they would never, never say anything.”
He pivoted on his feet, getting in her face. “Forgive me if I have a hard time believing that. Because the truth of the matter is you admitted the first day we met to lying for you column. And here we are, with a giant headline that has my name on it making the ostentatious claim I killed my own baby.” He jabbed a finger into his chest. “On one of the most popular digital magazines in the country.”
His body tensed. He strode back into the kitchen and picked up the bottle of whiskey, ready to take another drink before his stomach roiled and he set it back down again.
