Page 34 of The Clover Chapel (Jamison Valley 2)
“Believe me when I tell you I didn’t expect him to be here. And that I regret not getting a divorce nine years ago.”
“I need some time.”
“Okay.” I sniffled, trying to pull myself together.
“I hate that we are having this conversation over the phone.”
“Me too. I love you, Logan,” I added before he could hang up.
“I love you too. I’ve got to go.”
Today had been a wreck and the worst was yet to come.
Date five.
After Nick had left yesterday, our conversation had replayed in my mind over and over again. Sleep had eluded me and I’d finally gotten up at three thirty and cleaned. Even though I had gone to school utterly exhausted this morning, at least my house was spotless.
The only break I’d caught today was with my students. They’d been angels, like they could sense I’d been on the edge of a meltdown and instead of pushing me over, they’d clung to my feet and kept me anchored.
When I’d gotten home, I had reluctantly called Logan. Not letting him brush me off again, I had forced the inevitable conversation. Now that was over and I had to mentally prepare for another evening with Nick.
It was only five thirty. I was guessing Nick wouldn’t get here until after six, which gave me at least thirty minutes to sit on my couch and cry.
And that’s just what I did.
“What’s wrong?” Nick asked when I answered the door.
“Nothing,” I lied. “What are we doing tonight?”
Nick crossed his arms over his chest. I mirrored his stance and we went into a stare-down.
I didn’t owe him any explanations. If I was upset, that was my problem. Not his. And there was no way in hell I was going to tell him that I’d been crying over my phone call with Logan. My relationship, my business.
“Fuck, you are a stubborn woman,” he muttered.
I raised my eyebrows and stuck out my chin, silently reminding him that he had yet to answer my question.
“We’re going to my place.”
“Fine. Let’s go,” I said and pushed past him, slamming the door behind me.
We rode to Nick’s house in silence. The sun was starting to set behind the mountains, the orange and yellow sky slowly fading into bright pinks and purples.
I had assumed that Nick lived in town but he actually lived quite close to me. After turning off the highway, we started winding up a narrow gravel road lined with tall trees.
The end of the lane opened into a small, round clearing in the forest. In the center was a two-st
ory log cabin. A covered porch ran the length of the house, and two large dormer windows jutted out of the roof on the second story. Behind the cabin was a large brown metal shop.
This was the quaint Montana cabin I had wanted. Seeing this place made me regret buying my house. It was too big and ostentatious. But a place like this would have been just right.
The front door opened to a large, open space. The glow from the soft white lights created a warm and cozy atmosphere. The floors were made from a rough-cut tan wood, and when I looked closely, I saw the circular grooves made from the saw blades.
One corner of the main room was a square kitchen filled with dark cabinets. A tall counter separated it from the rest of the living room. A stone fireplace was surrounded by brown leather furniture aimed at a large television in the corner.
Opposite the living room was a dining room table surrounded by six chairs. Both the table and chairs were made in the same log style as the living room’s coffee table.
As I inspected the inside of the house, I regretted my extravagant home purchase even more.
