Page 41 of The Clover Chapel (Jamison Valley 2)
“Right.” I frowned. That meant we weren’t going to get all weekend together. Instead, we’d have less than forty-eight hours.
“I’m behind as it is, Emmeline. Taking a couple of days off right now isn’t helping. I’m just hoping if I check in today and work for a couple hours tomorrow, I won’t go home to a disaster.”
It hadn’t been my idea for him to fly out here. If this was such an inconvenient trip, why had he even bothered to come? We could have talked on the phone. Was he here to make me feel guilty for two days? Because I didn’t need his help for that.
I kept my eyes on the road and bit my lip. I didn’t want to get into an argument with Logan twenty minutes into his visit.
“I thought it would be prettier. Greener maybe,” Logan said.
“What do you mean?”
“Montana. I thought it would be prettier. Everything is brown.”
“Are you crazy? It is pretty,” I said. “I think the contrast between the flat land down here and all of the mountains and forest around us is breathtaking. And the grass is golden because it’s winter.”
“Don’t be offended. I just had a different image in my head,” he said and looked at his phone.
I used the rest of the drive to calm down.
Why were we snapping at each other? We had never fought when I’d lived in the city. We’d been short with one another lately but I had assumed it was because we’d been adjusting to a long-distance relationship. Maybe there was more behind those calls than I had wanted to admit.
“Let’s walk around Main Street a bit,” I said. “It’s really cute and I could show you some of my favorite spots.”
I loved the quaint feel of Main Street. Maybe Logan would too. All of the stores had character. Nothing matched but everything went together. And it came together naturally, not forced like it was on so many of the Manhattan streets where I had once lived.
The window displays weren’t professionally designed. The signs weren’t expertly coordinated. Prescott wasn’t fancy or elaborate, but it had real charm. Its allure was in the people who took pride in their work and town.
Logan held my hand as we strolled down the street. I occasionally pointed out different stores that I liked, but instead of finding anything positive about them, he made a few comments about the plethora of Western apparel and the abundance of horseshoes.
I brushed off his remarks and kept walking, hoping he wasn’t going to be so judgmental during his entire visit.
As we passed the sporting goods store, I caught a glimpse of our reflection in the glass door and laughed.
“What?” Logan asked.
“We look out of place. I’m still dressed up from school. You’re perfectly styled as always. The only thing about us that goes with Prescott is your jeans.”
“That’s because we are out of place, Emmeline.”
My laughter stopped immediately at the sight of his serious face. “It was a joke, Logan. Why are you acting like this?”
“Your joke wasn’t funny and I’m acting like I always do. I apologize for not being overjoyed to spend Thanksgiving in Montana, walking around a little town with my girlfriend, who has somehow convinced herself that she fits in here.”
“Then why did you come?” I asked, stopping on the sidewalk.
“Because we need to have a conversation about your marriage. I’ve got a conference call scheduled with Andrews on Friday morning before I leave. I need to be better informed about what he’s doing but he won’t discuss the divorce proceedings with me unless you are present.”
“Logan, tell me you didn’t go around me to Fred Andrews. Not after I told you I was getting it taken care of.”
“You had nine years to get it taken care of and you didn’t. So yes, I went around you.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Why? Maybe because I had hoped someday you would be my wife. That the ring I’ve tried to give you twice now might actually go on your finger.”
My anger was immediately replaced with guilt.
Shit.
