Page 43 of The Clover Chapel (Jamison Valley 2)
He had been right.
Everything had changed.
Living in Montana had shed light on the problems Logan and I’d had before Nick had ever gotten thrown into the mix. Logan and I wanted different lifestyles. I had found a home in Montana and he loved New York. I was happier living a quieter life while he thrived on busy workdays and a hectic social calendar.
“It’s not just Nick, is it?” I whispered. “It’s me here. You there. I’m not coming back. And you’ll never leave.”
“No. It’s not just him.”
We sat in silence for a few moments until Logan spoke. “I think I had better change my answer to your previous question. I believe I am here to break up with you.”
I knew it was coming but that didn’t make it any less painful to hear. My breath hitched and I struggled to get it back.
When I twisted my neck to look into his eyes, the ache in my chest grew so fierce I feared my heart would stop beating. “I’m so sorry, Logan.”
“Me too.” Reaching across the console, he cupped the back of my head and pulled me in for a kiss.
I let our good-bye kiss convey all of the things I didn’t say. That I was grateful for every moment we’d had together. That I would never be able to thank him enough for all the wonderful things he had done for me these past five years. That I would always remember him and care for him deeply.
“Be happy,” he said, then climbed out of my Jeep and got in his SUV, backing out of my driveway and out of my life.
When he was no longer in my rearview mirror, I collapsed into the steering wheel with body-wrenching sobs.
“You know I love seeing you, dear. Especially around the holidays. But I think you’d better tell me why you called to say ‘Merry Christmas’ and fourteen hours later you’re here in Italy.”
My mother and I were sitting side by side in the spa at the CastaDiva Resort on Lake Como. My body was wrapped
in a white plush robe and my feet were getting an elaborate pedicure.
Yesterday morning I had been home in Montana. Today I was in Italy for an unplanned but necessary vacation.
“It’s a long story, Mom,” I said.
“Then we’d best get a bottle of wine while you tell me what is going on.”
“You’d better make it two.”
An hour later, she was caught up on my complicated love life and we were both tipsy.
“What happened after Logan left?” she asked.
“I drove to the grocery store and loaded up on junk food. Then I camped out on the couch for the rest of the weekend, binge-watching old episodes of Friends for four days.”
“Have you talked to him?”
“Logan? No. I sent him a text saying Merry Christmas but that was it.” I left out the part where he had responded by asking me not to text him again because he needed to put some distance between us. Apparently, two thousand miles weren’t enough.
“And Nick?” she asked.
“He came to my school the Monday after Thanksgiving. I said I wasn’t ready to see him yet and asked him to stop pushing. He agreed, but I think it was only because I told him Logan and I had broken up.”
The look of relief on Nick’s face was burned into my brain. I’d wanted to slap him for being so glad that I had been heartbroken. But at the same time, that look had been honest and pure. Everything that he had been telling me had been true.
He wasn’t playing a game. He wanted another chance and he had been genuinely scared that I would choose Logan.
“I haven’t seen him, but he sends me text messages every day,” I said. “Usually just says hello. Tells me what he’s up to. They’re thoughtful.”
“Hmm. And why did you come here?” she asked.
