Chapter 2

The business meeting went smoothly, wrapping up half a day ahead of schedule.

On the drive back, I stared at the GPS showing his town just twenty miles away. My heart hammered against my ribs.

Should I go, or should I turn back?

Logic pleaded with me to trust Logan and stop this paranoid second-guessing.

Yet gut-wrenching anxiety gripped my chest like a cold fist, suffocating me.

I pulled into a highway rest stop and opened our WhatsApp chat.

I typed: "Hey babe, you must be exhausted from the renovations. I miss you."

The screen flashed "typing..." several times, only to go silent.

Ten minutes later, he replied with a photo.

It showed stacks of tiles and bags of cement piled in a dim corner, too blurry to make out any real details.

Caption: "Just wrapped up details with the builder. Wrecked. Be good, wait till I finish this crazy stretch."

That single photo sealed my decision.

On the designer's invoice, I had specifically picked custom Italian marble tiles with a distinctive vein.

The tiles in his photo were the cheapest, generic white ceramic squares.

Taking a deep breath, I reset my GPS and steered the car straight toward his hometown.

Half an hour later, I rolled into the unfamiliar rural town.

The roads were narrow, making my city sedan stick out like a sore thumb.

Following his old offhand remarks, I headed toward the eastern edge of town.

Sure enough, on the outskirts stood a freshly updated two-story house with glaring white tiled siding, standing out sharply against the drab, weathered cottages around it.

The courtyard gate was shut, looking grand and pristine.

I parked down the road and stepped out, my legs trembling beneath me.

A few neighborhood women were sitting on porch chairs across the lane, gossiping and eyeing me, the stranger in town.

I steadied my breath, walked up, and forced a polite smile.

"Hi there. Excuse me, is this Logan's new place?"

A woman in a floral blouse looked me up and down with sharp curiosity.

"You looking for Logan? Who are you to him?"

My stomach dropped. My nails bit into my palms as I forced myself to stay calm.

"I'm a coworker of his. Just driving through on a business trip and thought I'd drop by."

"He mentioned he was renovating his new house, so I wanted to see if he needed a hand."

At the word "coworker," her guard dropped, though a flicker of suspicion lingered in her eyes.

"Help? What kind of help could you offer?"

I smiled smoothly, pointing toward the house.

"I know a few wholesale suppliers in construction. He mentioned he was short on good tiles, so I thought I'd check in."

The suspicion completely melted from her face, replaced by gossipy warmth.

"Oh, that's mighty kind of you! It's his wedding house, after all—can't cut corners on that."

"Wedding house?" I faked surprise. "He's getting married? He never mentioned that at work!"

The woman waved her hand, sporting a look that screamed *how could you not know?*

"Not hitched yet, but real soon. Held the big engagement party with Phoebe from the next town just last month. Gave her folks twenty grand in cash as a wedding settlement."

Another neighbor leaned in, lowering her voice:

"Shotgun wedding, they say."

"Just waiting on the house to wrap up. Wedding's set for before the holidays."

Every word after that blurred into static.

My mind went completely blank, my ears ringing with deafening silence.