Waiting for the One by L.A. Fiore Page B

see what I hadn’t before. Logan looking back at me. The gorgeous man in the photo—the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen—is Logan without his disguise.
    “Logan is David?” Stupid question, but shock is setting in.
    She almost looks jubilant at the pain that is no doubt covering my expression. “Yes, and I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you, but I think you have a right to know.”
    “Logan’s engaged to someone?”
    “Yes.”
    “Even though he’s been living here alone for over half a year?”
    She grips my hands almost painfully. “Saffron, they got engaged before he moved here, but she knows he likes his solitude when he’s working, which is why she doesn’t visit. He goes to her in Manhattan.”
    His words to me from the other night about his life leading him to me no longer incite joy but a pain that slices through me. My reply is barely audible. “Thank you for telling me.”
    She nods but says nothing else. After dropping that bomb, she just walks away. I stand there numb and sick as I replay her words in my head. I don’t want to believe her, but Logan’s own actions are pretty damning: his refusal t o take me to New York City and his odd reaction to my request that he shave. No wonder he keeps his face hidden. With a face like his, he’d constantly be drawing attention to himself. Turning from her retreating form, I see Logan coming down the street toward me. Clearly he sees me too, since he’s moving with determined strides through the crowd to reach my side.
    “You dodged that bullet.” He reaches for a lock of my hair, but I take a step away from him. “Where have you been, Logan?”
    He pushes his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “I had business in Manhattan.”
    Manhattan. I feel my heart cracking and that turns my anger into something darker. “Really, why?”
    He stands immobile for a minute and the only way I know he’s even heard my question is the subtle clenching of his jaw.
    “A sale.”
    Hurt turns to rage. “So what exactly is going on between us? Are we dating or are we just fucking?”
    His eyes flash with anger before he lowers his head and hisses at me. “What’s gotten into you?”
    “How’s the fiancée, David?”
    He goes completely still and I can tell by the look on his face that Elise has told me the truth. A numbness spreads over me and my cracked heart shatters. I turn to walk away because I want to hurt him and don’t trust myself not to. His hand wraps around my upper arm.
    “Let me explain.”
    I refuse to look at him. “Are you David Cambre?” I ask, but my voice comes out no louder than a whisper.
    “Yes.”
    “Are you engaged?”
    “It’s not what you think.”
    Despite my anger, I feel the sob burning its way up my throat.
    “Give me a chance to explain.”
    And that is all it takes to unleash my temper. Spinning to face him, I snarl, “A chance, now, really? Because you had plenty of chances, but had no desire to share anything with me. So now that your secret is out, you’re feeling chatty?”
    “It isn’t like that.”
    “Go back to Manhattan and to your fiancée because we’re done.” I try to pull from his hold, but he won’t release me.
    “Please,” he whispers.
    Looking into those green eyes, I know that I’m completely in love with him and, even so, everything between us was a lie. This realization makes me snap and before I know my intention, I’m curling my hand into a fist a second before I plow it right into his jaw. He releases me in shame, but with my balance off from throwing the punch, I pitch over the side of the bulkhead. The water is so cold. I’m struggling to keep my head up; I can hear the muffled voices of people screaming for help, the sound of footsteps pounding down the dock to get to me. My lungs burn and my arms grow tired. The weight of my dress proves too much as the sea pulls me under.
    When I come to, I’m in the local clinic and it feels as if there’s a hundred-pound cat on