In the darkness of my bedroom, I knew it was late, so late in fact it was almost early. But I couldn’t sleep. I was lost in the dream like haze of morning grogginess. Taking a deep breath, I threw on some sweat pants and a tank top, taking a last glance at Remy who was still fast asleep. I slipped out of my bedroom quietly.
I clenched my teeth, annoyed with myself. Not for allowing myself that level of intimacy with Remy, no. But allowing such an amazing man to be a rebound... wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to him, Logan, or me. I sighed, as I wandered down the hall from my bedroom, lightly tracing my hand along the wall as I always do, feeling the texture.
As I tip toed into the kitchen, pouring myself a juice I tried not to let my thoughts travel to Logan. But like always, they did. Like an unstoppable force that I couldn’t control.
I was beginning to realize the truth of the matter. The fact that in the sense, that everyone was to blame... No one was at fault. I had already searched my mind various times for any possible way to blame Jean. Unfortunately, she had played a minor part in Logan and my affair. It had been an impulsive fling between friends. A meaningless event which came and passed, and will eventually be nothing more than a memory when Logan and Jean get married.
As I made my way down the stairs, into the kitchen, I had realized three things.
1. I’ll have to get over it.
2. It’s just as much Logan’s fault as it is mine.
And
3. I’ll never let him go.
***
“White flowers or pink flowers?” The meaningless question echoed through me. I stared at the selection, without really seeing the roses laid out in front of Jean and I. “Honey?” Jean murmured quietly, setting one hand on my knee. I snapped out of it.
“I don’t give a shit.”I muttered standing up and walking to where she couldn’t touch me. I knew the wedding planner was giving me a strange look, I just didn’t care to acknowledge it. She could go fuck herself for all I cared.
As I kept walking I could still hear them talking. “We’ll go with the white ones, with the garnish you showed us before.” I rolled my eyes. Garnish. Roses. A big white wedding. How in the fucking hell did I end up here?
I suddenly felt light headed, just a small tingling sensation, and I spun around to glare at Jean. “Stop it.” I growled. I had become increasingly aware of when she was trying to read my mind. And lately, it had been a lot. She had no idea how to deal with me anymore.
Her eyes softened at my harsh tone as she stepped closer to me to take my hand. “Hey,” she said, and I could feel the edge of sharpness. “Every man goes through this phase before they get married.”
If she’s trying to tell me that every man cheats on his fiancé with his best friend and ruins everything before the wedding, I call bullshit. I kept my eyes on hers, trying my best not to demand why we were still getting married.
I cheated. I’m a jackass. She knows it, and I know it. But we still hadn’t talked about it. I was actually pleased about that. I wasn’t a fan of listening to her opinions on who I spend my time with. Jean never liked Marie.
Marie.
My mind lingered on the honey sweet name a moment, before my fists clenched enough to attract attention from everyone in this florist shop. This isn’t healthy. I felt the metal just under the surface of my skin, begging to come out.
“I need some air.” I muttered under my breath as an excuse to escape the shop that suddenly made me feel claustrophobic; caged. Trudging out the door I lit a cigar, and inhaled. Jean may have never liked Marie, but Marie never showed any ill thought towards her. She didn’t hate anyone, even those who deserved it.
Hopefully she hates me. Because I deserve it. I hate myself enough for both of us.
One way or another, the girl was over me. And as much as I hated that, despised that, loathed that. It was better that way. She’s better off with the Cajun. That fucking swamp rat. I might kill him, if I didn’t think she wanted him around. After all, she spent the night with the boy. Even though I could never see the appeal. She likes him, maybe more, and he likes her too.
But that doesn’t say anything. She can pick some real assholes.
Like me.
And why the fuck was she wearing a cast?
If the Cajun fucking hurt her I swear to god that fucking asshole is going to pay in ounces of blood—
“Logan?” Jean was behind me again.
I turned, forgetting I had the cigar in my mouth. She saw it of course, and being the doctor she is, grabbed it and threw it to the ground before stamping it out. Bitch.
“What?” I grumbled.
“The professor just called, he needs you for something.” She didn’t look happy about it. “You go on down to the mansion, I’ll see you at home.” We were only a block or two away from the house, so I could walk back. She took a step closer to me, laying her hand on the side of my face and kissing me before going back into the shop.
On any normal occasion I wouldn’t care what Chuck wanted me for, and I’d probably blow it off. But hey, I can go check on the mansion. I haven’t been there for a day or two. I’ll just stop by and see how everyone is doing. At least I have an excuse to be there this time.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Hopefully I made the switch in perspectives clear enough. I'm a bit worried about that. I'm sorry this chapter is so short and took so long. I have been having a ton of trouble with this lately and I don't know why, but I decided I had to put up a new chapter before I left for my trip.
I was reluctant to put in Logan's view but by popular demand, I hope you like it.
I was reluctant to put in Logan's view but by popular demand, I hope you like it.
Chapter End Notes:
So comment! I really need feedback for this one, because it gave me such a hard time. I'd love to know what all of you thought about it.