Page 16 of Fake Engagement with my Brother's Best Friend

“Grace,” I start, my voice cracking as I take a step toward her.

She backs away, shaking her head, the look on her face breaking my heart. “I—I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she says, her voice shaky and distant. “It’s fine, Logan. Really. If you want to be with Samantha, I get it.”

“No,” I say quickly, but the panic in my voice only seems to make her retreat faster. “Grace, come on—”

She doesn’t let me finish. She turns on her heel and starts walking away, and I can see the way her shoulders tremble, the way she’s fighting to keep it together.

I turn back to Samantha, who’s watching the whole thing unfold with a smug smile on her face. “What the hell did you do?” I snap, my anger flaring.

She shrugs, clearly enjoying the chaos she’s caused. “Nothing, Logan. I didn’t do anything. You’re the one who keeps playing games.”

Chapter Nine

Grace

I storm down the hallway, my heart pounding so hard it feels like it’s going to burst out of my chest. The tears sting at the back of my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. Not here. Not where he might see. I don’t even know why I’m reacting like this, why it hurts so much to think that Logan might still have feelings for Samantha.

It shouldn’t matter. We’re not really together. This was never supposed to be anything more than a stupid game, a charade to get through these two weeks. Somewhere along the line, I let my guard down, and now it’s all crashing down around me.

I hear Logan calling my name, his footsteps echoing down the hall as he catches up to me, but I don’t slow down. I can’t face him, not when everything is so raw.

“Grace, wait!” His voice is closer now, and I know I can’t avoid him any longer. I stop abruptly, spinning around to face him, my arms crossed tightly over my chest as if that could somehow protect me from the flood of emotions threatening to spill over.

“What?” I snap, my voice harsher than I intend, but I can’t help it. “What do you want, Logan?”

He looks at me, his expression torn between frustration and concern. “Grace, you didn’t hear the whole conversation. It’s not what you think.”

I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head. “Not what I think? Logan, I saw you with her. I heard you. It’s fine, okay? It’sfine. We aren’t really together, so you’re a free man. You can do whatever you want. Be with whoever you want.”

He steps closer, his voice softening. “No, you don’t understand. Samantha doesn’t mean anything to me anymore. I was trying to tell her that—”

“Stop,” I cut him off, holding up a hand to keep him from getting any closer. “Just stop. You don’t owe me any explanations, Logan. We’re not a real couple.”

The words taste bitter on my tongue, but I push through, trying to keep my emotions in check. “And it’s my fault,” I continue, my voice trembling. “It’s my fault for letting my emotions get the best of me, for forgetting what this really is. Just because we had sex doesn’t mean there’s any commitment. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Logan’s face falls, the hurt in his eyes clear as day, but I force myself to stay strong, to hold onto the anger, because it’s the only thing keeping me from falling apart.

“Grace, I didn’t mean—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” I interrupt, my voice sharp as I push past him. “It’s done, okay? Let’s just get through these next few days and be done with this whole mess.”

I start walking away again, not daring to look back, not wanting to see the pain in his eyes. The tears that I’ve been holding back finally spill over, blurring my vision as I put as much distance between us as possible.

***

I spend the next few hours trying to push Logan—and everything that just happened—out of my mind. It’s harder than I thought it would be. The memory of our argument keeps replaying in my head, and every time I think about it, my chest tightens with a mix of regret and frustration. I know I can’t dwell on it, not with so much still to do for Emily’s wedding.

I find Emily in one of the resort’s event rooms, surrounded by stacks of wedding invitations, seating charts, and sample menus. She’s sitting at a large table, her face lit up with that excited glow she’s had ever since she got engaged. It’s infectious, usually, but today, I can’t seem to muster up the same enthusiasm.

“Grace!” Emily looks up and beams at me as I walk in. “I’m so glad you’re here. I could really use some help with these menus. I thought we had it all sorted, but there’s a problem with the vegetarian option.”

I force a smile and take a seat across from her, trying to focus on the task at hand. “Sure, I’d love to help.”

For the next hour, we go over the menus, seating arrangements, and other last-minute details for the wedding, which is only ten days away. Emily is in full planning mode, chatting away about the colors, the flowers, the music. I nod and offer opinions when needed, but my mind is only half-present. I can’t stop thinking about Logan, about the mess I’ve gotten myself into.

Emily’s excitement is palpable, and I want to be happy for her—I really do—but the weight of everything that’s happened with Logan is dragging me down. It’s like a dark cloud hanging over what should be a joyful time, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to shake it.

“Grace?” Emily’s voice breaks through my thoughts, and I realize I’ve been staring at the same menu option for the past few minutes without really seeing it.

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