Page 72 of Vixen's Guide to Christmas
Okay. Thanks. I’ll make my way over there soon.
Is everything okay?
I hatethat my best friend knows me so well that even over text message, he can tell that I’m not myself. And because I haven’t immediately responded, a phone call is coming in three…two…
“What’s the matter?”
I laugh through a threatening tear. I really don’t want to cry in public more than I already have. Sure, I’m tucked away in a back corner of the Timberline where I don’t think anyone has realized that I’m hanging out, but still, we don’t need a breakdown. Not on Christmas.
“Nothing,” I lie, closing my eyes to keep in the tears. “Just been a hard morning.”
“What happened? Did something happen with Grayson? Did he hurt you? Kat, I swear to God?—”
“No, nothing like that,” I quickly say. “The only thing that hurt me was life.”
I go on to tell Logan about the last few days. How Grayson and I have come together. How we really saw a future with each other when we got back to Nashville. Then, I fast forwarded to today. Me and the Timberline. Grayson and his promotion. The fact that it’s in New York. Me telling him that he needed to go.
Me having the first heartbreak I’ve had in years.
What I left out were things that happened when I was wearing black lace, all things having to do with showers, and that I’m pretty sure I’m in love.
“Really? That’s it? Just another city?”
“Yes, that’s it.” How is this his reaction? “Why are you not more sympathetic? Telling me that I’m going to be okay, and that I made the right decision? You know, encouraging words that a best friend should give.”
“Because that’s not what you need to hear.”
I throw my head back and pinch my nose. “Making the choice to have a man as a best friend really sucks sometimes.”
He laughs. “Katherine, I love you. I’ve trusted every part of my life in your hands. You’ve never steered me wrong. Which is why, right now, I’m not going to tell you what you want to hear, but what you need to hear.”
“And what’s that?”
“That you’re being a proper idiot.”
Wow. Apparently for Christmas Logan got me a trip to St. Lucia and a slap across the face. “Thanks. Put that on my Christmas card.”
He laughs. “Well, you are.”
“How? Because I told him that he shouldn’t give up his dream for a woman he’s known for a week? That it would be his biggest regret if he stayed in Nashville because of me and didn’t go after his dream? That was the smart thing to do.”
“And I’m not saying that it wasn’t.”
Now I’m even more confused. “If that wasn’t the dumb thing, then will you tell me what it is? And none of this you guiding me so I can figure it out for myself. I have a headache and haven’t had a cookie all day. I’m not in the mood for a guessing game.”
“Fine,” he says, though he’s still chuckling. “Go with him.”
“I think the signal must be bad. What did you say?”
“I said, go with him. Move to New York.”
“Ha!” I yell out. “Logan, I love that you’re a hopeless romantic, and that you got to marry the love of your life after knowing her for two weeks, but I’ve known the man for less time than that. I’m not picking up my life and moving to a new city because of a few days of good sex and the dopamine hit I’m still riding.”
Yes it’s more than that, but he has to know how ridiculous he sounds.
Because it is ridiculous, right?
“I can see where the hesitation comes in, but all I’m saying is that you don’t have to make Nashville your home.”
