Crazy Little Thing Called Love by Beth K. Vogt Read Free Book Online Page B

other.
    It was all done so quietly and nicely via mail. Sign here, convenient little yellow sticky arrows pointing to the appropriate lines for our signatures.
    But then, would I know how to say goodbye to Logan—the girl who’s always been so good at goodbyes? What do you say when a divorce is finalized? Thank you for the good memories? Thanks for asking me to marry you . . . and thank you for turning in all the paperwork on time so this didn’t drag out?
    Yeah. So you say nothing. Your signature speaks for you. We’re done. There’s no longer an “us” standing in the way of what you want to do with your life.
    Vanessa flung the journal onto the bed. How appropriate. Skip to the ending.
    She searched the hotel fridge, reaching past the six-pack of Coke she’d purchased to grab one of the “complimentary” bottles of water. Let ’em charge her for it.
    Wrapped in the comfort of the dry blanket, she hid in the darkness of the balcony. She huddled in the white plastic deck chair, her arms hugging her knees. With the chair pulled forward, the Gulf breeze caressed her face. The beach looked normal again. Safe. No more rescue crews. No more reporters. No more crowds.
    No ex-husband.
    She pressed her forehead to her knees, her eyes squeezed shut.
    Why, God, why?
    She was being brave, coming here. Crossing the bridge that led to her past.
    And then she decided to walk the beach—the same stretch of beach she and Logan had strolled so many evenings, watching sunsets. Or had sat on a blanket and watched lightning storms rage across the night sky. The same beach where he’d coaxed her from the security of the shore out into the water and onto a surfboard for the first time.
    The same beach where Logan had first said he loved her.
    Tonight, she walked alone.
    No ghost.
    Not a whisper of Logan’s voice.
    And then someone needed help—and what was she supposed to do? Ignore the pleas of the boy’s friends? Of course not. But why, God, why did she have to come face-to-face with Logan . . . so close she could have touched him.
    â€œVanessa? What are you doing here?”
    â€œI’m getting married, Logan.” Her voice wavered. Cracked.
    Vanessa twisted the cap off the bottle of water, tipped it back, and drank, the cool liquid burning her lips even as it soothed her parched throat.
    Coming here was a mistake.
    She couldn’t start a new life with Ted by having their wedding in the same place where she’d fallen in love with her first husband.
    What was that saying again? A wise girl knows her limits.
    Between her undergrad degree and all her training to be a paramedic, she considered herself intelligent and street-smart. When it came to what she could and could not do, she was wise enough to know marrying Ted Topliff in Destin was beyond her limits.
    If Ted was determined to attach their ceremony to a medical conference, then he’d have to choose one in another locale.
    That was it, plain and simple.
    Ted was a reasonable man—and she wasn’t asking for much other than a change in venue.
    For now, she was going to take a long, hot shower. Order room service, without looking at the prices. And then find a ridiculous movie—something that would make her laugh until she cried.
AUGUST 2003
    It was bad enough her parents had moved the family—again. But why couldn’t they have figured out a way to cross the Florida state line before school started?
    Vanessa lifted her chin, staring at the high school’s double doors leading outside—where she could exhale, stop smiling, and stop saying hello to everyone. Stop pretending that remembering dozens of names and faces really was as easy as she made it look. Other students flowed past her, while some stood around the lockers lining the hallways. A few called her name—evidence of how well she pulled off the new student role—snippets of conversations and laughter