He was grinning when he eased back and took out the ring.
My hand was shaking like crazy as he slipped it onto my finger. Tears streamed free.
But these tears?
They shouted of forever.
Joy squeezed me tight when I lifted my hand to admire it. It was dainty and delicate, the band rose gold with a floral filigree, the diamond small and perfect and represented everything I’d ever dreamed.
“I’ll replace the stone.” His jaw flexed.
I choked out a laugh and held my hand protectively against my chest. “Don’t you dare, Logan Lawson.”
His expression turned tender. As if he saw something in me that he’d once thought missing.
And looking at him?
I saw what I’d once believed of him.
My beautiful, sweet man.
Fierce.
Loyal.
Right and good and kind.
My everything.
My North Star.
THIRTY-FIVE
LOGAN
LOS ANGELES, NINETEEN YEARS OLD
Logan rubbedthe star-shaped note between his fingers as he slipped out the back door of the office and into the night. The second he stepped outside, his heart rate spiked.
Anticipation.
Need.
A sticky, heavy dread.
Because he could feel it catching up to them.
He felt her presence emanating from behind the outbuilding, her sweet spirit stretching out in a slow build of seduction.
His Little Star that shined so bright.
“Why are you hiding?” he muttered.
Intensity flashed, and she peeked out from around the corner. “Because I have to.”
“Are you going to get into trouble?” It was purely a tease.
They were already in so much trouble.