Capturing the Moment

Chapter 2

Sidney

For a second, I have no idea what I'm staring at. It's a tabloid article, but it might as well be abstract art.

My eyes zero in on the picture first instead of the headline. There's a couple kissing passionately, their arms tangled around each other, and I have no clue what any of this has to do with me.

Then I notice the man's shirt, the same forest green shirt that Logan was wearing this morning. I notice his jeans. The man's perfectly tousled dirty blonde hair. And I notice the woman. What I can see of her, anyway. Her hair is as dark brown as chocolate, skin as pale and freckled, and I don't have to see anything else.

I would know Amelia Wolfe anywhere. She was the female lead in Logan's last film. We attended parties together. She ate dinner at my house, with my good china, multiple times. Sat at my table and let me pour her an extra glass of my good wine from Spain.

My vision starts to blur, but I can still make out the headline: Logan Brent Courts New Love Interest Hours After Breaking His Engagement

Breaking our engagement? That means we split? What?!

We just had breakfast together on the veranda. He kissed me before he left, told me he loved me. I am picking out a venue for our wedding, for goodness sake.

What split? Calling off our engagement?

Beneath the picture is a helpful collection of bullet points. Which is great for people like me. Scorned fiance's who don't have time to read an article about the worst day of their lives. Just the highlights.

The last of the bullet points catch my eye: But don't worry, he didn't cheat. He announced his split from Sidney Weston on Instagram before being photographed at brunch with Amelia Wolfe.

Our breakup is already public? On Instagram?

Fantastic.

His little photo op with Amelia is probably the top story on every news outlet known to man.

Suddenly, I can't breathe.

I hand Nicole her phone back and grab my own. There has to be more to the story. Maybe it's a publicity stunt gone wrong, or a misunderstanding. We're planning our wedding for the next 3 months. Maybe Amelia stopped breathing and needed CPR.

Or hopefully I'm still in bed and I will wake up from this god-forsaken nightmare.

There's no text from Logan. No calls, no voicemails. Nothing. A text to breakup would be better than this tabloid article announcement. Everyone else has texted or called to check in.

My agent.

My assistant.

My best friend, Korinne.

My manager.

My PR team.

My mother.

Everyone, but the man in question. The man caught red-handed with the one person he swore there were no feelings for.

All of his excuses keep playing in my mind about why they hung out longer or extra dinner dates in the studio.

"They're just extra practices. We need more rehearsals, babe. We really want to nail down these characters. We need to make sure the characters seem like they actually like each other."

The irony of his word choice isn't lost on me. I dial his number, but he doesn't pick up. Comes at a surprise to no one.

They're all staring at me. All the people in this tiny little office. They're watching my life collapse, brows knit in pity and concern. Nicole is looking at not sure if she should help me get up to leave or hug me.