#Chapter 66: He Remembered

Emily I wasn’t sure what I expected when Logan told me we had somewhere to be this afternoon. A meeting, a press appearance, another forced smile to serve a Pack headline, maybe. But when the car pulled into the cobbled edge of the arts district and I spotted watercolor banners, and the faint smell of roasted almonds and beeswax, I blinked at him. “You’re bringing me to a craft festival?” I asked, one brow lifted. Logan cut the engine, unbothered. “It’s a historic artisan fair. Local vendors, Pack history demonstrations. Cultural investment.” “That’s a very official way of saying ‘craft festival.’” “I thought you might like it,” he said simply, opening his door before I could say more. I sat there for a beat longer, unsure what made me pause more: that he’d planned something casual, or that part of me did like it. The sun was warm but forgiving as we stepped into the plaza. Music drifted from a trio of violinists playing near a fountain. People wandered among potter