Veronica scanned the slick covers with dolled-up celebrities and scantily clad women, skimming headlines that promised to teach her the top 10 ways to please a man in bed and find the perfect summer bikini.
Damn, she thought frowning. How sad is it that I have no use for either of those?
"Ladies and gentlemen, flight 134 to San Diego has been delayed," the woman's voice droned over the airport loudspeaker, penetrating into the newsstand near her gate.
Veronica sighed and turned from the magazines, deciding she'd need something considerably lengthier to occupy herself during the long, and now-delayed flight, back home to Neptune. She'd been swamped for weeks, finishing her latest magazine photo spread chronicling a homeless mother trying to raise three kids on the streets of New York. She was exhausted and liked the idea of losing herself in a good book.
It had been months since she'd had time to even browse through a bookstore, let alone read for mere pleasure. So she was behind on what books had made which bestsellers lists, but vaguely remembered one of the other reporters talking about a new one that was creating a buzz. What was it called?
Veronica was making her way to the bookshelves, when something on a display caught her eye. Copies of the latest hot new book were artfully stacked and arranged on a table, along with a placard proclaiming "best first novel in decades" and "a refreshing, talented new voice." But it was the familiar face, peering at her from the back cover that made her heart stop.
Logan.
Stunned, Veronica picked up one of the books and began reading the front flap. Logan's novel was a coming-of-age story about a boy who was raised in a home of wealth and privilege, but grew up hiding his bruises with lies and long-sleeved shirts. His one saving grace was his best friend, a girl he later fell in love with.
She flipped through the first few pages and stopped at the dedication. "For V," it said, simply. Veronica's fingers brushed the words on the page and felt her throat tighten.
"Excuse me." A man, reaching for one of Logan's books, brushed against her interrupting Veronica's thoughts. She closed the book and grabbed a bottle of water before heading to the counter to pay.
Once outside, Veronica scanned the waiting area for an empty seat, finally settling on one near the wall of windows overlooking the tarmac. She sat down and cracked open the book eagerly and … a little nervously.
She hadn't seen Logan in two years. Not since the break up. At first she had thought it was for the best and ignored how much she missed him. But lately at night, when she came home to her silent and empty apartment, Veronica found herself remembering the easy, comfortable evenings they'd spent together in his beach house and couldn't help wondering … what if? Which inevitably led to the vague, niggling feeling that she'd foolishly thrown away something all too precious and rare.
With a start, Veronica looked up from her book and saw that people were starting to board the plane. Gathering her bag and sweater, she clutched the book to her chest and went to stand in line. She'd already devoured more than 200 pages of Logan's book, and so far she loved it. The tight, crisp writing was bitingly funny and she'd laughed out loud several times.
Later after her seatbelt was safely fastened and she had settled in for the six-hour flight she learned that Logan was equally adept at bringing her to tears.
Logan's heartbreaking descriptions of a boy, who put up walls to hide his terror, were painful reminders of the many times she'd seen him hanging back along the edges of the Kanes' pool, arms covered, while everyone else splashed in the cool water.
Veronica quietly sobbed when, the hero in Logan's book suddenly found himself alone in the world after a single bloody night left him an orphan at the tender age of 16.
And the tears flowed anew as she read how he abruptly left home after graduation, unable to even bring himself to say good-bye to the girl who'd always pulled him from the edge of despair. Alone, he wandered through Europe, leaving each town before getting attached to anyone, unwilling to make a connection of any kind.
Until the day he saw someone in a crowded street.
All too soon, Veronica reached the last page. Feeling satisfied and hopeful, she shut the book, leaned back and closed her eyes. That was when the memories came flooding back.
In hindsight, Veronica realized that Logan had been dropping hints for months, ever since they'd graduated from Hearst. But at the time, it had taken her completely by surprise.
It happened on a cool spring evening, when they were making dinner at his beach house. Veronica had refused to move in with him, preferring to rent her own studio apartment a few miles away. That night, after she'd finished tossing the salad, she'd gone to the bathroom to wash up and when she came back the dining room was flickering in candlelight. A small, black jewelry box stood on her plate, instead of Logan's lasagna.
When she saw the ring nestled inside, Veronica had blurted out, "I can't marry you."
They'd fought bitterly, the battle ending only when Veronica stormed out, slamming the front door so hard the windows shook in their panes. The next morning, after a sleepless night sobbing into her pillow, Veronica called the magazine editor she'd met a few weeks before to accept his job offer in New York.
By the time Logan had knocked on her door a few days later to apologize, Veronica was gone.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we have landed at San Diego International Airport and will begin the taxi to our gate. Please remain in your seats with the seatbelts fastened until the plane comes to a complete stop."
Veronica woke with a start, as the plane stopped and passengers around her began standing, eager to disembark. Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she took a deep breath and tried to shake the remnants of her dream. She stood, and hoisted her messenger bag across her chest, grabbing the book and her sweater.
Home sweet home, she thought.
Minutes later, Veronica's gaze swept the throngs of people waiting below as the escalator descended towards the baggage claim area. She didn't see Keith, but knew he must be there. She wondered if he'd known about Logan's book, which she grasped in her hand. His beautiful words were still swirling around in her head, so when Veronica saw the lanky figure leaning against a post, legs crossed, hands stuffed in jean pockets, she thought she'd conjured him up.
Logan.
He straightened when he saw her, his lips curving in a shy smile. Heart pounding, Veronica walked over to him.
"Hey," he said.
For a moment, she just stood there, speechless. Then without saying a word, she dropped the book and sweater and reached up to wrap her arms around Logan's neck, hugging him tightly. He still smelled the same. Part cologne, part sun screen and ocean. Tears pricked her eyes and she thought, God I've missed this missed him. Then, as she felt his arms snake around her back pressing her close, it crossed her mind that she finally home.
They broke apart a few minutes later, and she took a step back.
"What are you doing here?" Veronica asked.
Logan shoved his hands back in his pockets and shrugged, ducking his head to look down at his feet.
"I heard you were coming home, so I called your dad and asked if I could pick you up," he said. "Uh, I hope that was o.k."
Veronica could only nod. He glanced up, and a slight frown furrowed his brow as he studied her face. Logan reached out and cupped her cheek, gently brushing it with his thumb.
"You've been crying," he said, concern lacing his voice. "Some asshole break your heart?"
Veronica hesitated, then shook her head. After all, Logan didn't really break her heart. She broke his – and her own in the process.
"I … I read your book on the plane," she said. "Logan … It was wonderful. I loved it."
"So, my book made you cry? Veronica, did you finish it? 'Cause most people would say it has a happy ending."
"I couldn't put it down."
Logan nodded, his eyes never leaving hers.
"Yeah, well I'm starting to suspect I'm just a one hit wonder," he said, finally. "I've got my publisher breathing down my neck for the draft of my next book, but I'm totally stuck. If she only knew how the first one got done."
Veronica grinned, rolling her eyes. "Uh oh. Dare I ask?"
Logan let out a deep chuckle. "No, it's nothing like that. I just hit a wall, and had no idea where I was going and then, I don't know, I had this kind of epiphany and the rest of the book basically wrote itself."
"That's funny …" Veronica said, drawing out her words. "I had this kind of epiphany, myself, when I was reading your book." Suddenly feeling bold, she took a step closer to him so that their bodies were mere inches away.
"Oh?" Logan instinctively rested a hand on her hip, reaching up with the other one to brush loose strands of hair from her face. His mouth stretched in a lazy smile and he asked, "So are you going to tell me what this epiphany of yours was?"
"It was during the turning point. You know, when he sees the woman on the street that reminds him of her and he goes rushing back home to tell her he loves her? That's when it hit me," Veronica paused.
"That's when what hit you?"
"I'm still in love with you," Veronica said.
Logan had been lightly stroking her neck with his fingers, but they stilled at Veronica's words. He smiled and rested his forehead on hers, before bending his head to capture her lips. Their first kiss after two years of separation started slow and sweet, then gradually deepened as they sought relearned each other's grooves and planes and tastes.
Reluctantly, Logan drew back and smiling he cleared his throat.
"You know, it's funny," he said. "I had the exact same epiphany."
"What? You're in love with yourself, too?" Veronica quipped, grinning from ear to ear.
Logan laughed and kissing her forehead, he said. "I love you, Veronica."
Six months later …
"Honey, I'm home." Veronica called out. Dropping her bag in the entryway, she made her way through the small bungalow on the beach, following the scent of … was it lasagna? Her stomach growled as she rounded the corner and stepped into the kitchen, just in time to see Logan take a large casserole dish out of the oven.
Glancing up, he set the dish on the counter before snaking one arm around her waist, pulling her close for a kiss. "Hey there," he said, after they broke apart. "Are you hungry?"
"Do you have to ask?"
Logan smiled, dipping his head to plant a quick kiss on her cheek. "Dinner will be ready by the time you finish washing up," he said, swatting her bottom with an oven mitt as she started towards their bedroom.
Veronica quickly shed her work clothes, exchanging them for shorts and one of Logan's old button-down shirts. She had just slipped off her watch, when she spotted something on the nightstand near her side of the bed. It was a small, black leather box. One she'd seen before.
Picking it up, Veronica flipped open the lid. With trembling fingers, she took out the simple platinum ring, twisting it in her fingers to admire the way the light glinted off the diamond solitaire.
"Before you freak out, just let me say that you can do whatever you want with that." Logan's hesitant voice made her start and she looked up to see him hovering in the doorway.
"The ring is yours. I bought it for you and it's just been sitting in my drawer all this time … I just thought you should have it. So, you can wear it or not wear it. Whatever you want to do, it's o.k. with me," he said.
Veronica didn't say anything for several seconds. Then, she slowly crossed the room holding the ring between her fingers.
"What if … I want to wear it?" she asked.
Logan searched her face then let out a long, relieved breath. With a grin, he plucked the ring from her grasp.
"Then I guess we should call your dad," he said, slipping it onto Veronica's finger.
Beaming, Veronica grasped Logan's shirt collar and kissed him.
"Later," she replied.