AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story is a collaboration and each chapter has been written by a different VM fic writer. The names of each author are included with the title of each chapter. Please note that this wedding takes place in my story universe between Homecomings & Deployment and Espionage.

Also, I would like to extend a big thank you to my fellow marshmallows and fic writers -Bryrosea, Darlinginmyway, Disdainfullady, Jeanie 205, Natasha0, and Scandalpants for hopping aboard this fic crazy train with me. They not only agreed to participate, but also to write within the confines of my story universe and what they've created is amazing! I am truly blessed to have been able to work with them on this project. It was a wonderful experience and I cannot thank them enough for lending me (and us) their time and talent to create this unique wedding story. Enjoy!

P.S. Unfortunately, this site doesn't allow images so if you want to check out this story on Archive of Our Own- there is a wedding album, too!


LOGAN by CaitlynMacKenzie

October 6, 2018

Chaos. On the outside he was calm, but inside he was having a hard time keeping it together. Today, I'm marrying Veronica Mars. He was… happy for sure —overjoyed, ecstatic even— but he was also nervous and terrified. She'd said yes when he proposed, participated in the wedding plans, bought a dress, agreed to the Maldives for their honeymoon, she was wearing his ring, and yet

He was still waiting for something to go wrong. Waiting for her to change her mind. To tell him that this was a mistake and she was leaving. Logan winced at the thought. He should be thankful the tabloids didn't know about the wedding because he could see that headline now- Veronica Mars: Runaway Bride. Happy stories were not written about Logan Echolls. He wanted to throw up, but instead he splashed some water on his face —ignoring the slight tremble of his fingers— and went to wake his bride.

Despite the bright California sun, their hotel room was still chilly and dark thanks to the blackout shades. Logan slipped beneath the covers of the king-sized bed and found Veronica in her burrow of blankets. Spooning their bodies together, he kissed her bare shoulder. "Time to get up," he whispered against her skin.

"Five more minutes." She nestled closer and it was almost enough to make Logan forget all the reasons why they were supposed to be getting out of bed. He lightly trailed his fingers down her side, tickling her flesh and she ineffectively swatted at his hand. "Cut it out," she mumbled into the pillow.

Sliding his hand over her hip, he caressed his way up her taut, flat stomach to gently cup her breast. He tweaked her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. "Better?"

In response, she rolled onto her stomach and away from his hand.

"This works too." Logan planted kisses along her spine letting his lips linger a little longer with each one. The coverlet shifted exposing her skin to the air conditioning and she shivered beneath his mouth.

"Logan." Her reproach was too husky for him to take as a serious request to stop. He sucked on the tiny dip in the small of her back while his hands stroked her thighs. Veronica scooted up the mattress out of his reach. Wrapping the blanket around her, she clicked on the bedside lamp. "Save something for the wedding night."

"Do you know" —he cradled her foot in his hands and lifted her leg— "That more than half of couples don't have sex on their wedding night?" Rising to his knees, he massaged her calf and rested her heel on his shoulder as his hands smoothed up her shapely thigh. "So we should probably play it safe and take care of it now."

"We've already taken care of it –twice." She pulled her leg down trapping his hand between her thighs.

He bit the inside of his mouth to keep from smiling. "Six months is a long time, Veronica."

"How long are you planning on using that excuse?"

"As long as it works." He waggled his eyebrows at her.

He'd been home from his last deployment for two weeks now, but with final wedding preparations and reconnecting with Wyatt, there hadn't been much time for him to be alone with Veronica. That lack of couple time was how he convinced her to spend last night in a swanky hotel on the beach.

Taking his hands, she laced their fingers together, and tugged him closer. It was all the invitation he needed. His mouth met hers in a tender kiss that quickly escalated in both heat and intensity. Logan disentangled their hands and wrapped his arms around her. He let himself fall onto the mattress, lifting Veronica, and positioning her on top of him.

She cupped his face between her palms; first deepening the kiss and then pulling back. "We are not going to be one of those couples."

"Huh?" His brow furrowed. "One of what couples?"

"Who skip the consummating, but" —she gave his lips a quick peck— "Right now, we have things to do. Other things," she tacked on before he could make some quip about how they were already doing something. "Mac insists that I have to do something girly today."

He smirked. "Are you sure that was Mac and not Wallace?"

"I'm totally going to tell him you said that." Veronica laid her head on his chest and sighed. "I would much rather stay here in bed with you."

Panic squeezed his chest and he grew still. "Our guests might be disappointed if we don't show for our own wedding." The teasing tone he was trying for failed miserably. Instead his words sounded tense and harsh. She lifted her head to see his face and he tried to soften the remark with a smile.

"I meant stay in bed as opposed to massages and manicures and makeup, oh my." With the pads of her fingers, she traced the outline of his jaw and smoothed over his lips. "You wouldn't mind a bride with bed head and chipped nail polish, right?"

"Sounds perfect" —he kissed her fingertips— "Just as long as she's you."

"Now that we've settled that, we can move on to more important things." She rolled off the mattress.

"Hey, I thought we were moving on to more important things?"

"We are." She grabbed the room service menu from the dresser and turned back toward the bed. "You're going to order me breakfast while I shower."

"You know, I don't mind a dirty bride either."

His suggestive tone made her stop well out of his reach. She chucked the menu on the pillow next to him. "But trust me, you don't want a hungry one."

"Yes ma'am."

Veronica rolled her eyes and pointed at the menu. Logan's eyes followed her as she crossed the room, giving him and the tangled sheets a wide berth. Hair tousled, lips slightly swollen, cheeks flushed, and a sexy, confident sway in her step- she was impossible to resist. He launched himself off the bed. Reading his mind, Veronica was ready- she feinted right, ducked, and then scrambled into the bathroom slamming the door behind her.

"Breakfast!" Her command was followed by the sound of the lock engaging.

Chuckling, Logan sprawled across the California-king on his back with his hands behind his head. He'd already ordered breakfast after the first time he woke her for a little morning consummation. The ceremony wasn't supposed to start until five-thirty —something about timing pictures for sunset— which meant a lazy and relaxing morning for them. Only he didn't feel all that relaxed.

When he was with her —could physically touch her— he was calmer. But even with the reassuring sound of the shower, he was starting to feel uneasy. An image of Veronica wrapped in the shower curtain and climbing out the bathroom window popped into his head. Her instincts made her want to run and his made him want to cling. Resisting the impulse to check on her, he got up, donned one of the hotel's bathrobes, and retrieved his suitcase from the closet.

Her wedding present was wrapped and folded into a pair of his jeans. Either he was getting better at surprising her or she was getting better at letting him think so. Even after enlisting Keith's help in tracking down the gift —his future father-in-law could keep a secret better than anyone— it still took him months to find. It was more personal than the bathroom remodel planned for while they were on their honeymoon and Logan was hoping Veronica would find the first edition sentimental and sweet instead of cloying and corny.

When room service arrived, they set breakfast out on the private balcony overlooking the ocean, and Logan put the present on her empty plate.

"Was that my breakfast?" Veronica emerged from the bathroom. She was also wearing one of the hotel bathrobes, but on her it brushed the floor and its sleeves covered her hands. "I'm starving. I don't know how I worked up such an appetite- must be the ocean air."

"Must be," Logan murmured in agreement. Tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, he kissed her forehead.

She rested her head on his arm and peered around his body. "Is that a present?"

"What great observational skills- maybe you should be a detective."

"And maybe you should hush up before you get yourself in trouble." Veronica gave him a light shove. "Go outside; I'll be there in a minute."

Today he was enlisting for a lifetime of taking orders from her and he couldn't wait. He saluted her with a wink, pivoted on his heel, and marched out to the balcony. Even the weather takes orders from Veronica Mars. It was a perfect 'getting married on the beach' day: mid-seventies, not too breezy, and sunny.

A minute was closer to ten and by the time she joined him she was dressed in a black tank top and a pair of cutoff denim shorts. She set a small box next to his plate. It was wrapped in navy blue paper with a silver bow. "For me?"

She smirked. "No, it's a tip for housekeeping." Sitting across from him, she lifted the metal cloche from a plate revealing Greek yogurt, granola, and a bowl of mixed fresh berries. "This better be yours."

"I thought brides were worried about fitting in their dress."

"Have we met? I'm Veronica Mars." She held out her hand for a beat and then removed the next two lids: brioche French toast with soft butter and warm syrup and a double order of bacon. "Now that's more like it."

Logan mixed the granola and berries into his yogurt and watched Veronica chew a piece of bacon while staring at her present. "It doesn't bite."

"So it's not a pony?" She deftly tore the wrapping, opened the gift box, and pushed back the tissue paper. "Oh, Logan" —she gingerly traced the ears of the rabbit on the yellowish tan dust jacket— "It's perfect." Raising her face, she gave him a dazzling smile.

You're perfect. Her mood now was entirely different from when they had first talked about The Velveteen Rabbit. She'd been having a minor fit, but it probably had more to do with the vows than the children's book.

XXXX

"I don't want to write our own vows." Hysterical was a word he'd never use to describe her, but clearly the idea of talking about her feelings in front of witnesses had her rattled. She could face down a killer with a gun, but utter the word vows and she was a mess.

Logan smiled. "Veronica Mars, traditionalist?" He arched a skeptical eyebrow. "I didn't figure you for the love, honor and obey—"

She scowled at him. "It's cherish, not obey."

Placing his hands on her hips, he pulled her closer. "We could add 'in bed' to the end of every line like we're reading a Chinese fortune cookie. I Logan Echolls take you Veronica Mars, in bed."

Playing along, she batted her eyes at him. "For better or" —a wide-eyed innocent expression— "Worst in bed."

"Well, obviously that doesn't work… and I believe it's worse."

"Worse, worst." She shrugged as a slight smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "Does it make a difference?"

"No, and it doesn't matter because I've already written my vows."

"Shut up, no you haven't." She took a step back. At his serious expression, she held out her hand. "Let me see them."

"You'll hear them at our wedding." It was a mild protest because he knew if she wanted to see them, he would show them to her. Instead of delaying the inevitable, he pulled out his wallet, removed a sheet of paper and handed it to her.

It didn't take her long to read the five lines. "Plagiarizing Margery Williams is not writing your own vows."

"Technically, it would be paraphrasing by the time I was done." He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "You loving me makes me real. It didn't happen all at once and sometimes it was painful, but I'm a better Logan Echolls because of you. To be here with you today, knowing that what we have is real—"

Veronica pressed her fingertips to his lips to silence him. She took another step back and carefully ripped the sheet of paper in two. Retaining the top half for herself, she handed him the bottom part. "Now we both have vows."

"So no paraphrasing?"

She shook her head. "We'll know what it means."

Logan glanced at his torn half. The words she kept for herself were, 'real isn't how you are made; it's a thing that happens to you. When someone loves you for a long time, really loves you, then you become real.' And she'd left him with, 'it doesn't happen all at once...it takes a long time, but once you are real...it lasts for always.'

XXXX

"Logan?" She was standing next to his chair. "I abandoned my bacon to come over here and give you a proper thank you, but"—she shrugged— "If you don't want one…" Taking a step back, she turned to walk away and he grabbed her hand tugging her onto his lap.

She cradled his face between her palms and kissed just the corner of his mouth. It was the exact same spot she'd kissed him the very first time. Logan smiled. "I think I remember what comes next."

Placing one hand on the small of her back, he pulled her closer and let his fingers just graze the top of her ass as his mouth covered hers. An entire lifetime existed between that kiss and this one and yet he still felt that same thrill. He reluctantly ended the kiss before it led them back to bed, but he didn't want to let her go. Pushing his plate out of the way, he reached across the table for hers and put it down in front of them.

Veronica eyed her French toast and then his discarded plate. "This brioche ain't big enough fer the two of us."

Her Yosemite Sam impression made him groan, but he played along. "It ain't?"

"No it ain't."

Logan kissed her shoulder. "Then you eat it and I'll open my present."

After dousing the toast with an obscene amount of butter and syrup, she tucked into her food while casting sidelong glances in his direction. Logan took his time opening the small box; he carefully removed the ribbon and the wrapping paper and then he put it down to eat some of his yogurt. The wait was driving her crazy. Dropping her fork, she made a grab for the box and Logan blocked her hand with a 'tsk, tsk.' She rolled her eyes.

He picked up the black velvet jeweler's box and flipped open its hinged lid. A pair of round silver cufflinks rested inside. Their initials were engraved in the center of one and the other had their wedding date. Along the edge of each link were latitude and longitude coordinates. "It's the location of the beach."

The site of their ceremony. Logan stroked his fingers down the curve of her cheek. Sometimes she worried that she didn't say the words enough, but he never doubted that she loved him. It was there in her expressive eyes and in the way she touched him and in that soft smile reserved only for him. And it was here in this box in the shape of a pair of cufflinks.

"I thought you could wear them today."

"They're not regulation," he teased. "But I think I can make an exception." His eyes locked with hers. "I love them… I love you, Veronica."

She smiled and fed him a bite of her French toast.

A loud knock at the room door made him arch an eyebrow.

"Mac," she answered his silent question. "This luxury resort you insisted upon has a sea stone massage and a spa mani-pedi." She grinned. "Did that sound girly enough?"

"How would I know?"

"You are the expert on girly." She shoved another piece of French toast in her mouth, grabbed a slice of bacon, and went to get the door.

"That's true. Maybe I should come with you?" Logan followed her while inspecting his hands. "I could definitely use a manicure."

Her back was to him, but he could hear the eye roll. Veronica answered the door, allowing Mac into the room. "I just need five minutes."

Mac looked around and emitted a low whistle. "Fancy digs. I don't blame you for eschewing the bad luck to see the bride tradition in order to stay here."

"I'll have you know," Logan intoned. "That it had nothing to do with the suite and everything to do with me."

It was Mac's turn to roll her eyes. "You keep telling yourself that buddy and maybe one day it will be true."

He humphed. "Now you sound like my wife... my better half… the old ball—"

Veronica hip checked him to shut him up. "Not yet."

"I was practicing."

Standing on her tiptoes, she kissed his jaw. "Have fun with the boys."

XXXX

He was not having fun with the boys. Well, he had been at first, but not now.

Dick picked him up at the resort with boards in the back of his jeep. August to November was San Diego's best surf and —even though they missed the early morning session— it was good to be back in the water. Logan was sure there was some kind of irony to that. Six months out at sea, but away from the ocean. The south swells combined with the Santa Ana winds and gave them a few beautiful rides. It was exactly what he needed to stop worrying about Veronica.

He kept trying to remind himself that she was the one who wanted to get married. Granted, when she first brought it up she was riding her own wave of pregnancy hormones, but that was two years ago- plenty of time to change her mind and she hadn't.

In a lot of ways she was the same Veronica she'd always been. Brilliant, funny, and fiercely independent with an insatiable curiosity, a strong sense of justice, and she wasn't afraid to speak her mind- sometimes with a very a wicked tongue. But she was also different. She—

"Will you stop mooning over Veronica?" The good-natured complaint came from Dick.

"Aw, leave him alone; he's allowed to act like a lovesick teenager on his wedding day." Jake jumped to Logan's defense and Wallace shook his head.

"What's his excuse all the other days?"

Weevil chimed in with: "Boy's got it bad."

This was why he was not having fun with the boys- the constant ribbing.

When he and Dick had finished surfing, they'd gone back to the hotel to shower and then they'd met Jake, Wallace, and Weevil at a cigar lounge for lunch. The lounge sported a six hundred square foot walk-in humidor, cigars hand-rolled on the premises —beers on tap from around the world for the guys and an espresso machine for him— plus a catered lunch in the private room. It was great until the first round and the first Cubans came with a side of stories.

Weevil started with the smashing headlights, embellishing the story until Veronica's car and Logan both were totaled – the car with the crowbar and Logan with Weevil's fists. Wallace trotted out the "foreplay" comment and it was downhill ever since. Dick brought up the days of not showering and moping in bed after their —"Was it your fourth breakup or your fifth?" — and how he had to lock Logan out on the balcony for housekeeping to clean. Even Jake decided to share a few 'Logan pining for Veronica' stories from the early days at OCS and from during this last cruise.

"Lighten up, Mouth; you finally got the girl," Jake said as they were leaving the lounge and headed to their next stop- a hot towel shave at an exclusive men's salon.

He echoed Veronica's words from earlier, "Not yet."

Keith was joining them at the salon after dropping Wyatt off with Veronica and Mac at the hotel. Logan sincerely hoped his 'friends' were done reminiscing about his past with Veronica. The last thing he needed was to remind Keith of all the reasons he had to disapprove of his daughter's choice in husbands.

Weevil blocked their path. His discomfort was apparent in the way he didn't quite meet Logan's eyes and the stiff set of his shoulders. Jake nodded toward the door and moved a few paces away to give them a moment of privacy, but it didn't help relax Weevil; if possible, he seemed more stressed. Did something happen with Jade? Weevil's real purpose soon became apparent and Logan tried a new tack —using the new Mrs. Echolls— to resolve the issue once and for all.

"She's letting you call her that?"

"Not a chance. So don't tell her, okay?" Weevil started to walk away and Logan asked: "Is Jade coming to the wedding?"

"Uh, I don't know."

They'd spent a lot of time talking about his marriage to Jade with Weevil doing most of the talking and Logan just being there to listen. He, better than anyone, knew what it was like to have your past come back to bite you, and he was hoping things would work out for Weevil. He watched the other man leave and then joined Jake at the door.

Dick was waiting for them in the parking lot, texting on his phone. The three of them moved down the row of cars and Jake stopped next to a Dodge Caravan. Dick smirked and knocked on the hood. "Sweet ride," he mocked. "Bet the ladies love your minivan."

"Not as much as they love my uniform, but I get no complaints about the size of my van." Jake used the key fob to open the automatic sliding door. "I was voluntold to pick up Logan's sister at the airport and I needed this thing —three trunks, two suitcases, a makeup case, and a carryon— and she said she was traveling light."

Trina was coming back from the Toronto Film Festival by way of a two-week shopping spree in New York so Logan was surprised she didn't have more. "Did you manage to keep her away from Veronica?"

"You were right- that's the first place she wanted to go." Jake finished putting up the stow-and-go seating in the now empty minivan.

"I told you to bring something shiny as a distraction." His sister had no filter. Making Veronica spend the hours leading up to the wedding in Trina's presence would be cruel and unusual punishment.

"Nothing shiny, just adorable." Jake shrugged. "I used Wyatt as a lure and dropped Trina off with Keith and my mom."

Logan groaned. Leaving his tactless sister with Keith was almost as bad as taking her to Veronica.

"Chill, dude." Dick clapped him on the back. "Ronnie's supposed to be the control-freak, remember?" He nodded toward the minivan. "Ride over with the soccer mom" —Jake flipped him the finger and Dick grinned— "I've got to swing by the restaurant and check on things. I'll meet you there."

Nodding, Logan climbed into the passenger seat. Weevil wasn't joining them —he needed to pick up Valentina from Jade's house— and Wallace was going to get Keith so he and Dottie would only have one car at the reception.

Jake started the car. "Judging by today, you wouldn't know we call you Mouth for a reason. Is everything okay?"

"You got them to call me Mouth because you're a dick- not because I talk too much, C-Town." Logan emphasized Jake's own call sign with a hint of warning, which he ignored.

"It's a great story." Jake grinned. "I was planning to tell it at the reception as a wedding present for Veronica; she keeps asking for the details."

"Let her keep asking." Veronica. Logan dug out his cell phone- no missed calls or texts. His thumb hovered over the 'messages' icon as he debated whether to send her a text or not.

"You're afraid she's not going to show?"

"It's been known to happen," he mumbled more to himself than Jake. Logan put away his phone. He was being a jackass. They had a life together now —a home and a family— there was no way she would leave him waiting at the altar. It was time for a subject change. "Bringing Becky to the wedding?"

"Becca and… are you crazy? I don't need mom getting any ideas."

Logan chuckled. "You mean more ideas. She has you pegged as the first one to give her a daughter-in-law and a grandchild."

He shook his head. "You've already taken the hit for me, brother."

Brother. It was the same way Logan felt- that they were brothers. Not just because they served together, but for everything else, and he was definitely going to miss flying with him. "You know—"

"Don't go getting all weepy and misty-eyed on me, Mouth."

"—that makes Trina your sister too." Logan finished his sentence with a smirk.

Thumping his chest with a fist, Jake groaned. "Right to the heart."

He slowed the car as they approached their destination. Designed to look like an old-time barber shop, the exclusive men's salon was straight from a 1940's Hollywood set. Its storefront was a dark, rich walnut with a paned glass window and an antique barber pole. The name of the shop, Mug & Brush, was in neat gold lettering above the window.

A Hollywood movie set or from the pages of a classic novel…Veronica. Logan cast a suspicious glance at Jake. "Whose idea was this?"

Shaking his head, he parked the car. "We were all silenced under the penalty of a wicked looking stun gun." He climbed from the minivan. "The military could use her- she's very frightening when she wants to be."

That's my girl. Logan grinned. "Did she plan the entire day?"

"We had our orders- surfing, cigars, and a shave."

He followed Jake inside. A gold bell above the door trilled as they entered. Wide-plank hardwood floors complemented the marble-topped wood counters and the beamed ceiling. The left and far walls were exposed brick and the right wall was covered in white subway tile in order to lighten the space. Six barber chairs elaborately carved from oak and walnut and fitted with fine leather upholstery were stationed in front of wide mirrors down either side of the long room.

A receptionist greeted them with: "Mr. Echolls?" Logan stepped forward. "Reservation for five?"

"They're on their way."

"Do you want to start without them or wait?"

"We can wait."

She showed them to the back of the shop and two black leather wingback chairs with nailheads. Once they were seated she made them each an espresso. Logan doubted the wisdom of another cup of coffee, but drank it anyway and declined the offer of a second one.

Keith and Wallace arrived. His future father-in-law seemed in high spirits even after a morning spent with Trina, which was a good sign. "How did things go with Wyatt last night?"

He and Veronica were a little worried about leaving her for a sleepover with Grandpa. Since he'd been home, the baby had been glued to Logan's side to the point of wanting to sleep in between him and Veronica every night.

"We made a fort in the living room and read stories by flashlight." Keith stretched his back and winced. "Sleeping on the floor was not ideal." Logan opened his mouth and Keith shut him down. "And not one word from you about my age."

"Yes, sir."

"Sir- I think I could get used to that."

Before Logan could reply, Dick strolled in. "Let's get this party started."

It was very relaxing. The hot towel wrapped around his face, the warm pre-shave oil massaged into his skin, and the hot shaving cream. As the groom, he was treated to an aftershave mud mask applied to his entire face with a brush and removed with gentle strokes of a disk sponge. The barber completed the shave with a cold-water, lavender scented towel wrapped around his face for a few seconds and then an aftershave balm.

When he was done, Keith and Wallace were still in their barber chairs and Jake was busy flirting with the receptionist. Dick was sprawled in one of the wingback leather chairs, drinking a cappuccino, and staring at a sheet of paper. Logan kicked his foot. "I've never seen you study something that intently unless it was porn or the new Victoria's Secret catalog."

"I'm memorizing my toast."

"For the wedding," Logan choked. "Uh, we're not really doing the traditional stuff so you don't need—"

"Don't worry, dude; I've got this."

Veronica is going to kill me… or him… or both of us. "Let me see it." Logan held out his hand for the sheet of square paper. It wasn't a request. Dick could not be allowed to give an unauthorized speech.

With a grin, he crumpled the piece of paper and shoved it in his mouth; chewing it until it was a mangled wad of pulp and saliva. He spit it into his palm and offered it to Logan.

"Very classy, Dick."

"That's me- a touch of class."

"You're touched all right." Logan tapped his head. "And you're an ass."

Dick dumped the massive spitball into the trashcan. "Mac said it was okay."

"That doesn't make me feel better; her taste is questionable- she thinks you're okay too." Logan pulled out his wallet to tip the barbers and Dick frowned at him.

"Put that away; I took care of it."

Wallace had joined Jake at the front of the shop and he was on his cell. "The what now?" A lot of head nods. ""No problem," he said. "Tell Veronica not to worry. Wallace Fennel is on the case." Hanging up, he glanced at Logan and Dick. "What's a pomander?"

Logan shrugged.

"It's a ball of flowers with a loop of ribbon so you can carry it like a purse or wear it on your wrist." At Dick's explanation, all the guys stared at him. "Dudes, I go to a lot of weddings."

Wallace shook his head. "Well, the florist forgot it and I've got to go pick it up."

As they started from the shop, the receptionist put a staying hand on Logan's arm. "Mr. Echolls? Your wife left this for you."

"My what?" Logan had heard her perfectly fine the first time, but he wanted her to say the words again.

"Uh." The receptionist cast a pleading look in Jake's direction, afraid she'd made a mistake and waited for him to rescue her. When he didn't, she repeated, "Your wife?"

My wife. Logan smiled and took the offered note. It was an embossed card the color of sea glass and on it Veronica had written: Let's go storm the beach together, flyboy.

XXXX

He'd stormed the beach, now he was just waiting for the together part.

It was quiet except for the sound of the ocean and the chatter of their guests. Aside from the usual suspects, they'd invited guys from his squad, Veronica's roommates from Stanford, and two friends of hers from law school. He'd met them briefly when he went to investigate the small tote bags Dottie was passing out to the guests. They looked suspiciously like a favor and Veronica was very firm on that subject: "Ech, favors- absolutely not." And she would definitely not like cheesy, beach-themed ones.

"They aren't favors; they're flip-flops" —was how Dottie defended her actions before snatching the bag away from him— "They're practical like Veronica."

"Okaay, but they better not have Logan and Veronica written anywhere on them or I'm not going to be responsible for what happens."

Unconcerned, she'd dismissed him with a wave of her hand.

Some of the guests were utilizing the flip-flops including Biscuit who looked ridiculous wearing them with his dress blues. The squad had already taken several pictures of him and the teasing was merciless —'did you go for a pedicure with the bride, pretty feet?' Logan shook his head. Flaky Biscuit was never going to live this down.

Dick had set up the chairs and the aisle runner closer to the restaurant than the surf. It made for a shorter walk for Wyatt and Veronica and it allowed the musicians access to electricity. Despite Veronica's protests —a radio in the sand, that's beachy, right? —they'd hired a guitar player and a pianist, who also sang, for their ceremony music.

The start of the music was his cue and he took his place at the end of the aisle with the judge. We're really doing this. Four breakups, nine years of radio silence, and nineteen years, and we're getting married.

Mac stepped out of the restaurant carrying a pink-clad Wyatt. She put the baby down and Wy immediately ran back inside. Turning to the guests, Mac offered a slight shrug of apology. A murmur of laughter floated through the air. Before she could reach the restaurant for another attempt, Wy appeared in the doorway carrying her stuffed bunny. The presence of Cuddles elicited a chorus of 'aww' from a few of the women and all of Logan's Navy buddies.

Holding her hand, Mac walked her to the end of the aisle, and leaned over to whisper in her ear. Wyatt chewed on the end of her finger and nodded, but her eyes grew wide and she looked terrified when Mac let go of her hand to sit down. Taking a few hesitant steps, she clutched her bunny; the small pomander dangling from her wrist. Her head moved back and forth staring at all the people watching her.

Logan stepped to the side so she could see him and she smiled. "Daddeeee!" There was no more walking for her; she flew down the aisle and threw herself at him. He scooped her up and kissed her nose.

"Good job, Jellybean." Wyatt laid her head on his chest and played with the buttons on his uniform. "Do you want to go sit with Nana Dot?" Burying her face in his lapel, she vehemently shook her head.

The instrumental version of John Legend's All of Me faded and ended and there was a brief pause before the piano started to play. Logan smiled. There was no traditional Wagner's Bridal Chorus for Veronica. Instead, she'd asked Keith to choose a song.

'I'll take this slow sweet walk with you;

You'll let go of my hand to say I do'

In a pale gray, vested suit and navy tie, Keith preceded Veronica from the restaurant and waited for her to join him. Logan tensed—

'And he will discover just how blessed a life can be,

I know because all those years ago someone handed you to me.'

—And then there she was slipping her hand into the crook of Keith's arm. Beautiful.

All the worry and tension evaporated and Logan knew he was grinning like an idiot. His eyes were restless; they roamed over her, memorizing each detail. The simple strapless dress that swirled around her as she walked, the nosegay bouquet of blush and cream mini calla lilies, and the golden waves of her hair cascading over her shoulders joined all his other memories of her. With each step closer, he remembered all the other versions of his Veronica: the tomboy in the soccer uniform, the long-haired pink princess who tolerated his teasing, his bong-planting nemesis, girlfriend, lover, the mother of his child, and today, his wife.

Veronica met his eyes and smiled.

'I'll take this slow, sweet walk with you.'

When they reached the end of the aisle, Keith hugged Veronica and she stood on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "Who's your daddy?" It was soft enough for only the three of them to hear.

"You are." Her eyes were glistening.

Keith gave her another squeeze —"I love you, kiddo"— and then turned his watery gaze to Logan. Squeezing his shoulder, Keith shook his hand and then held out his arms for Wyatt. She hesitated and then went with her grandfather.

Veronica stepped closer to Logan and gave him that little half smile of hers and his awareness narrowed only to the woman in front of him. "Ready?" She asked as she smoothed the rumpled lapel of his uniform.

"Since our first kiss."

"Sweet talker," she crooned.

Of their own accord, their bodies drew closer until there was almost no space between them. Logan brushed her cheek with the tips of his fingers. Then let them fall to her shoulder, lightly graze her arm, and finally twine with hers.

"We are gathered here today to witness and celebrate the marriage of Logan Echolls and Veronica Mars."

The judge's words —all good stories at their heart are love stories. The love between friends, the unconditional love between a parent and child, unrequited love, lost love, romantic love. We try to define it, to explain the extraordinary feeling of being in love, but it defies us. Mere words aren't enough, but we all know love when we see it and today we are lucky enough to see it between Logan and Veronica— washed over him.

Logan was too busy concentrating on the feel of Veronica's hand and the rhythm of her thumb as it softly stroked his. Too busy memorizing the tilt of her head and the quick smirk at something the judge said that was probably too sentimental and mushy for her. Closing his eyes, he bent his head to her hair and inhaled the scent of her perfume.

"Will you, Logan Echolls, take Veronica to be your partner from this day forward? To always put her first, to support and believe in her, and to love her unconditionally for the rest of your life?"

"I will."

The judge turned to Veronica and repeated the question. She gave Logan's hand a gentle squeeze. "I will."

Logan brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingers.

"Real isn't how you are made; it's a thing that happens to you. When someone loves you for a long time, really loves you, then you become real." Veronica recited her half of the story and then he recited his.

"It doesn't happen all at once; it takes a long time, but once you are real, it lasts for always."

It was time for the rings. Logan slipped the platinum band on her finger and stared at it for a moment. The words and the vows and the promises would all fade, but this was tangible. He would forever be able to see the rings on their fingers and know that they were committed to each other. That today she'd agreed to be his wife. It was as constant as his love for her.

"With this ring I take you to be my husband, my friend, my partner and my love for the rest of this lifetime and whatever comes next." Veronica put the ring on his finger and grinned.

Logan didn't wait for permission. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her off her feet, and kissed her. He was dimly aware of her bouquet landing on his foot as she cradled his head between her palms. The applause and the catcalls and a wolf-whistle from Dick finally made him pull back with a sheepish grin.

Veronica grabbed his hand and they rushed down the aisle amidst a shower of mini beach balls from the guests. Logan batted one away as they ducked inside the restaurant. Once the door closed behind them, she turned to him with a multi-colored beach ball resting in her palm. "Dottie?"

"Probably. Should I have her drawn and quartered?" He snaked his arm around her waist and jerked her to him. "It can be my first official act as your husband."

Now that they were alone, Veronica pulled his mouth down to hers to finish the kiss that had been so rudely interrupted. Seconds bled into minutes and neither of them was in a rush to let the other go. Logan kissed the corners of her mouth; his hands skimming over the silk of her dress, drawing her tighter to him. "Mmm" —she broke the kiss and blinked— "Uh… maybe we can tar and feather her after the photos."

XXXX

After the photos was an interminable amount of time later.

Logan didn't really see the reason for hundreds of pictures; they were all different variations on the same theme. What he wanted was to be alone with his wife —Veronica's my wife—and they still had an entire reception to get through. "Are you sure they can't just celebrate without us?"

"I'm the one who wanted to go to the courthouse; you're the one that wanted all this- so suck it up, Echolls."

"Okay… Mrs. Echolls."

She shook her head. "Never gonna happen."

"I think it already did." Logan smiled. He couldn't stop smiling. Taking her hand, they trudged through the sand back toward the restaurant. The best part of the 'wedding photoshoot' was having Veronica by his side and finding new ways to touch her in each picture. Now they would spend the next few hours surrounded by their close friends and relatives and he was going to have to share her. "In fact, I think Nick is about to introduce us as Mr. and Mrs. Echolls."

"He better not," she warned, but her smile softened the threat.

Nick, Dottie's son, was acting as their unofficial DJ. Unofficial because Veronica was very specific about the song list —no Celebration by Kool & the Gang and no We are Family by Sister Sledge. The Macarena, electric slide, and chicken dance were also forbidden. "You know, for someone who didn't want an actual wedding-wedding, you're very bossy."

"And this is news to you?"

Logan kissed the top of her head. No, not news; she was bossy with a touch of denial.

Getting married at the courthouse was her idea, but his wasn't an elaborate wedding, it was eloping in Costa Rica. At least it was until he remembered that wedding planning book she'd pulled open at the Sunset Regent hotel when they were looking for his mother. He'd thought it was all part of her engaged-couple-ruse, but some of the clippings were too old to have been hastily added to that photo album. No, the soft, romantic part of Veronica —the one she kept hidden— wanted a wedding.

There were two sets of doors on the side of the restaurant. The one furthest from the beach allowed entry to the private dining area where the cocktail hour was set up and the one closest to the beach opened into the main room where the reception was being held. Logan held open the door with his foot and scooped Veronica up in his arms.

"What are you doing?"

"Carrying you over the threshold," he stated like it was obvious.

"That's to our house; not the reception."

Logan shrugged. "I need to make sure you don't turn and run when you hear Mrs. Echolls."

"I'm not going anywhere" —she fingered the hair at the nape of his neck and then gave it a gentle tug— "Idiot."

"Is this where we come up with affectionate nicknames for each other, snookums?"

She rolled her eyes. "Call me that again and we're getting an annul—"

He swallowed the word with a kiss and carried her into the restaurant.

Nick avoided Veronica's wrath by using Wyatt to introduce them. Kneeling on the floor next to her, he announced: "Now appearing for the first time as husband and wife…"

Then he asked Wyatt who was coming in the door and held the microphone for her response: "Mama! Daddy!"

Her amplified voice startled her and she whirled around toward the speaker completely forgetting about her parents. Squatting in front of it, Wyatt poked the speaker and then pressed her ear against it.

Veronica laughed as Dick tried coaxing her away and Wyatt kept pointing at the speaker: "Make tawk." Finally, Mac hurried over, shook her head at Dick's ineptitude and picked up the baby moving her back before the music could start.

More mini beach balls were scattered across the empty dance floor. Logan kicked them out of his way as he moved to the center and set Veronica on her feet to the opening strains of After All.

'Well, here we are again; I guess it must be fate.

We've tried it on our own, but deep inside we've known

We'd be back to set things straight.'

Logan placed his hand on the small of her back and drew her closer as they started to sway to the ballad. Our first dance as husband and wife. "I love you, Veronica."

Tilting her head back, she smiled at him. "I love you too."

'Every memory repeats; every step I take retreats;

Every journey always brings me back to you.'

He tightened his hold and brought their joined hands to his mouth to kiss her fingers. "Have I mentioned how beautiful you look today?"

"Just today?"

"Have you seen you in the mornings?"

She playfully scowled at him and he laughed. "Okay, you're beautiful always, but today you're exceptional- breathtaking even."

"For someone who's short on breath, you're still doing a lot of yakking." She removed her arm from his waist and flapped her fingers and thumb together in the 'blah-blah' hand gesture.

'And after all that we've been through,

It all comes down to me and you.

I guess it's meant to be- forever you and me, After all.'

Veronica rested her head on his chest and tucked their joined hands between their bodies. He wanted to stay wrapped up in Veronica for the duration. We should have picked a longer song. It didn't need to make sense or have any special meaning; it only needed to last.

The song ended, but Logan kept his arm around her. "I don't want to let you go."

"Don't worry" —she patted his cheek— "after a week of just you and me and the Indian Ocean, you'll be singing a different tune."

"Doubtful." He released her and Veronica grabbed his hand for the walk to their table.

The restaurant was a mix of round six-tops and square four-tops. They were sitting by themselves at a table for four near the windows overlooking the beach. Veronica didn't want formal seating arrangements —seriously, I'm not coming up with a seating chart— but Dick and Dottie insisted it would be easier for serving the main course. There were several emails received on his deployment that ended with lines like: Dick is going to have to sit outside by himself and can I put my friends from law school near your rowdy pilot buddies?

A strawberry and arugula salad with goat cheese and toasted walnuts was already waiting for them at their table and a printed menu card rested next to the plate. He arched an eyebrow. "Six courses and mignardises?"

A one-shouldered shrug. "It's Dick's restaurant."

Logan shook his head. Planning the food would not have escaped Veronica's attention. "If you say so," he murmured. "You know, there's this wedding tradition wherein every time someone taps their glass with a spoon" —he toyed with his cutlery— "The bride and groom have to kiss."

"First person who does it gets a spoon up their nose and my foot up—"

She was interrupted by Nick introducing Keith for his father of the bride welcome speech and toast. "Thank you all for coming here tonight to celebrate the marriage of Veronica and Logan and the start of their life together."

Without Grandpa at the table to corral Wyatt, she was out of her seat and on her way to Logan before Keith was done with his opening sentence. Logan picked her up and sat her on his lap. "Hey, Jellybean- what do you have?"

"Ball." She held up one of the mini beach balls before tossing it to the floor. Sliding off his leg, she went to pick it up and then climbed back on Logan's lap only to do it again. He glanced at Dottie who had the courtesy to look thoroughly abashed by her poorly-conceived beach ball plan.

Logan did his best to keep Wyatt entertained and quiet while trying to feed her some of the strawberries from his salad and listen to Keith's toast. He was mostly successful —she'd given up the ball in lieu of fruit— but he hadn't eaten anything and the waiters were already bringing out the soup. Across the table, his wife's plate was empty; nary a walnut to be found. He was tempted to send Wyatt to sit on Mommy's lap, but roasted red bell pepper soup would not look good on her wedding dress.

A smattering of applause and Keith was turning over the microphone to Dick. Veronica's head swiveled in Logan's direction and she leveled him with a killer glare and a scowl. "I tried to stop him, but Mac approved his speech."

"I'll take care of her later," Veronica muttered.

Logan would have to catch Keith's toast on the videotape, but he paid close attention to Dick; he needed to know what he would be apologizing for later.

"Logan dude, thanks for asking me to be your best man—"

"I didn't!" Logan cut in and the crowd laughed.

He resumed his toast and it wasn't too bad- for Dick. A few off-color jokes that were a hit at the tables with Logan's 'rowdy pilot buddies,' he mentioned the numerous breakups of the bride and groom without being mean and warned them to "not screw it up" and then hit a sweet note by calling the bride beautiful.

When he raised his glass of champagne, Logan breathed a sigh of relief; he'd made it through relatively unscathed, but then Dick kept talking. From the look on Mac's face, Logan gathered this was not part of the approved speech. This is what I'll be apologizing for later.

Mac scrambled from her chair and wrested the microphone away from Dick, but the damage was already done. "It's hard to think how I could possibly follow up on that toast from Mr. Casablancas," she began, "But I'm sure gonna try hard."

Wyatt was using a Grissini breadstick as a spoon; first dipping it in his soup and then gnawing at the end of the stick. Each swipe through the bowl got a little wider and a lot messier.

"Now, Logan…"

The use of his name diverted his attention from the potential soup disaster and caused him to focus on Mac's speech. Covering his face with his hand, he groaned. After Dick's toast, he'd been counting on her to leave him alone. Fat chance. "Mac, you're killing me here."

A splash of soup on his fingers said Wyatt was done eating her food and was now playing with it. He pried the soggy bread from Wy's fingers, quickly handed her Veronica's untouched breadstick, and pushed his bowl out of reach. She tried climbing across the table in order to reach the soup and Logan plopped her back on his lap.

"And now they have Wyatt…"

At her name, the baby popped the breadstick from her mouth. "Hi Aun'ie Mac!" She waved and slid off Logan's lap clearly thinking the use of her name was an invitation to join Aunt Mac near the magical speakers. Thankfully, they were at the end of the toast and the music resumed before she could run away.

Logan stood. "Let's go visit Grandpa and Nana Dot."

"Wait, I'll come with you." Veronica's spoon clanked against her empty bowl and Logan gave her a wolfish grin. A perplexed frown wrinkled her brow as her gaze moved from him, down to the table, and back. "That doesn't count; it wasn't a glass."

"Close enough." Bending his head, his lips grazed hers.

"You're going to give people ideas."

"The idea that I love you? That's pretty obvious, dontcha think?" Another quick peck on her mouth and he draped his arm around her waist, his hand resting low on her back and his fingers brushing the curve of her ass.

There weren't many tables in the restaurant —ten total, including his and Veronica's— Dick had removed the rest in order to make space for a dance floor so it wouldn't take them long to stop by each. They started at Keith's table with the plan of leaving Wyatt with her grandfather.

Cliff stood. "You crazy kids went and got married." He hugged Veronica and clapped Logan on the back. "Which one of you needs my card?" His eyes roamed over the reception. "What? Is now not a good time for divorce jokes?"

Logan inclined his head toward Veronica. "She can handle her own divorce, but me? I've already got you on speed dial."

"Uh, sorry kid, there's no way I'd go up against Veronica in any court."

"So I should probably just give her all of my money now- is that what you're saying?"

The other man shrugged. "That's the best counsel I could offer- free of charge."

"That was the fastest case I've ever won," Veronica deadpanned.

Keith countered with, "The only case."

Not wanting the conversation to veer toward the serious side of his wife not practicing law, Logan wrangled Wyatt and put her in the recently acquired high chair. He kissed the top of her head. "You stay here with Grandpa and Nana Dot; we'll be right back."

Veronica already met most of the guys from his squad —dropping him off at base for deployment— and she impressed them with her ability to remember all their names. "You deserve a good husband Veronica." Route smirked. "Lucky for Mouth he married you before you could find one."

Leaning her hip against his chair, Veronica gave him a winning smile and draped her arm around his neck. "Route, huh? How'd you get that call sign?"

Logan recognized the gleam in his wife's eyes. Uh-oh Veronica Mars is in detective mode. Route launched into his story about his first solo flight out of NAS Kingsville in a T-45 Goshawk. "When the instrument panel goes dead and I realize I'm fucked; I have no idea how to get back."

Her eyes widened and she leaned in closer, giving the impression that she was totally captivated by his story. Not realizing the trap she'd set, Route hammed it up for her. "When suddenly the sky clears and Route 77 appears beneath me like a sign from heaven."

"Did you land on the road?" Logan rolled his eyes at both Veronica's breathy delivery of the question and Route's over-the-top theatrics.

"No ma'am, I couldn't endanger all those people's lives."

Logan smirked. A real American hero. Route explained how he locked onto the wide interstate and followed the life-saving concrete stretch of road back to the safety of base. "The duty officer was impressed and I've been Route ever since."

"Wow, that's amazing. I bet the story behind Logan's call sign isn't half as interesting?" She waited expectantly and Route opened his mouth to comply with her unspoken request.

"Uh, Veronica?" She frowned at Logan's interruption. "We need to move this along, they're taking dinner orders." Taking her hand, he gave it a gentle tug; she pouted at him, but let him lead her away from the table.

"You know I'm going to find out, right?"

"Maybe one day, but not today." He jerked his chin toward the table with her law school friends and her Stanford roommate, Tracey. "What embarrassing Veronica stories do they have to tell me?"

"There are none."

"Hmm… we'll see."

"Please… like you could get them to divulge their secrets. While I, on the other hand, was this close" —she held up her thumb and forefinger with a sliver of space between— "To getting Route to spill all your secrets; he was on the hook and I was just reeling him in."

"Really? My clever wife has resorted to using fishing analogies? Is marriage dulling your wit already?"

"If I had any wit, I wouldn't have married you."

They briefly stopped at the table with her friends and then headed back to their own. The wait staff was clearing their untouched carnaroli risotto with truffles and parmesan and Veronica stopped them. "My husband hasn't eaten anything yet."

The waitress returned the plate and asked for their main course selections. He chose the filet mignon with bordelaise sauce and Veronica requested the same plus the chicken paillard with pancetta and sage and the tilapia with the cilantro walnut pesto. She shrugged. "I want to taste them all."

"Just taste?"

"Taste, eat – same thing."

He chuckled. "I love you, Veronica Mars."

Pausing with her fork in midair, she tapped it on the side of her water glass, puckered her lips, and leaned over the table. Logan met her halfway and kissed her adding a loud, lip-smacking sound effect that turned some heads. "You're a jerk," she said it with a laugh.

"Thanks, honeybunch?" She shook her head. "Doll face?"

"Eat," Veronica pointed at his plate.

"Okay, Bobcat."

They ate their risotto and then resumed their table visits while dinner was being served. Trina was out on the dance floor with Dottie's son, Patrick, and Nick was busy with the music, leaving his girlfriend alone at the table. Logan asked her to dance while Veronica took Dick's empty seat next to Mac at the Mackenzie's table. His wife's first words to her friend were: "Approved Dick's toast, huh?" And Logan danced Melanie away from the fallout.

When the song ended, Veronica met him on the edge of the dance floor and they stopped at the last two tables. Logan had hung out with Darrell at Wallace's apartment, but he'd never met Alicia Fennel —Alicia Jameson— before now. Veronica introduced them. "Congratulations," she addressed the word to Logan, but enveloped Veronica in a warm hug. "You look happy."

"I am," Veronica assured the older woman.

"And your daughter is beautiful."

Wyatt was making her own table rounds trying to collect as many beach balls as she could carry. Logan let his eyes follow her progress. She dumped her pile and plopped to the floor in the center of them laughing. Okay maybe the beach balls weren't such a bad idea. Anything that could make his daughter that happy was fine by him.

"—signed, sealed, and delivered." The end of Wallace's sentence refocused his attention.

"I'm yours," Logan quipped.

"Not in front of your wife, man." Wallace grinned. "I mean, I know I'm irresistible, but you two just got married."

"I don't know whose ego is worse, yours" —Veronica eyeballed Wallace and then glanced at Logan— "Or my husband's."

It was the second time in a span of an hour that she'd referred to him as her husband and Logan loved hearing it. There was a possessive sound to it —my husband— like she was staking her claim to him. He kissed her shoulder, wrapped his arms around her waist and fitted her back against his chest. "I love you," he whispered in her ear.

Turning her head, she placed her palm on his cheek and kissed him.

On their way to the final table, he asked her about Wallace's signed, sealed and delivered comment. "The marriage license, he was our official witness."

"Good choice."

They'd decided to not have bridal attendants in part because it was too traditional for them, but also because it was too hard to choose a best man and a maid of honor —Wallace, Mac, Dick, and Jake— were all too important to them.

Dinner was already served at Weevil's table and he was mid-bite when Logan and Veronica sidled up to his chair. "Easy there Weevs, it's not chow time in the joint."

"Really? It tastes just the same."

Logan opened his mouth to offer a rejoinder and Veronica hip-checked him. Exchanging insults was the way of his relationship with Weevil so he didn't understand her warning until he saw the frown of disapproval on Jade's face. Logan offered a bland:"Thank you for coming; are you having a good time?"

Jade gave him a tight smile. "Congratulations." Her bitter inflection on the word wasn't missed by anyone at the table including Weevil.

Veronica made their excuses —we'll leave you to eat— and they skedaddled back to the sanctuary of their own table. "They did not look like a reconciled couple."

Logan shook his head as he cut into his steak. "Not for lack of trying on Weevil's part; I'm surprised she agreed to come with him."

"Me too."

His gaze drifted from the sad Valentina to Wyatt at the table with Keith. She was eating a gooey grilled cheese prepared especially for her by Uncle Richard and pulling apart the bread in search of a slice of bacon. "Just like her Mommy."

"Huh?" Logan nodded toward their daughter. "That's not like me at all- what a waste of cheese."

"So cheese takes priority over bacon on your food list?" Doubtful.

Tilting her head, she considered the question. "Okay, you're right, bacon has a slight edge." She was alternating bites between her three plates. "I think the chicken is my favorite."

"Maybe you should lick the plate to be sure."

"That remark cost you a taste."

"There's something else at this table I'd rather eat."

"Logan!" Her cheeks turned the same color as the inside of his rare filet and he chuckled. A bobcat in the bedroom, but he could still make her blush in public. It was just another thing he loved about her. His wife was a study in contrasts.

"Dow!" Wyatt was wriggling in her high chair. She turned pleading eyes to Logan and held out her arms. "Daddy."

Logan crossed to her table with his napkin, squatted next to the high chair, and started to clean her sticky fingers. "Hey, Jellybean, are you done eating?"

Her eyes fell to her plate and her mangled grilled cheese. "Me eat."

It didn't look like me had eaten anything, but he couldn't tell from the state of her sandwich. "Do you want some of Daddy's steak?" Logan lifted her out of the chair. "That is, if Mommy hasn't finished it already."

Dottie passed him her diaper bag. "Wet naps are in the side pocket and the baby monitor's in there when you're ready to put her down."

"Thanks."

Since the evening was going to run late and extend past her bedtime, Keith and Dottie had set up a portable crib in Dick's office-cum-bridal-suite. Logan wasn't thrilled with the idea —too many strangers working in the restaurant— but he wasn't going to ask anyone to leave early to watch his daughter.

On his way back to Veronica, the soft dinner music faded and Nick was on the microphone. "And now it's time for the father-daughter dance, Keith, Veronica, the floor is yours."

"I'm still chewing," his wife softly complained before dabbing at her mouth with a napkin and standing. She placed her hand on Wyatt's head, kissed Logan's cheek, and went to join her dad on the dance floor.

Remaining on his feet, he rocked Wyatt, and watched Keith dance with his daughter. Veronica beamed at her dad and Logan's own words came back to him —I look at you and your dad, you know, that thing that you have— and they still had it. No matter the struggles or the hardships or the disappointments, their bond was the same. I never had that.

"One day that will be you and Wyatt."

Logan glanced down at his sister. "I hope so." He kissed the top of Wyatt's head. One day he wanted to be able to dance with his daughter on her wedding day and for Wyatt to look at him with the same love and admiration that were shining in Veronica's eyes.

"You're…" Trina's voice faltered. "She's lucky to have you." His sister gently stroked Wyatt's hair and then lightly squeezed his arm before walking away. Logan's gaze flicked to the dance floor and then back to his sister as he contemplated following her. She looked sad, but comforting each other had never been their thing and what could he really say to make this moment easier for her?

Applause signaled the end of the father-daughter dance and he moved toward his wife. Veronica offered him a small smile and shook her head to halt his progress. He watched his wife kick off her shoes and resume dancing with her dad.

Wyatt squirmed in his arms. "Dow," she said while pointing to the ground.

Reluctantly, Logan put her down and she immediately sat on the carpet to tug off her shoes. He rescued the tiny Mary Janes before she could toss them away and slipped them in his pocket. Grabbing his pant legs, Wyatt pulled herself up and settled her tiny feet on his shoes in imitation of her mother and grandfather. "Want to dance with Daddy, Jellybean?"

Her head bobbed up and down. Logan took her hands and danced with his daughter in the small space between the tables. Gripping his thumbs tight, Wyatt smiled up at him —I have it now— and then she yawned.

"Sleepy Bean." Logan scooped her into his arms and cradled her against him continuing their dance. "I love you Wyatt."

"Love Daddy," she mumbled into his chest as she struggled to stay awake.

Logan kissed the crown of her head and smiled. Rocking her close, he could feel her limbs grow heavy as she lost the battle and drifted off to sleep. He picked up the diaper bag, skirted the dance floor and walked his way through the room to Dick's office.

After settling Wyatt in the Graco crib with Cuddles, he covered her with a blanket and watched for a moment to make sure she wouldn't wake. Then he confirmed that the baby monitor was on and that the door to the beach was locked. He frowned at the door and then shoved Dick's desk in front of it.

Practically everyone was on the dance floor when he returned to the main dining room. His wife was dancing with Wallace, Trina was back on the floor this time with Jake instead of Patrick, and Keith was dancing with Dottie close to Alicia and her husband, Miles.

Logan passed by his table. His steak was gone and in its place was a wide flat plate of various cheeses—blue cheese with fresh figs, brie paired with dark, sweet cherries, aged cheddar with tart apple slices— and a loaf of still-warm French bread. With one last longing look at his food, he kept moving and headed out for the dance floor to rescue Jake from Trina.

When she spotted him, Trina stopped mid-sentence, and gushed, "Oh Logan."

Relief washed over Jake's face as he hastily stepped aside to let Logan dance with his sister.

"Jake was just telling me about his call sign."

Logan quickly disabused her of the faulty origin Jake gave for his call sign and then grinned when he heard the next song selection. It was a fast dance, which got them both moving and laughing with little time for conversation. As the song ended, Trina latched on to Dick and Logan silently chuckled at his friend's deer-in-headlights expression as Logan backed away toward the bar, his eyes scanning the room for his new wife.

A long table was placed by the nearby wall and waiters were carrying trays of dessert from the kitchen and artfully arranging them on the linen-covered surface. Logan spotted Veronica just in time to see her almost stumble. He followed her sight line to an overflowing platter of cannolis and he smiled. Dick may have redeemed himself for his toast.

Logan did a double-take to the dance floor. Wallace was no longer Veronica's partner. Abandoning his position, Logan wove his way through the dancing couples. As he drew closer to Jake and Veronica, he could hear their conversation over the music.

"We're a few weeks in to OCS and we're at this bar in Newport —The Pelham—and there's a table of women, five of them and they are—"

Logan tapped his shoulder. "I'd like to dance with my wife now."

Veronica flashed him a saccharine-sweet smile. "We're good here, Boo; why don't you go dance with your sister again?"

Boo? "I don't think so… Pookie," he protested.

"Anyway, these women are Helens," Jake continued his story as he danced Veronica away from Logan. "Well, I was completely faced so they might not have been that hot. What about it, Mouth?"

Logan moved across the floor with them. "Why don't you tell Veronica about your own call sign and leave me out of it?"

"Nothing to tell." Jake waved him away. "It's Ch—."

"You know that's not what it means." Logan interrupted, rolling his eyes.

This time, Veronica took the lead and danced Jake away from Logan and his constant interruptions. With a resigned sigh, Logan headed back to their table. This was entirely Jake's fault. Veronica was perfectly content believing that his call sign was given because of his penchant for talking too much and then Jake went and ruined things by correcting her at Christmas. Jake did not appreciate how determined and dogged Veronica could be when she wanted to know something.

The song ended and, from the disappointment washing over Veronica's face, Jake didn't have a chance to finish the story. But, her disappointment was short-lived when Nick announced it was time for cake. Once the dance floor cleared, a waiter started to wheel out the cake on an antique, drop leaf tea cart.

It was a three-tiered cake and each level was separated with an ivory band. The words "old and new, past and present" were written across the ivory band in an elegant script. Logan took Veronica's hand and they walked around the cake together. Black and white photos covered the sides of the cake. It was their story in photographs.

The bottom layer had baby Veronica and toddler Logan; a picture of them together when they were teenagers; Veronica with Lilly; the fab four at Homecoming; Veronica in her soccer uniform; yearbook photos, and high school graduation. The middle layer was Stanford and law school and OCS and his winging ceremony. And the top layer was their family- various stills of them with Wyatt.

Veronica buried her face in his arm and he knew she was crying. Logan squeezed her shoulder and kissed the top of her head. He dawdled with the knife to give her a moment. "Are you ready?"

Nodding, she took a step back, wiped her eyes and smiled at him. They cut the first slice of cake and he transferred it to a plate. Logan handed her a fork.

"Uh, I think you go first."

He shook his head and picked up his fork. "Together."

They fed each other a bite of the chocolate raspberry cake. Then Logan pulled her flush against him and kissed her, indulging in the sweetness that was Veronica. My wife.

Nick turned the music back on and encouraged everyone to join the bride and groom on the dance floor. Logan had no idea if they actually followed his instructions because he only had eyes for Veronica. "Today was perfect."

A smile tugged at her mouth. "It's not over yet."

"You mean we have to stay?"

"Until the very last dance," she confirmed.

"As you wish." Logan bowed and she rolled her eyes. "You have no idea how much I wanted the judge to say 'mawwaige is what bwings us togevah today'."

Veronica laughed. "You would."

"And did you know there's a church of The Dude? It's the church of the latter-day Dude."

"Get out." She playfully swatted his arm.

"I'm serious." He twirled her around the floor. "I was going to have Dick get ordained as a Dudeist priest to perform the ceremony."

"This is not 'Nam, it's a wedding, there are rules." She grinned. "And one of those is that the bride gets to sample every dessert on that table over there."

"Is that a hint?"

"Too subtle?" Logan danced her over to the dessert table where she preceded to hand him a plate. "For my overflow."

"Yes ma'am."

"I'm going to let that slide in the presence of all this yummy goodness."

Weevil cut his way into the line next to them. "Never thought I'd see this day," Weevil teased, "but I'm glad I did. I'm happy for you, V."

Veronica hugged her friend. Logan nodded at him and then stepped back to give them a moment, listening as Weevil bade them goodbye. His new wife looked a little disappointed that her friend was leaving early, but Logan understood. He offered his own thanks for Weevil's attendance and then waved an empty plate at Veronica, tempting her back to the overladen table of desserts.

True to her word, she took one of every pastry, cookie, tart, and cannoli. She sampled as they started walking back to their table. "Be a good husband and get me some coffee would ya?"

He did her bidding and went to get them both coffee, but their table was empty when he returned. His eyes immediately found her across the room talking with Wallace. Setting down the demitasse cups, he stole a cannoli from the plate she'd left behind, and looked around the restaurant. People were getting ready to go —saying goodbye to their dinner companions, gathering their things— and, despite his complaints, he was sad to see the evening end.

Trina was alone at her table. He popped a cookie in his mouth and made his way to her chair. "One more dance, before you leave, Sis?"

She gladly accepted his offer, and they moved to the center of the floor just as Nick changed the music. Logan gave a wry smile at both the song choice and the way his sister could deliver an unintentional insult under the guise of helpful commentary. Their relationship was about as uneven as the tempo of the music. Starting over wasn't the easiest thing to do when every shared memory was tinged with anger or resentment or pain. But he loved his sister and he told her so as their dance came to an end.

Logan made his way to Veronica. She'd twisted her hair into a messy bun leaving her neck bare for his fingers to explore. She swatted his hand away at the same time as she leaned into his side. Logan draped his arm around her waist, pulling her a little closer and kissing her temple.

Wallace gagged. "You two acting like newlyweds is my cue to bounce."

Veronica punched his arm and then hugged him. Logan couldn't hear what she whispered in Wallace's ear, but it made them both grin.

After saying their goodbyes to the Fennells, Logan took her hand for the walk to their table. The journey was interrupted several times by people coming to say goodbye. Her friends, the Mackenzies, and then the guys from his squad. Logan held out her chair. "I'm going to check on the baby; do you want me to get you anything?"

She eyed the empty spaces on her dessert plate and Logan bit the inside of his mouth to keep from commenting. Of course, she would notice the missing cannoli and cookie. "No, I think I'm good," she said with a certain amount of reluctance.

Logan rubbed the back of her neck, kissed her shoulder, and went to Dick's office to check on Wyatt.

The baby was scrunched up in the corner of the crib sleeping on her stomach with her butt in the air. The blanket was twisted and pushed in the opposite corner. Cuddles was clutched in the crook of her arm. Logan shook out the blanket and covered her.

He encountered Dick on his way back to the reception. "That cake was… amazing. Thanks, man."

Dick hugged him. "Anything for you and Ronnie, dude."

"Our last dance is a special request by the bride for her husband."

At Nick's announcement, Logan looked over his shoulder in search of Veronica. She was waiting alone in the center of the dance floor, crooking her finger and beckoning him forward. "Gotta go, my wife needs me."

As he reached her side, Bill Medley's baritone came through the speakers and filled the restaurant: Now I've had the time of my life; no, I've never felt like this before; yes, I swear it's the truth and I owe it all to you.