Marie's POV

The realtor did a stellar job of selecting office suites – and by the third location Ken's practice had a new home. It was late enough in the afternoon that a celebratory cocktail wasn't inappropriate.

"Of course Logan would hit the Jack anytime, 'It's 5 o'clock somewhere in the world' being his excuse," I observed as I took a sip of my martini.

Ken sighed heavily and took a long, slow sip of his own Scotch.

"What?" I asked in confusion.

"It's nothing," he replied without looking at me.

"Well, it's obviously something," I insisted, "You've hardly said a word since we got here. If I wanted a one-sided conversation, where I'm doing all the talking and the other person is just grunting replies, I could be at home talking to …"

"Logan," he interrupted, a bit sharper than I felt was necessary.

Guess I must've mentioned Logan's irritating habit of answering like a Neanderthal instead of an actual human being – but there was no need to be testy about it.

Before I had a chance to say anything Ken continued, "Are you even capable of going five whole minutes without invoking his name?"

My deer-in-the-headlights expression meant I didn't have a quick enough comeback, so he added, "Seriously, Marie, you ought to time yourself. It's LoganLoganLogan. Constantly. I've never considered myself a jealous man, but I'd like your attention to be on me – not some guy you claim is a pain in your ass and yet occupies most of your thoughts."

"I don't …" I started to say in defense, but he cut me off.

"Yes, you do. Maybe you don't even realize it, but you say his name … a lot. It's Logan this and Logan that. I was worried I'd be competing with the memory of your husband, but …"

This time I cut him off, "Don't go there," I warned gently.

"Why? Afraid to face the truth?" he asked – his tone much calmer as the exasperation dissipated.

"The only truth in regards to … Logan," I began – now hesitant to even say his name out loud, "is that …" And I couldn't finish that sentence because I didn't actually know what the truth was when it came to him. Well, other than the man was, is and always will be a complication in my life. I sighed in defeat.

"Do you love him?" Ken asked.

"What?" I replied in shock. Nobody had asked me that loaded question in a long time.

"Do you love him?" he repeated slowly.

"I had a crush on him when I was seventeen," I answered honestly, "But he chose someone else – and eventually I moved on."

"And had a wonderful marriage, which doesn't necessarily preclude you from carrying a torch for your first love."

"Well, technically my 'first love' was this guy named David, who I put into a coma when my mutation manifested," I clarified. But what I was really doing was an imaginary dance around a theoretical bush, "I told you, Logan was just a crush. It was never love."

I was beginning to regret telling him about my history with Logan.

"Really?"

If I'd managed to convince myself that, then why can't I achieve the same result with everyone else? Because apparently I'm floating up the River of Denial – in a rowboat without a paddle.

I sighed in frustration. I couldn't blame Ken for being upset with my apparently-not-as-suppressed-as-I'd-thought obsession with all things Wolverine. I wanted to kick myself, kick Logan – and then scream loud enough that it would make Siryn jealous.

"I think you're afraid to acknowledge that you love him … so you're looking for a distraction," Ken continued gently, "I like you, Marie. A lot. But I don't want to be anybody's temporary someone."

"I like you too … a lot," I told him honestly. Because the truth was I did like him, but I wasn't in love with him. Pieces of my heart had already been claimed by two other men.

Cocktail hour was over – and so was our relationship.

When I got home I sought out Charles for some advice. I found him in his private study and requested a few minutes of his time.

"Boy trouble?" he inquired as he gestured toward the couch.

"With a capital 'T'," I responded as I walked over and dropped down onto it.

I sunk into the dark chocolate-colored leather and was immediately comforted by its softness and smell. I'd always had an appreciation for leather … this couch, my favorite Chanel handbag, Scott's uniform, Logan's jacket. Hmm, maybe Ken was right, as I can't seem to go for more than a few minutes without having some Logan-connected thought.

LoganLoganLoganLogan. It was like his name was on an endless loop that was slowly going to drive me insane.

Charles raised an eyebrow and appeared to be losing a battle to suppress a smirk.

"Was I projecting?" I asked almost rhetorically.

"I *heard* you all the way from the foyer," he replied.

"Okay then, I guess I just need to give you the Reader's Digest version of the evening. Ken said that I talk about Logan all the time, which maybe I do, I didn't think so. But Ken thinks it's because I have feelings for Logan that I won't acknowledge …"

Charles held his hands up and said, "Whoa. Marie, take a breath."

"I'm sorry. Was I rambling?"

"Just a little," he responded holding up his right hand and pinching two of the fingers together,

"It's just that … Logan. Ugh! Why does everything in my life circle back to him?"

Charles opened his mouth to reply, but I just kept talking.

"I'm so confused," I confessed and sunk my head into my hands.

"Do you remember what happened with Hayley?" Charles asked.

I looked back up. "Of course. Why?"

"I told Logan that he sabotaged that relationship because he didn't want anyone to replace you in his heart, and Hayley was becoming dangerously close to accomplishing that."

"Okay. So what has that got to do with what's going on now?" I asked – completely perplexed at where he was heading with this particular train of thought.

"Ken is your Hayley," he stated simply.

I just sat there quietly, allowing that analysis to sink in.

Breaking the silence, I inquired, "So who was Ken supposed to be replacing … Scott or Logan?"

"You tell me," he replied.

I hesitated … because I wasn't sure of the answer.

"Scott was the one I loved. With Logan, it was just a crush," I finally said as I unconsciously petted the soft leather.

"Really? I thought only Jean ever considered it just a crush," he said – his amusement obvious.

I shot him a teasing death glare that packed no real heat.

"Even Scott accepted that a little piece of your heart always belonged to Logan," he continued in a more serious vein.

Mentioning Scott's awareness of my connection to Logan made the guilt rise up.

Either I was projecting again or it was plainly written all over my face because Charles reassured me that I shouldn't deny my feelings for Logan out of loyalty to Scott. That loving someone else wouldn't diminish what I'd had with my husband.

We talked for another hour – and when I finally walked out of the office, I felt better than I had in a long time.

I skipped dinner – allowing Kitty and Jubilee to take Sara and Ethan to Chuck E. Cheese so that I could be alone to reflect on the day's events. I'd walked away from what I thought could've been an almost perfect relationship – one that might've even eventually come pretty close to what I'd had with Scott.

Instead, I'm sitting alone on a bench by the lake.

Ken hadn't been exaggerating about Logan. I did invoke his name a lot. I was probably the only one who'd failed to notice how obsessed I was with the man. Well, considering how snappy, sarcastic and generally bitchy I was to him; it's likely that Logan didn't realize it either.

I let out an audible sigh and then practically jumped out of my skin when Logan stepped into my line of vision and said, "Hi."

"Good God, were you a Ninja in a previous life?" I managed to get out, "Quit sneaking up on me."

"Hey, it's not my fault your combat skills are rusty," he replied with a grin.

And there was that smugness that I wanted to wipe off his face with a slap … or a kiss. As usual, I was confused by how I ought to react to him.

Without waiting for an invitation, he dropped down next to me and took a long pull off his cigar.

In an effort to avoid any real conversation, I waved my hand in the air and fake coughed.

"We're outside!" Logan said, or technically whined.

"It's still blowing in my face," I retorted – adding another exaggerated choking sound.

"Fine," he admitted in defeat and tossed the stogie into the water.

"Thanks for polluting the lake," I told him.

"It does kinda look like a turd," he replied with a chuckle, noting the cigar bobbing along on the surface.

"You're so gross."

"Enough with the bullshit small-talk," he answered, "Why are you really parked on the bench of sobs?"

"I broke up with Ken," I stated bluntly – too tired and not in the mood to beat around the bush and play 20 questions.

"Finally," he said, not even attempting to suppress a big smile.

"You don't have to be so happy about it," I said, quietly instead of snapping at him as usual.

He reached over and tucked a strand of platinum behind my ear and said, "I'm sorry you're hurting."

The tears I'd been holding back were now starting to make my vision blurry and I dropped my head to avoid looking at him.

Logan paused for a moment before saying, "I love you. I always have, you know that right?"

I raised watery brown eyes to his hazel ones and replied, "I know. And I've always loved you too."

"It's not too late for us, Marie."

I honestly wasn't sure how to answer that, so I just sat there in silence.

Logan, who isn't exactly known for his patience, didn't wait for more than a couple of heartbeats before continuing.

"Scott Summers was your past – and I promise to honor that – and keep his memory alive for Sara and Ethan. But I want to be your future. I'm just asking you to give me … to give us a second chance."

"Okay," I agreed with a nod of my head.

And in the end, that's all that was needed. The past belongs to Scott, but the future belongs to Logan.

THE END