CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
They'd broken the rule of not going to bed angry. He'd made her so mad she couldn't see straight, and she'd been unable to keep her headache at bay. It had exploded through her brain with the same ferocity she'd used to curse him. 'Fuck you, Logan' had been the final words she'd said to him last night. She'd left him alone to do both bath and bedtime, and she didn't give a shit if the toys got cleaned up or not. At least neither of them had ended up on the couch. Even if they did manage to remain on their respective sides of the bed with a large swath of mattress between them all night.
"No 'raffe." Wyatt said, in between bites of her melon. "Daddy 'raffe." This was her third retelling of yesterday's trip to the zoo. The first time was to Saffy the giraffe, then to Logan during morning potty time, and now to Veronica as entertainment while she cooked breakfast. Thankfully it was a short tale. "Zoo bye bye."
The last line was delivered with such finality Veronica almost believed Wyatt never wanted to go to the zoo again. I'm not that lucky. She transferred bacon from the frying pan to the waiting paper towels. "Do you want more juice?"
"Where Daddy?"
"Getting dressed," Veronica lied. She had no idea where Logan was, or what he was doing.
The mood in the house was -to put it mildly- strained. Logan was still smarting from his perceived betrayal, and angry because she wouldn't do what he wanted. And she was … not pissed exactly, but something. Frustrated at still not having the answer to the paternity question. Mad that Logan had skirted very close to demanding she quit a case. And possibly a little worried that his reasons for such a demand were logical.
But there was no going off to lick their wounds. Not when there were little people depending on you. Breakfast needed to be made and eaten. Diaper bags had to be restocked. Laundry wasn't going to do itself. And Wyatt would definitely not understand a 'Family Day' at which her parents weren't actually present.
Veronica cracked another egg into the mixing bowl. Her grand plans for today now sounded awful. Confined side-by-side with Logan in the small cockpit of the Tundra held all the appeal of attending one of Hannibal Lecter's dinner parties. She sighed. It was only an hour flight to Half Moon Bay. And while liver and fava beans were not part of her picnic menu, a nice bottle of Chianti might make the trip tolerable.
She paused in her scrambling. If they were going to take this hellish trip, best to get it started now. The sooner they began, the faster it would be over. Veronica scooped more melon from the cutting board and dumped it in Wyatt's bowl. "I'll go see what's taking Daddy so long." And make sure he doesn't disprove my lie by returning to the kitchen in his boxer briefs.
Wyatt tugged her sippy cup of chocolate milk from her mouth. "Okay Mama."
Veronica headed for their bedroom, and stopped short in the doorway. "What are you doing?"
"Making the bed," Logan answered without pause, and without looking at her. He was rolling their comforter with the cover like a blanket burrito. "It's an easy way to get the duvet on; I saw it on Rachael Ray."
His words from last night-you are my home... the only home I've ever had-washed over her. As did her promise, this is us, forever. No matter what happens, we'll make it work. And she believed it. This fight would pass. They'd work out a compromise, and be on the same side again. Their life together-their family-was more important to her than anything else. "I love you, Logan."
Smiling, he paused mid-pillow fluff. "Me? Or my bed-making skills?"
"Both? It can totally be both, right?" She started across the room toward him.
His smile faded, settling into a deep frown as he turned away. He stared at the pillow he was holding, as if for a moment he'd forgotten its purpose, then added it to the pile already on her side of the bed. "Are we still going to Half Moon Bay?"
"How did you kn-"
"The airport called me- they know I like to file a VFR flight plan when I have Wyatt with me, so they were checking."
It wasn't strictly necessary. Visual flight rules didn't require a flight plan, but they were recommended so rescue workers could find you in the event of a crash. Veronica winced. Of course he would take the extra step when he had Wyatt. It was why he spent additional hours researching plane safety for children before buying one, and investigated FAA approved restraints for both their daughters.
The safety of his family was his paramount concern.
"I won't dance at Shenanigans anymore." He looked up sharply, and she held out a hand to keep him from speaking. "But, I'm not just going to walk away and let Sam keep doing business as usual."
"And how exactly do you plan to stop him?"
Veronica shrugged. "Force of will? Strength of character? Tenacity?"
"Karate chop," he finished her sentence, and this time when he smiled, it reached his eyes, turning their intense depths warm with a glint of mirth. "Gee, I wonder why the FBI never tried that before?"
"Obviously, they aren't as smart as I am."
"Or as humble," he said, dryly. There was a slight pause as their world shifted, regaining its equilibrium, and Veronica felt the knot in her stomach loosening. Logan slipped a case on the last pillow and tossed it on his side of the mattress. "Maybe we should skip the flight and the…" Logan arched a brow and waited for her to fill in the rest of her plans.
"Beach picnic."
"And just stay home? We can plant those flowers you were angling for, go swimming, and have lunch by the pool."
"I suppose, but first… breakfast!" She clapped her hands together, and realized THAT was where Wyatt got it-the tiny clap of enthusiasm-from imitating her. Great. Eye rolls and sarcasm, here we come. "Chop, chop; I'm making eggs and bacon." Veronica paused at the door and turned back, taking a minute to savor the view of Logan in the earlier, just-imagined boxer briefs. "And get dressed first, okay?"
Another inquisitive eyebrow lift was his only response.
"Just trust me, it's important." Getting caught in a lie was bad enough, but when you were found out by your own toddler… it would not be pretty. Especially since Wyatt seemed to have a memory like an elephant, or like both her parents.
She was also the messiest eater ever. Upon Veronica's return to the kitchen, she found chunks of cantaloupe on the floor, squished melon stuck to Wyatt's hands, arms, and face, and an overturned sippy cup creating a small chocolate-milk lake. "Bacon!" Wyatt shouted, the second she saw Veronica.
"It's coming." She gave her hungry daughter a slice to tide her over until the eggs were done, then ducked into the living room for a quick check on Bailey. The baby was content in her gliding swing-cranked up to the fastest speed-and babbling at the twirling bears overhead. Just watching all the motion made Veronica dizzy, but Bay was happy.
She returned to the kitchen by way of the front door, in order to retrieve both the San Diego Union-Tribune and the Neptune Register for Logan. It was digital editions all week long, but on Sundays he wanted 'the real thing.' Veronica put them near his chair, far enough away from Lake Chocolate to not get ruined, then went back to the eggs, making Wyatt's with just cheese, and adding mushrooms to Logan's.
He arrived, fully dressed, just in time to take his plate from her. Leaning over, he brushed his lips across her cheek in a quick, soft kiss of thanks, and crossed to the table. "This is a waste of valuable chocolate, Jellybean." He righted her cup, unfazed by the mess, and kissed the top of her head; the only part of her that was still clean. "In this house, chocolate is like gold."
Wyatt just stared at him, head tilted in confusion, slowly chewing. "Read now," she commanded, mouth full and spitting bacon, pointing at the papers. Such a bossy little thing. Veronica shook her head. Surely, she had NO IDEA where THAT personality trait came from.
Logan obliged their daughter, starting with the Register. It was the only way he got to read the paper-by convincing Wyatt it was breakfast 'story time'. He found an innocuous article regarding the upcoming holiday light display organized by the Neptune Community Foundation, and read it out loud to her.
Veronica rolled her eyes at the quote from Celeste about her 'continuing dedication to beautifying the streets of Neptune', and then watched in horror as Wyatt attempted to mimic the gesture. "Shit," she muttered.
Logan, having caught both their expressions, tried to stop his I-told-you-so by bending his head and focusing all his attention on the paper.
After shoving an entire slice of bacon in her mouth, Veronica started whisking together eggs, ham, and cheddar for her own breakfast, chomping furiously, and lamenting the fact that Logan was right. Wyatt was doomed to acquire all their bad habits. Or maybe they were the ones who were doomed?
She felt Logan behind her, and the folded Register landed on the counter next to the mixing bowl. "Actions do speak louder than words," he whispered close to her ear, before kissing her temple. "I love you, Veronica."
Not that she was complaining about the kiss, or the arm slipped around her waist, but…
The headline read, "Local Man Arrested in Drug Bust."
Sean Friedrich, 32, was arrested early Friday morning after a raid was conducted on his home. Police received an anonymous tip that he was dealing cocaine from the Pacific View Apartments complex in Chula Vista. After a thorough search, they confiscated a kilo of cocaine and several pounds of marijuana.
"What makes you think-"
"Because I do know who I married, and this is definitely your handiwork."
Veronica turned in his arms to see his face, trying to gauge how he felt about her part in Sean's downfall. There was absolutely no censure in his gaze, and any lingering doubts about his opinion were dispelled when he slanted his mouth over hers in a kiss both loving and incredibly hot. It was so easy to get lost in the taste of him, and the way their bodies fit, as if they were two separate pieces coming together to make a whole. Nothing existed in this space but them.
He ended the kiss but didn't release her. "I love you," he said again, dropping a tiny kiss on her nose. "And I shouldn't have-"
She pressed her fingers to his lips. "No, Logan, I'm the one who owes you an apology. I shouldn't have kept my feelings to myself, running hot and cold, and then getting angry because you couldn't guess at my thoughts... I'm sorry."
Chicago was right, it was hard to say, but it was important. Not only for him. She glanced at Wyatt, who was sipping her milk and staring at her parents. If she was going to model their behavior, she needed some good examples too.
Logan brushed the hair from Veronica's forehead, and pressed his lips to her brow. "Look at us, making it work."
She laughed. "Who'da thunk it?"
"Me, but I am gifted with the extraordinary ability to understand the human condition."
"You don't even like people," Veronica scoffed.
"Who needs to like them to understand them?" He returned to his now-cold food. "This talent is why I always win at Cards Against Humanity. It's not because my choices are the best, it's because I know what other people will find funny. You vote for the sly humor, Dottie likes clever word play, and, your DAD appreciates my puns- oh, and fart jokes."
Another eye roll was on the horizon, but-in deference to Wyatt-Veronica managed to restrain herself. She joined them at the table. The moment she sat, Bailey decided her swing was no longer of interest and let out a sharp cry.
"I'll get her," Logan volunteered, scooping the last of his eggs onto a half-slice of toast, and eating on his way inside.
Wyatt watched him go, glanced at her plate, and looked at Veronica. "Done."
"Figures." One of these days, she'd eat an uninterrupted breakfast while it was still hot, one that wasn't the remains of someone else's meal. She got a washcloth, cleaned Wyatt's face and hands, then freed her from the booster chair.
Wyatt scurried inside to join Logan, and ran smack into him as he was returning to the kitchen with Bailey snuggled to his chest. "Whoa, where's the fire?"
"You- you're the fire." He was certainly hot enough to ignite one. "And someone was not happy with your departure."
Logan stroked his fingers through Wyatt's hair, soothing. "Okay Jellybean, let's get you dressed and find your gardening tools, so we can plant some flowers." The suggestion was enough to send her racing toward her room, but she only got as far as the door to the hall before she turned back to wait for him.
Veronica frowned, rethinking the giraffe meltdown, and wondering if something else at the zoo had unnerved Wyatt. She looked at Logan and saw the same concern reflected on his face. "See if you can get to the bottom of that." He nodded, and Veronica turned back to her food.
It didn't take him long to get them ready. It never did, when he lured Wyatt with the promise of fun. The cacophony as he bundled them outside was followed by an abrupt, deep silence.
Veronica watched them through the window as she ate. Logan spread a blanket on the lawn for Bay to have tummy time, then showed Wyatt where to start digging with her little green shovel.
The resolution of their fight, combined with the quiet, allowed Veronica's mind to wander back to the case.
How was she going to bust Sam when the FBI couldn't? Especially if she couldn't remain undercover at the club? Veronica toyed with the idea of enlisting Pam. It would help cement her deal with the USAO, and she'd make a great witness against Sam, but could she do it? And what did Veronica expect her to find? They'd already searched the office thoroughly, and turned up exactly nothing.
Well, not nothing. There were the invoices, which might help prove the money laundering- eventually. And there were the videos. Pam thought they were Joey's DVD collection of the girls' performances, but what if… Veronica considered. High-end security cameras. Blackmail. Cloud accounts. She needed Pam to get her a sampling of the tapes. Just one or two of them would suffice. And what about those numbers from the desk calendar? Could it be a SWIFT code for a foreign bank? An encryption key?
Veronica gave it up. There was time to think about the case later. She'd regroup while the girls were napping, review the files, and come up with a plan. For now, she needed to clean the kitchen and join her family in the yard.
Gardening went about as well as expected with a baby who demanded attention, and a toddler who declared, "Me do," every five seconds, but Logan managed to haul all the plants from the car to the yard, and arrange the flowers in a pretty pattern around the deck footings. "We're going to need mulch," he said, swapping the placement of the elephant ears for some blue hostas Veronica didn't remember him buying. "And a border. Stacked stone? Belgian block?"
She didn't try to hide her smile. "Maybe we can plant a few of those hostas in the front yard?"
"I'll get more for that… and some peonies." He studied the layout, and nodded in satisfaction. "And roses."
"Sure, but first- nap time!"
"Me no nap," Wyatt shouted to no one in particular. On her knees, she was eating a PB&J with one hand, and digging a hole for the hibiscus she'd claimed as her own. "P'anting."
"The nap's for me and Daddy, not you." Veronica stood and stretched. "What about it Logan, will you read me a story?" This got Wyatt's attention, as she had known it would. "I'm thinking Moo Baa La La La." She managed to choke out the name of the book and keep a straight face.
"I could use a nap," Logan agreed, resting his shovel against the deck rail. "And, if I can stay awake long enough, I'll read the new book I got- Pigeon Wants a Puppy."
"Perfect." She tapped the baby bouncer with her toe. "What about this little one? Should we leave her out here with her sister, who's very busy planting and not interested in story time, or should we bring her with us?"
Logan pretended to consider it. "I'm not sure- what do you think, Jellybean? Stories for Rabbit, or do you want her to keep you company?"
"Read me." Wyatt tossed away the yellow trowel, shoved her last bite of sandwich in her mouth, (dirt from her fingers included), and held out her arms for Logan. "Pidge puppy!"
He swung her into the air, then sat her on his shoulders. "I guess the tinier one should come too."
"You take her." Veronica passed him the carrier. "And get started without me; I'm going to clean up the mess." That should be the title of her autobiography- clean up the mess- because it's what she did most often...for Wyatt, for her clients, and even her own life. Of course, it would probably help if she didn't make a mess of things first. But why quibble?
She gathered the blanket, baby toys, and the detritus of their sandwich lunch, and carried it all into the house. Logan joined her in the kitchen before she'd even finished loading the plates into the dishwasher. "No way."
"She didn't even get through the entire list of things Pigeon wanted. Her eyes were drooping by item five." He held up a hand, palm out, and waved his fingers for emphasis. "And I knew she was completely out when I got to 'candy' and there were no demands for gummy bears."
"Too much sunshine and hard labor, I guess." Veronica yawned. "For me too, apparently."
"Go lie down. I'll finish up."
She shook her head. "There's no rest for the weary. I want to go over the case files; they're still in Amber's trunk." Logan had rented the room at the Holiday Inn, but they hadn't availed themselves of the privacy- either for case-related stuff, or sexy couple time. "You know, we should let Dottie and my dad come watch the girls on Tuesday night anyway."
"Oh?"
"It would be a shame to waste a hotel room and free babysitting."
His answering smile was slow and indecent. "Waste not, want not."
Veronica fanned herself, then gave him a gentle push. "Stop looking at me like that, and go away before I forget all about … what was I going to do again?"
"Work." He kissed her nose. "And I'm going to take a quick shower, then go talk to Pam."
The reminder was a much-needed douse of cold water. Now that he was doing what she wanted, she was searching for reasons to make him stay. The easiest was joining him in the shower. She stifled a sigh and let him go. Work, Veronica.
Her keys were in the bowl next to his.
When they'd come home in the wee hours of the morning after Siobhan's murder, they'd left Amber's car right across the street. It wasn't the safest place to park, but it certainly was convenient. Veronica approached it only after checking for surveillance and popped the trunk. A jumble of files, notes, manilla envelopes, and DVDs greeted her. She righted the banker's box and tossed all the stuff inside. Forget nap time, it would take her days to go through all this. Dumping the paperwork in the repository of Amber's trunk had let her ignore the sheer volume of information she'd gathered.
She shrugged. It had to be done. And, with any luck, one of these myriad pieces of paper would hold a clue.
After lugging it all inside, she spread everything across the dining room table and added the banking records she'd gotten from Gil. Thinking about him made her wonder if Agent Tam had found Haley, and if Gil had gotten Pam's deal ironed out. She could call, but she recognized the idea for the procrastination tactic it really was. When and if he had something to report, he'd reach out. Veronica checked her phone to be sure-no missed calls-then started sorting through the pages.
By the time she got organized, a freshly-showered and shaved Logan had joined her with a cup of coffee. "For you."
"You're the best husband a girl could ask for." It was an offhand, casual comment, but her voice-loving and soft-told him she meant it.
"I love you too, Veronica." Leaning over to deliver a gentle kiss, he cupped her chin, and caressed her cheek with his thumb. "I won't be gone long," he promised.
And he wasn't.
Veronica took advantage of the silence to review and start a list of loose threads, which she could pull at in search of a lead.
-Chloe. The dancer who was visibly upset by Karen's death. Did she actually quit, or was she missing? Get address from personnel file.
-Karen's missing burner phone.
Veronica scratched that one off. Both the phone and its call log were no longer of importance. Karen had probably called Siobhan to cut her ill-fated deal, and that was a dead end. She winced at the word choice, then added, Siobhan's phone records, to her list.
If Veronica could figure out who Siobhan had been talking to in the days prior to her death, then maybe she could find an accomplice that might be willing to talk?
-Ask Mac about cloud account
-Research numbers from desk calendar
-Accountant.
She drummed her pencil on the pad. Steven Haverly was probably best left to the FBI. They were already looking into the money laundering, and pressure from Special Agent Townsend would carry more weight than she could exert. Veronica left him on the list anyway and grabbed the banking records from Gil.
The alarm beeped and a few seconds later, Logan appeared in the dining room, his face ashen, with a quiet rage simmering just below the surface.
"That was quick," she ventured, hesitant, unsure what the fast return and bad temper meant. Did Pam confess to Tyler being his? Did she refuse the test?
"I took your advice and started at the house down the street- she has been staying there." He threw himself into the chair next to her. He was fidgety, his hands curling into fists, then uncurling, and his knee jumping with barely-restrained anger. "She was patching holes in the drywall."
Surprising, but not enough to warrant this reaction. Veronica touched his leg. "What's wrong?"
"Pam will tell you," he said, springing from his chair and starting to pace. "She's on her way here now."
"Logan…"
He shook his head. "She has to be the one to tell you." More pacing, like a caged animal who wanted to escape. In Logan's case, it was his own head he was trying to flee. She knew this on a visceral level. Whatever Pam's news might be, it was yet another thing he'd rather forget.
Veronica chewed her bottom lip. "Why don't you-"
"I'm going outside to work on the garden. I'll bring the baby monitor with me and get the girls when they wake up, so you won't be interrupted." Without waiting for her to agree, he left.
It took her a minute to process his abrupt departure. If Pam's news concerned their family, he wouldn't leave her to deal with it alone. No, this was something else. Something not good. A sharp knock on the door stopped her musings, and with a sneaking suspicion creating a knot in the pit of her stomach, she went to admit Pam.
"Hey Veronica," she said. Dressed casually in cut-off shorts and a tank top, hair pulled into a hasty bun, Pam was still drop-dead gorgeous. Even the specks of white paint on her forehead and the glob of joint compound on her cheek didn't detract from her beauty. But the hunted and hollow look in her eyes touched a nerve with Veronica- she knew that expression. "Can we talk out here so I can smoke?"
"Sure." Veronica paused on the threshold. "Do you want coffee first?"
"Wine?" Pam suggested instead, and Veronica nodded.
Leaving her on the porch with the door open, in case she wanted to follow, Veronica went to get a chilled bottle and two glasses. When she returned, Pam was seated on the top step, staring at the ocean in the distance.
Veronica sat next to her, then busied herself with opening and pouring the wine. She passed Pam a glass, and watched as the other woman took a long, bracing sip.
A small eternity passed with neither of them speaking.
Finally, Pam put the glass down next to her and lit a cigarette. "Logan isn't Tyler's father." A pained smile. "If only…" She shook her head, wistful. "I was raped at the casino in Vegas."
In between long drags of her cigarette, she told the story. It was a different VIP room in a different city. She was dealing for a private poker game. At the end of the night, the game's biggest loser decided he deserved a consolation prize. "It's ironic, right? I quit working in the sleazy strip clubs for this upscale job at the casino, and that's where it happens."
"I'm sorry, Pam."
This explained why Pam had insisted on being at the private parties and showed such vehemence about having to protect the girls- she'd wanted to make sure the same thing didn't happen to any of them. It also explained why she'd left Vegas, if not the timing of it.
"Logan came to Nellis a couple of weeks later-Red Flag Exercises at the base." Pam's eyes were on the water, but they were unfocused, her gaze turned inward at the past.
"But you didn't tell him." It wasn't a question.
"No, but I did sleep with him because… " Pam snubbed out her cigarette and lit a new one. "There's this thing about sex with him." She smirked. "I don't need to tell you what he's like in bed, but… he's assertive and confident, and yet-" Now she shifted in her seat to look at Veronica. "You feel safe with him, you know? He wouldn't do anything you didn't want, and he'd never hurt you. I…I needed that."
It was strange to discuss her husband this way, but Veronica understood. It was in the way Logan touched you. Even when he took control, you still knew you were in charge. That he would stop the instant you wanted him to. It didn't even have to be with words. If you tensed because something made you uncomfortable, he backed off. He was so in tune with his partner- he never demanded more than you were willing to give. Sex wasn't good for him, if it wasn't good for you.
"If it was only a couple of weeks later, then Logan could-"
"Being back on the base felt good," Pam continued, as if Veronica hadn't spoken. She was still focused on her story. This might be the first time she was confiding in anyone, and Veronica had to let her finish in her own way and at her own pace.
She remembered how good it had felt to share her story with Wallace, while he just listened. Patience was not one of her virtues, but there would be time for questions later. For now, she would have to emulate Wallace and provide emotional support.
"It was comforting." A brittle laugh passed her lips. "I'm sure being on a secure facility, surrounded by men with guns, helped with the feeling of safety." Pam used the butt of her cigarette to light the next one. "So when I found out I was pregnant, I went to live with my father. He was pretty good about it." Her surprise at this fact was evidenced in her voice. "Of course I considered having an abortion, but…" She frowned. "The pregnancy helped heal this rift between me and my dad. We were talking, you know? Really talking about the past, my mom- Tyler was her maiden name."
Her focus shifted to Veronica in an attempt to gauge her reaction, searching for signs of judgment. Whatever she saw in Veronica's expression must have reassured her.
"I half-convinced myself that Logan was the father. I went to Chicago to tell him about the baby, but even before I got there, I knew I couldn't." Her troubled gaze moved restlessly, first over Veronica, then to her wine and the cigarette she was holding, and finally back to the water. "It wasn't fair. He was with Carrie-rebuilding his life. I couldn't just breeze in there and drop this bombshell, especially since I knew it wouldn't matter to him."
"What?" Veronica was incredulous. There was NO WAY he wouldn't care. All versions of Logan-past jackass, Naval aviator, current dad-would totally do the right thing by a child, and Veronica couldn't believe Pam would think otherwise.
"That came out wrong. I meant it wouldn't matter to him whether the baby was his or not; he'd want to help me either way." She flicked away her cigarette and picked up the pack, shaking the loose Marlboros inside, trying to judge how many were left. There must've been enough because she lit another. "In the state of Nevada, a rapist actually has parental rights. Can you believe that shit?"
Veronica nodded. It was the same in California. Unless the rapist was actually convicted of the sexual assault, you couldn't terminate his rights to his child.
"Logan would put his name on Tyler's birth certificate, regardless of paternity, just to keep that scum from making claims on my child. I knew he would do it without question, which is why I couldn't ask."
Pam's horrified reaction to Veronica's question from days ago, 'does Tyler get to spend time with his father', now made complete sense. As did the look of fear, when Keith mentioned custody arrangements over dinner.
"That's why you left Vegas- to hide Tyler's existence."
She blew out a long stream of smoke. "We lived with my father first, but when he passed away, and I had to leave the base, I just… I couldn't stay in town. I didn't want to go back to stripping, and I certainly couldn't return to the casino."
"And Tyler's also the reason you've stayed away from Logan."
Pam nodded. "I wouldn't have darkened your doorstep now, either, if it wasn't for Sam. He scares me, Veronica."
"We're going to get you free of him and the club," Veronica pledged. There was no way she could ask Pam to do the undercover work now. But she also couldn't do it herself; she'd promised Logan. Maybe he could continue on as bouncer, and…
"I did a rapid HIV test after the attack, and took a course of antibiotics to prevent STDs- my doctor prescribed them without too many questions." Her smile was humorless, as she said, "After all, what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. But I took the pregnancy test at home, and it was positive before I slept with Logan."