Chapter 4

I made coffee, pushed down my toast and spread peanut butter on it.

One thing at a time.

The house was quiet, and I didn't know if Logan was awake yet. 7.27 am. The sun was already beaming through the windows and promising to heat up the already stifling rooms, so I put the toast on a plate and sat out on the balcony trying to get some breeze.

The front door closed. Logan strolled in, earphones in and wearing workout clothes. Sweaty.

I suddenly felt sweaty too.

He glances around and spots me on the balcony.

"Hey, I forgot how great it is to run around here, nothing but endless miles of beach," he pulls out his headphones and rests them around his neck.

"It's already so hot. I don't know how you can do it!" I say, fanning myself.

He smiles. His hands grab the bottom of his singlet and pull it up to wipe the sweat off his face. It is a move that takes all of about 2 seconds, but I'm sure time stood still. He is so muscular now, so lean. His shorts are slung low on his hips, and I can see the dusting of hair on his chest leading all the way down. I fan herself harder and look out to sea.

"There's coffee in the pot if you want some," pointing inside.

Please go inside.

Months of no sex has turned me into a total lush.

"Sure I'll grab some in a minute," he pulls up a chair and sits next to me, casually. "Duncan sure left early this morning. I thought I heard the door close at 5.30."

I nod, "Yep, he always gets into the office by 6, Mr. Organized."

"And what do you do with yourself now Ms. Mars, still a super sleuth?"

"Mrs. Kane," I corrected, "God that sounds horrible, it makes me think of Celeste."

Logan shudders.

"I mainly do freelance super-sleuthing now. A couple of years ago Mac put me in touch with some friends at some Law Firms in San Diego. So I'm on retainer with them to do investigative work for large lawsuits when they need it. I go down there once or twice a fortnight depending on what they need from me. Mostly I work from home."

"Sounds like a pretty good deal. Hopefully, you're dealing with some slightly more savory characters than you did in your younger years?"

"Yeah, mainly white-collar crime. It's pretty boring stuff, digging into files, public records, tax records. Most of the time, I'm chasing a money trail, not a human trail."

"So no more motorcycle gangs, murders, tracking illicit affairs?" he raises his eyebrows.

"Nope. Just plain old vanilla crime," I drink the dregs of my coffee, avoiding eye contact.

"What about you, Mr. Echolls, what does 'Private Security' entail?"

"Oh, you know. I'm probably going to be the person hired by your white-collar criminals as security detail. Mainly high profile security cases, dealing with large event security logistics. That sort of thing. As you might say, plain old vanilla security. Nothing too risky." He winks.

I nod, strongly doubting his business risk analysis.

He glances at his watch, "Shit, I've gotta go. I'm going to jump in the shower." Bouncing from his chair and leaving me on the balcony with a bright smile.

I pick up my plate and coffee cup and headed back to the kitchen.

"What do you think has inspired this sudden return to Neptune?" Mac queries, sticking a fork into her pasta and twirling it around, shoveling it into her mouth.

"He says it's for work, but I don't know, it just seems a bit sudden. Five years of nothing, then he's back. Staying in MY APARTMENT!" I shake my head, "To be honest, it all feels a bit weird, are we all supposed just to pretend he didn't drop off the face of the planet all this time?"

"It certainly felt like he removed himself on purpose."

"Hmmm," I nod between mouthfuls of garlic bread.

"Can I speculate?" Mac asks.

"Nope." I shake my head.

"Are you sure?" she looks at me, knowingly.

"Yes, yes, I'm sure. Let's talk about something else. How are the kids?"

"I CERTAINLY don't want to talk about the kids while I'm enjoying a nice adult lunch with you." More pasta went in, "They're fine by the way, nothing new to report. The usual. Fighting, yelling, mess, meh."

I know Mac doesn't like talking much about the kids with me.

Mac could tell what I was thinking about, "are you okay? Really? Are you going to try another round of IVF?"

I shook my head. "No, the doctor thought that three tries were as good as an option as any; we were pushing it by going for four rounds. I don't think it's going to happen this way for us. Maybe we need to start looking for a surrogate? I don't know," I sighed. "We're about $75,000 down at the moment. We're going to have to save up a bit more before we can even think about going down that route."

"Wow," blanched Mac. I nod.

"I think I need a rest from it all. The hormones, the waiting. It's just all stress. I need to try and relax, think about something else for a change."

Mac smirks.

"Maybe, Veronica, the universe knew exactly what it was that you needed and sent it right to your doorstep?"

I feign shock, hand to my heart.

"You're a cheeky little bitch, aren't you?"

She cackles. "Oh, don't tell me you hadn't thought of it already."

Maybe I had. Maybe I hadn't?

I open the door, put my handbag down on the bench and am greeted up close by Logan.

"Mars, where have you been?"

I am a little shocked, "Lunch with Mac, did I need permission?"

"No, no, no. Sorry," he settles himself "I've just had a call to go and look at some office space downtown. I've got to admit; I'm not great at making decisions and sizing things up. You've run a business before, you know what to look for. Will you come?"

He puts on his super-please face. Doe eyes pleading.

How do you say no to that?

"Sure, let's do it," I grab my handbag and follow him down the hall.

We walk through the car lot. I start looking around for the Xterra. Force of habit. He leads me over to a black Chrysler.

"What are you smirking about?" He queries.

"Oh, nothing. This seems much more subdued than I'm used to. A lot less … yellow."

He pats the roof. "This, my dear, is a rental. I still have to buy a car. Parker got mine in the divorce, and I haven't needed one since I was never home."

We got inside. "But thank you for reminding me," his hands circled the steering wheel, "I might have to go back to my roots and get a nice big truck," I roll my eyes dramatically.

"Is that really appropriate for a partner in an undercover security agency?"

He starts the engine, "Good point Mars. See, that's why I'm bringing you along today. You can be my voice of reason."

"Oh, Goodie."

We drive downtown. The traffic isn't terrible, and we make good time. Logan chats, effortlessly. Not stopping. He talks like no time was ever lost, as if he'd just been on holiday and returned. I realize that in reality, he knows very little about my life now. He doesn't know anything about what I'd been through in the last five years. Dare I say it, but I wasn't the same person then. To be honest, I'm not sure I know who I am now. Logan doesn't seem to mind, though. He seems to think I was still the same old Veronica Mars and treats me as such. So maybe, just today, I would enjoy the simple old-school banter and relax.

He pulls into the car park of a double story office building located in a small industrial estate. A nice quiet area. Not much graffiti. The real-estate agent leans against his car, waiting with phone in hand. We step out of the vehicle.

"Logan Echolls?" the agent asks, holding out his hand.

"Daniel, nice to meet you," Logan's voice switches instantaneously, he is now in business-mode. "This is Veronica," he gestures to me, and Daniel shakes my hand.

"Come on through guys. I'll show you around." We follow him through the roller door into the main warehouse area as he sprouts feet squared, space and storage options. I look around. It seems nice and spacious. He takes us through the office rooms, five in total with a large central area, reception space and lunchroom. Logan is stalking around the space, inspecting, asking lots of crucial questions. I blink twice when I see him take out a small notepad and jot down room measurements and notes for his business partner.

I guess a lot has changed since I had known him last. He had always been quite frivolous, growing up a privileged and excessively wealthy son of a movie star. Even in college, he floated through life, one fun escapade to the next. After he lost his inheritance and trust fund, he was forced to make some hard decisions. They certainly seem to have paid off. A life in the navy, a decorated fighter pilot. I guess, I just didn't know this Logan. I hadn't had exposure to him over the years. My brain was taking some time to equate Logan then and Logan now.

I had to admit. Logan now was growing on me.

I just wished I got to see the interim.

"I'll give you some time to chat to the wife, feel free to take your time and I'll meet you back in the lot," Daniel says and walks out the door.

Logan looks at me, eyebrows raised and wiggling. "Wife, eh?"

I glare back at him, "You wish."

The corner of his mouth cracks into a smirk.

"What do you think?" he paces out the room dimensions with long strides and writes more figures on his notepad.

"Looks good to me. Clean, no evidence of rodents, nice and spacious, easy access. How many people do you think will work in the office?"

"Most of the other satellite offices run on about 5 – 6 staff, so we're planning to start with myself and two others until we can secure some more contracts."

"Sounds like it's perfect then."

Nodding he and scopes out the rooms one more time, taking photos and returns to find me in the lunchroom. "Well, wife, shall we go?"

"What are they asking for rent?"

"I think $4500 a month."

I follow him out to the parking lot.

Daniel is waiting, playing with his phone again.

"Thoughts?"

Logan steps forward, "I think it would suit us perfectly, can we get the paperwork for me to run past my partner?"

"How long has it been vacant for?" I interrupt.

Daniel flinches a little. "I'm not sure," he looks through his paperwork quickly. Flicking pages, "Since….. about nine months."

"Nine months?" I repeat, feigning shock "that's a long time unoccupied. Personally, I think $4500 a month is asking too much."

Daniel looks to Logan, then gives me a brief sideways glance. A deep grin is forming on Logan's face.

"Also, I saw some wiring in the warehouse that looked questionable at best, that would need to be replaced. It's a fire hazard, and there's no way we'd be able to get an insurance inspector past that."

Logan leans back on the car. He's giving me full reign to take the lead on this one.

Daniel's demeanor hardens. He was expecting an easy day. "I'll have to speak with the owners, I'm not sure about the price, they said it's firm."

"Well, give them a call now," I turn to Logan, "Logan, when can you take over the lease?"

He thinks for a moment. "We're ready immediately."

"Great, we can occupy as soon as we can get the paperwork settled. I think $4000 a month is a fair price, and on the condition of an electrician fixing the wiring and pest inspection," The estate agent looks to me, then to Logan. Back to me. Finally, he dials his phone and walks to the corner of the lot to make the call.

"We?" Logan muses, clearly amused.

I shrug, "Hey, you wanted me to be your wife."

His face beams. "See, this is why I brought you along. You're made for this."

Logan and I stand, he leans against the car. His body so long. We don't speak, he just looks at me. It's awkward, but, I like it.

Daniel returns after some negotiating. "Okay if you can occupy within the week, two months rent in advance they will accept your offer."

They shake on it, and he leaves with promises to email over the paperwork this afternoon.

"Can I buy you a drink to say thanks."

"I guess you could twist my arm," because, of course, how does one say no to a drink with Logan Echolls?

I'm not ready to go home, not yet.

We drive through downtown and back to the beach, pulling up next to a row of restaurants and coffee shops across the road from the water. I know exactly where Logan was taking me. We walk in silence to one of our old hangouts 'Sarge's'. As a group, we would regularly frequent it, always packed with college students, half-price Fridays, and a slack approach to checking ID. It was a glorified dive, dark and dingey with peeling, sticky countertops. As we round the corner, we both look around, a little lost.

"Ummm, are we on the right street?" Logan peers up and down the road. The street is almost unrecognizable from our college days.

"Geez, look at it, it's all fancy!" the bar had been opened up, concertina doors opened out to sidewalk tables, soft music playing and a wall of indoor plants spilling out onto the road. It's full of mustached, bearded 20 somethings in button-down pressed shirts drinking espresso martinis.

"Talk about a transformation," Logan muses, hesitating slightly.

"Well, they still sell alcohol so you can still buy me a drink," I walk over and pull up a chair on the sidewalk, glancing at the multiple paged menu consisting of $25 cocktails and tapas. Talk about gentrification.

Logan's eyes dance above his menu at me, "you know you still look exactly the same? it's like you don't age," he leans closer, inspecting my face, fascinated.

I grimace and shrink back away from him. "Oh, boy, you're dreaming. Let's not talk about how many grey hairs I keep having to pull out." He shakes his head, unbelieving.

"Trust me Echolls. It's not pretty. My boobs have dropped at least an inch."

Why? Why did I say that?

He laughs loudly, shaking his entire body.

"No way, I don't believe it. Of course, you could always show me. You know, just to make sure," he smirks and looks down wiggling his eyebrows. There's old logan, back with a vengeance.

I roll my eyes and look back at the menu, choosing to ignore that one.

Safer.

The waiter arrives and we order drinks and a share plate of cheese.

"Why did you really leave the Navy?" I ask, relaxing back into my chair "Sorry if it's a personal question, but I just thought you loved it."

"I did," he pauses, thinking for a moment "you know me, Veronica, you know I'm not much of one for ranking hierarchy. And the higher I got up in ranks, the more people I had to answer to, and the more decisions I felt were out of my control." He stops, taking a deep breath, "There was an accident. One of my men got badly injured, he was paralyzed. In the aftermath, I realized that I just couldn't do it anymore. I felt myself getting angry again. Really angry. When my friend contacted me about private work, it just seemed like the right decision. Time to get away. Just surf, or hang-out, or date normally. "

"Shit, that's terrible Logan."

He nods, looking around the room to avoid eye contact with me.

He swiftly changes the subject. It's clearly still raw. "Okay, if we're playing 20 questions, tell me what it's like to be the Mayor's wife?" he waggles his eyebrows.

I groan. "Yeah, let's be honest. We all knew I was never going to excel in the public eye. It's certainly not my forte."

He dramatically covers his mouth, feigning shock.

"Surely not, Veronica Mars," then pauses, correcting himself, "Kane. Friend to the people, always more than happy to delight her guests with tales of murder, mayhem, debauchery … the pitfalls of 09er life?"

"Duncan mostly goes to the functions solo, I tried for a little while, but I kept saying the wrong things or yelling at the wrong people. It's better if I just stay home. I only go to the big stuff now. He can run the city, and I can live in it. Easy peasy."

"Let's face it. We always knew Duncan was destined for some kind of public life. You can't be a Kane and not be known."

That was true. The Kane name was certainly notorious in Neptune. And now it was my name.

Lucky me.

"Duncan's one of the good ones," Logan smiles. "You know that, he may be a Kane, but he's just a nice guy. And it sounds like you're happy, it sounds like you grew up together and made it work." He pauses, sipping his drink "A good husband," he adds. It floats in the air for a minute. Is it a statement, or a question?

I don't respond and mirror him, taking another drink.

"Were you a good husband?" I look him in the eye, holding his gaze.

He thinks for a moment.

"Not at the time, no," his fingers swirl around the rim of the glass. Concentrating. "I think I was in the wrong place to get married, in my mind, I was too young. We hadn't even lived together. That was bad. We had to get used to being married but also exclusively living together for the first time." He shakes his head, remembering. "She used to wait for me, desperate for me to come back from a tour away, then I'd come home, and bail and go out drinking. Doing stupid things. I wasn't there for her, emotionally. And that was all she ever really wanted."

The waiter brings over the cheeseboard, and we both stare at it. He pauses, waiting for him to leave.

"Did you love her?"

He snaps his head up, then cocks it to the side. Surely he's wondering the sanity of my line of questioning. But I feel his honesty, and I want to keep open this line so I can try and get some answers.

He nods. "Yeah, I think so, at least for most of it. Parker really loved me, which made it harder in a way. No matter what stupid shit I did, how much of an asshole I was, she was still there, she still supported me. Well, for a while at least."

"You know what always got me?" I question, "Why did you marry her that weekend in Vegas? It seemed so left field. At the time you guys just seemed… I don't know. Casual? Then suddenly you're married. We were all so shocked."

Logan chuckles, "You want the truth?"

I nod and wait.

"We were getting ready to fly to Vegas, and that afternoon I was hanging with Duncan, packing stuff for the flight, and he showed me the engagement ring he'd bought you. I don't know. I kind of freaked out. I felt like I'd missed the memo that we were at the marriage age. Then, of course, I do what I always do when I'm confused? Destructive Logan appears. I drink much too much, and I convince my girlfriend that we should get married in Vegas immediately." His eyes roll at his own impulsive behavior.

I touch my hand to my chest, "I always knew Logan that you were a true romantic. Nothing says romance like Neil Diamond as your celebrant."

"I am, aren't I?" that grin.

I think for a moment, "Wait, Duncan didn't propose to me for like six months after your wedding!"

Logan shrugs. "What do I know? I took too little time to decide to get married, and Duncan took too long. Can't win. He was pretty pissed at me that weekend. He told me I stole his thunder,"

"Yeah, that sounds like him. He probably didn't propose just to make a point."

We're silent for a moment. Taking sips from fancy glasses. I notice Logan's hands, and they look so much older. More weathered. I see the scar running down the side of his little finger down past his watchband. One of his many reminders not to drink and drive.

"Did you file for divorce, or did she?"

"Jesus, Veronica," he runs his hands through his hair, "Why do I get the feeling I'm being interrogated?"

I shrug. Because you are.

"She did, officially," he takes a drink.

"Was there a tipping point, or did you just know it was over?"

He picks up the knife and slices into the Brie, placing it on a cracker with a grape and pops it into his mouth. He chews slowly, thoughtfully. Then rubs his fingers together to rid them of crumbs.

"In the end, she couldn't forgive me."

"For what?"

"Cheating on her."

Duncan made an effort to come home early and prepare dinner. No ramen over the sink tonight for me.

Roasted Salmon with baby potatoes and fennel was on the menu. It was quite the fanfare.

I set the table inside as it was a little milder tonight.

"How did you go today?" Duncan queries, placing the full plates in front of us. I had to admit; it looks and smells pretty amazing. Logan's face agreed.

"Excellent. All signed off on the office space. Ronnie here pulled through and harassed the poor man into giving me a good deal."

Duncan's eyebrows raised and looks at me "I've still got it," I reassure him with a smile.

"I never doubted you, love," he puts his hand on mine and pats it. I see Logan look away, focusing on his salmon.

Duncan is treading carefully with me. Every time we had another negative pregnancy test, he became softer, gentler, treating me a little like a glass that may slip out of his fingers and smash at any moment. To be honest, I felt that way sometimes myself. But, of course, when we have been through this process multiple times, all I can feel is resentment. It grates on me, and even thinking about it makes the tendons in my neck tense.

The evening is filled with much more light, reminiscent conversation. We'd had enough serious talk over lunch. Beer and wine flow freely. Duncan starts to recount the thrilling tale of his first election win, "against all the odds," as he likes to tell it, and that's my cue to get up and clear the table.

"Don't Veronica," Logan's hand is on mine, "You guys have given me a place to crash, the least I can do is the dishes," he takes them from my hands, so I sit back down and pour another wine. Duncan collects the glasses while they move into the kitchen.

I can hear them, "So are you seeing anyone, since Parker?" Asks Duncan. "No," Logan pauses. "I was with someone for a little while, Samantha, but it just wasn't going anywhere. I'm getting to the point I need someone who I want to be in it for the long haul."

"Look at you, Logan Echolls, wanting to settle down? Man, if I told the Logan I knew in high school that you were the first of us to get married and the one who wants to settle down for the 'long haul' you would have punched me." Duncan grins with disbelief.

Logan sighs, "I would have punched myself," they laugh, dishes clanging into the dishwasher.

"What's Parker doing now?"

"She's got a new guy, Matt. He seems nice. They've got a one-year-old girl, Callie."

"That's good. I always had time for Parker; she was a good egg." Duncan comes back in and collects the napkins. Logan nods.

"What about you guys?" Logan follows Duncan in, "Are kids on the table for the future?"

It's an innocent question. When people ask they're just being nice, making conversation.

Duncan gives me a trepidatious side-eye.

I nod, permitting him to share.

"We've been trying, for a few years now," he pauses and puts his hand reassuringly on my shoulder, "we might start looking at surrogate options soon."

I groan and escape from under his arm, "let's not get ahead of ourselves." I open another bottle of beer. Logan, brows raised seems to feel the animosity on the subject.

He eyes me with sympathy, "Sorry guys, I didn't mean to."

"No, no. It's fine, really. It's just been a long road, and it's mostly filled with shitty times and shitty medical tests and money down the drain. So we're just tired of it, tired of thinking about it, tired of talking about it." I take a big gulp of my beer and turn my face away. I don't want to look at either of them.

Duncan sits down and takes a deep breath. "Okay, enough depressing talk." He rubs his hands together, changing the subject. "I want to know something about you Logan."

Concern shadows Logan's face, masked with a raised brow. "Okay."

"I want to know why you felt like not only ditching the wedding of your two best friends but then falling off the face of the planet for five years. Did we do something?"

Logan pauses, his eyes meeting mine ever so briefly.

Yes Logan, why did you bail?