Flashback to San Diego later in the evening.

We took a taxi home. It cost $173.53. Logan paid. We were too drunk to care.

It pulls up out the front of Logan's apartment, and we stumble out like a bunch of college kids. I trip and fall into a bush, my shoe falling off.

"Veronica, always so graceful," an outstretched hand drags me up off the ground. My veins pulsed as his fingers took mine. It's like a jolt of electricity. The sparks start tingling through me.

I slip my shoe back on.

He unlocks the door, and we go inside. Heading to the kitchen and taking out a whiskey bottle and some clean glasses, "Welcome to my humble abode, make yourself at home," he is still playing the game. He's still fishing. I'm still his bait. I can feel him starting to reel me in. I'm nearing the boat.

"It's nice," I play along, "a little rich-boy-bachelor-pad for my liking, but I'm sure it fits a purpose" I hold onto the kitchen bench to steady myself. I kick off my heels to try and help ground me.

He passes me the whiskey, and we clink glasses in cheers, "to new friends." His smile is broad, his eyes glassy. He is swaying a little, or is it me?

All I can feel is his presence. It's warm. Familiar. His smell, it's everywhere, like the ocean and salt and I want to lick his skin, to taste it. I take a deep breath to try and slow my heart rate down a little.

"Do you want to watch a movie or something?"

I shake my head. Its 2.30 am. Watching a movie is the last thing I want to do. What I want to do and what I should do are two very different things. I should put my shoes back on. I should go home to my husband. I should walk away from this man. But, I want to stay. Forever.

"Logan, pass me your phone."

He eyes me quizzically, but obeys. Reaching across the counter and handing it to me.

"Unlock it."

Grinning, he obeys.

I open up the timer and press stop 302:17.

"Hey!" he sees what I'm doing and reaches for the phone. I pull it away. "What are you doing? I'm going for a record!"

"What record?"

"Longest fish ever."

I roll my eyes and pass him the phone back.

"I don't want to play anymore Logan. I want to be us," I gesture between us.

"Us?"

"Veronica and Logan," I confirm.

I move a little closer to him. He mirrors me and inches closer again, his eyes have grown the dark shade that I recognize, and he doesn't blink or speak, holding my gaze.

I repeat myself, almost a whisper this time. I'm afraid I'll lose my nerve, "I want to be us."

In a heartbeat he is there, forehead pressed against mine. Eyes burning me with their hunger. I understand entirely. I'm starving. I can feel him, hesitating, fighting with himself a neverending battle. I wrap my arms around his neck, looping my fingers together and drag his lips towards mine.

Why is it like this with him?

Like… completion?

He presses me up against the counter, and I wrap my legs around his waist, drawing him to me. Our kisses are messy and desperate. I feel like I'm floating. I grab at his shirt and force it over his head.

Before it's entirely off, he's back, lips against mine, tongue grazing against my own. His skin is hot to touch, and his smell is more profound now, it's making me dizzy.

He tries to pick me up, but I lose my grip and slide halfway down his torso, he fumbles with my legs and lifts me again, staggering through the hallway, hitting my ankle against one of the walls.

I ponder for a moment if this is a bad idea, are we too drunk? Of course we are. But, then I have to admit to myself that this is the whole reason I drink with Logan. I drink to lose my inhibitions, hoping that maybe he will too. I drink so I can forget about Duncan, forget about my current life. I drink knowing that this may happen, wanting it to happen but lacking the sober courage to take action. Lastly, I drink so that I have an excuse in the morning, a reason for my behavior.

I am a terrible person.

I know.

But I fail to care.

I lose myself in Logan, he's inside me, and it's the best moment of 5 years of my life.

The obstetrician's office is littered with spliced models of the human reproductive system. While I lay on the table awaiting her to return, I stare at the model of the female pelvis, little beans morphing into babies inside. My heart rate quickens just looking at it.

The door clicks open and she reappears, positioning herself on the swivel chair beside me and takes the ultrasound wand in her hand, depositing the freezing cold jelly on my abdomen.

I'm silent.

"You can breathe," she reassures me with a smile, and I let out the breath I didn't realize I was holding.

She resumes her search of my insides, finally settling on a small mass of black inside a bigger mass of grey on the monitor. None of it resembles anything I'd expected.

"There's the little nugget," she points to the screen.

It's a dot, a little black dot, but it's moving. Vibrating back and forth, a heartbeat.

"102 beats per minute."

"How far along?" I ask because I've never done this before, never got this far. I need to know for sure.

She measures it with a little ruler device on the screen, both sides.

"I would say somewhere between six, seven weeks."

I nod, letting the words sink in. Of course, I knew, but I wasn't sure I was ready to confront this new reality.

She pulls off the wand and wipes my stomach clean.

"Why now? Why after all that IVF, does it happen now?" I shake my head, confused by it all.

She shrugs, "I wish I knew, if I knew I'd be the richest obstetrician in the world. Sometimes, all the anatomy stars align at just the perfect time in just the perfect settings. Your ovulation was probably still stimulated from all the injections. I see it often, when you stop trying, suddenly you relax, and nature does what it knows best."

Hopping off the table, I pull on my underwear and jeans.

"Duncan will be thrilled, I bet," she says, turning off the monitor.

I hesitate for a moment. Of course, she thinks its Duncan, she's been here through all of this with us. Why wouldn't it be Duncan?

I don't know what to say. This happens a lot at the moment, when I have to say these things to people I know, then the way they look at me changes. I'm tainted in their eyes.

Like Wallace, like Dad, even Mac sometimes.

"Duncan and I have split, this isn't…" I don't finish the sentence, but she nods, understanding, a little O forming on her lips.

"Well, then that explains it all the more. Different couple, different circumstances."

I smile, as much as I can muster.

"Try to be happy Veronica, maybe it's not the path you envisioned for your family, but it will be your family, in eight short months."

I thank her and leave the offices. That's the problem, I am happy, I'm so fucking happy I don't know how to function, how to express it. But that happiness is hinged on telling one person about this life inside of me, and now I just need to find him.

On the drive home, the word she said floats around in my head, it's one that I never really thought of with Logan, but I enjoy the way it sounds, I say it out loud.

"Family."

I turn up at Mac's door and knock.

She lives in a beautiful architecturally designed house about 10 minutes from the beach. There are bikes strewn near the door and a helmet nearby beside a potplant.

I can hear the kids running around on the floorboards, fighting.

The door opens, "Veronica," Mac is surprised. I don't usually do day visits. "Come in, come in."

We walk through the hallway, stepping over toys and a box of opened raisins towards the kitchen.

"Do you want a coffee?"

I shake my head.

"What's going on?" she turns and looks at me, studying me, "Are you okay?"

I shake my head again. I can't seem to form words.

She grabs my hand and pulls me into her office, a small room just off the kitchen and closes the door and locks it.

"This is the only room in the house with a proper lock. The kids can't find us in here."

I lean onto her desk.

"Is it Duncan? Did something happen?"

I'm afraid. Scared to tell her. She is the only friend who is still speaking to me. Once I tell her the truth I'm worried she'll cut me off too.

"I'm pregnant."

Her hands fly to her open mouth in shock, "Oh my God, Veronica!" She is ecstatic and jumps forward to wrap me in a hug, jumping up and down.

"How did it happen, oh my god! This is amazing!" Mac has been with me through it all, all the ups and downs, all the disappointment. She sees this purely as a joy to be celebrated.

"It's not Duncan's."

She stops jumping. Her hand goes back over her mouth.

"Oh."

I nod

"Logan?"

I nod again.

"When?"

"San Diego."

"You casually left that out when you told me about that day," a little bitter.

"We got very drunk. Very very drunk. I wasn't exactly proud of it. And it happened just before Duncan found out about the other time, so everything kind of became a blur."

"Fuck," she starts pacing around the room.

"I haven't heard from Logan since it happened. He's been avoiding me completely or away for work or something. I don't know!" Tears start to form, and I pull at my face in frustration.

"Fuck!"

"Yep, that pretty much sums it up."

She pulls out her phone and starts scrolling. Mac is a do-er. She takes action. I like that. I felt like I was useless, powerless.

The phone is at her ear. What the hell is she doing? I can only hear her side of the conversation.

"Hey, how's it going?

Oh you know kids running around while I'm trying to work, the usual.

What have you been up to lately?

Awesome.

So I'm calling because I've got a possible job for you through some work contacts. It's pretty high security though so I can't really discuss it on the phone. Can you come around to my place?

Tonight?

Sure, great yeah, I'll see you then.

Bye"

She hangs up the phone.

"Good News! He's coming around this evening."

Fuck.

Alone, sitting on the gutter, I waited for him.

It was dark. The evening was still warm, so I don't need a jacket. Wearing just a plain black t-shirt and jeans, I realize I forgot to brush my hair this morning.

I nervously pick at the skin on my fingers, digging into them, a pit of dread resting at the bottom of my stomach, churning.

Feeling steamrolled into this didn't help my nerves. But, Mac was right. I needed to do this. He needed to know.

Headlights beam in my face, and his car pulls up on the other side of the drive. Lights dimming he gets out and strolls over to me, as tall and as handsome as ever.

"Just a regular Thursday night for you hey, hanging in the gutter?" he teases and folds himself in half to sit next to me, nudging me on the arm. He's nervous.

That's okay, so am I. There is a lot to be nervous about.

"I guessed you might be here, to be honest."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I smelled a rat. Mac didn't really sell me on the phone."

I nod.

"Do you realize how horrible it feels having to get my friend to trick you into seeing me?" I question, staring at his face.

He hangs his head and looks at the ground.

"V. What option did I have?"

"You could stop running away and talk to me."

"I'm not running away."

I raise my eyebrows at him, challenging his statement.

He exhales slowly and looks up at the sky, "I didn't mean to do this. To come back and ruin everything."

"Why did you come back? Really? And don't say for the business."

"I thought five years would be enough. I was under the misguided notion that five years would somehow void everything before and I could come back, and be a friend and just be Logan." He pauses, "But it seems I've come back and made things even worse."

I don't speak because I can't find words in my throat.

"I am a terrible friend to you - to Duncan. I've broken up my marriage because of it and now probably yours." He runs his hand through his hair, frustration in his voice. "I'm so fucking ashamed of myself, I'm embarrassed. I'm sorry. But I can't be around you. I can't do this anymore."

I fight back the tears.

"Why?" comes out as a whisper.

He groans. "You know why."

"Why?" I'm getting louder. I need to hear it.

"I can't be around you because I love you. And I keep sleeping with you. I try not to. I try so fucking hard. I've only been back for four months for God's sake. But you're you." He stands up from the gutter and starts pacing. "I don't know how to stay away, so it's just easier for me, better for everyone if I just, I don't know. Clean break… again?"

He said it.

Love.

My hands start shaking. I fold them together to try and stop it. I needed to hear that, to know I wasn't crazy. He felt it too.

I don't know what to say. We seem to keep bouncing back to each other at every turn, I convinced myself it was just lust. But, if it was, why couldn't I stop thinking about him? Five years, over 1800 days and I still thought about him every single day.

Logan continues, "I told Parker everything, not long after it happened. She suspected something after I told her we couldn't go to the wedding. I made her lie… about my deployment," he hands scratch at his head. "And because I made her lie, it made her want the truth more."

I wince, realizing how much pain I caused in their marriage, not just my own.

"So I told her about it, but I said that it meant nothing to me. She's not stupid, she knew. Man was she mad, but she was also embarrassed too and wanted us to work it out. So I agreed. But, then I realized I didn't really want to work it out. So, I did what I do best… I acted like a fucking idiot, went out every night. Drank myself into oblivion. I couldn't cope, with what I'd done, and with what I'd lost. What did you used to call it?"

I muse, "destruction mode."

He nods, "Yeah, destruction mode. Thankfully this time I didn't wrap myself around a tree. In the end, she was more than happy to leave me."

I stare at the road.

"When you text me that Parker had told Duncan I wasn't surprised at all. I knew when I saw her at Duncan's party that it was a likelihood. She may have moved on, but the anger was still there, at me and at you too."

Poor Parker. I felt terrible. No wonder he wanted to self destruct.

"Why did you marry her?" I ask, taking advantage of his sudden honesty.

He pauses, and then laughs a little bitterly.

"You want the truth?"

I nod.

"Because I couldn't have you."

My breath hitches with the realization that what I'd suspected had always been true. We'd both lived a life of lies. And for what? To end up right at the beginning again, with a pile of destroyed lives in our wake?

We sit in silence for a while. Processing, assessing the carnage that we caused.

But from that carnage, a life was created, and I need to tell him. I need to be brave.

"Logan, I'm pregnant."

He freezes, staring at me.

"Wow," he stutters, taking a few steps backward "Congratulations."

My heart is beating so loud I'm sure he can hear it.

He folds himself down next to me and puts his hand gently on my leg. "There you go, that's why I need to go. Be out of the picture so you can Duncan can start fresh."

"Logan," I pause and take his hand, "I haven't slept with Duncan in over 11 months. Our last IVF round was 18 weeks ago. I'm six weeks pregnant."

His eyelashes flutter as I can see him computing in his head.

"Logan, the baby is yours."

He covers his face with his hands and puts his head between his legs, rocking back and forth.

My heart is in my throat.

He finally peels his hands away and looks at me, his eyes wet with tears.

"You're serious?"

I nod.

"Duncan and I are over. We ended it. He's gone. It's done. To be honest, its been done for a long time. Long before he left."

His hands run up and down his legs over and over. He's processing.

The truth was I hadn't thought past telling Logan. All I knew is that he needed to know. He was in this shit-show with me whether he liked it or not.

"But I thought you couldn't..." he hesitates.

"Get pregnant?"

I shrug. There was never a diagnosed 'problem' it just was a problem, conceiving. Maybe all along, the universe knew that with Duncan it just wasn't right?

But I don't say that. Everything is a little too fresh, too raw.

His dark caramel eyes smile a little in the light of the streetlights. He reaches over and takes my hand in his, tracing up and down my knuckles. "This isn't the way I wanted us to start, with the breakup of your marriage and an unplanned pregnancy… but, I guess I'll take it," his smile is broad now.

I love the way he says 'us.'

How strange that, all of a sudden, one word could make me so sure of my true place in the world.

His fingers continue to circle, and I momentarily forget that we're sitting in a gutter, in the dark, in Neptune of all places. Two adulterers, having to deal with the realities of their lies, and this was only just the beginning.

"So what are we going to do here?" he asks tentatively.

"I have no idea."

He starts to laugh, and I can't help but follow.

This situation is so awkward it borders on ridiculous. I guess all we can do is laugh.

He settles, "Is it bad that I feel both terrible and fantastic at the same time?"

"I know the feeling." On paper, my life is falling apart, but I'm happy for the first time in a long time.

Logan hesitates for a moment, "I feel more fantastic than terrible."

He whispers against my knuckles and gently kisses my hand over and over again—tiny little kisses, tracing the back of my hand. My blood warms, it feels divine.

"Me too."