"Motifs, designs, themes, prints, ugh!" She collapsed on the sofa in a pile of frustration. "I thought he would never shut up."
She barely noticed how gingerly Logan perched himself on the coffee table across her. His fingers locked; he looked - fidgety. "Well, we could always - cancel."
"Huh?"
What?
He looked up at her, schmoopy and sad. "The wedding?"
"What? No!" She sat up, scrambling. "That's not what I meant."
"Ah," he said simply. His eyes looked a little less forlorn.
"It's not about whether or not we get married, Lo." She leaned forward to grab his hands. "I just - don't like the actual wedding. We know, like, twenty people in this entire area - why do we even need a big wedding? In my opinion, we'll just head to the city hall and be done with it."
"Ah, but then we wouldn't have met Norman, would we?" His voice had resumed its usual lighter lilt.
She smiled. "And miss his flamboyant charm? Never."
Logan finally laughed a little. "Sorry about getting us an official wedding planner. I mean - I'd always presumed that if we get married, we would - "
He stopped himself short. She squeezes his hands in response. "Yeah, I know. Logan Echolls and his wedding of the century. It's only expected."
"Sorry." He looked down.
"Don't be." She nudged him, prompting him to meet her eye again. "It's an act of sacrifice for you to get into the program - and it can't be helped if some of Logan Echolls is still in that Luke brain of yours."
He smiled as she tapped his forehead with her index finger. "Sorry."
"Don't be - really." She gripped both his hands in her own. She leaned forward, mere inches away from his face. "I never said it's anything bad."
"Really? Could've sworn there was weeping and great sorrow when we got home just - ouch!" He held a hand over the spot where she'd swatted him.
"That's for pushing it, mister."
"Guess we know who's going to wear the pants in the marriage."
"Oh yeah?" She leaned back, hand on her chin in a faux thinking pose. "Let's see - nobody?"
His gaze dropped hungrily to where her free hand was sliding her hemline up her thigh.
"I know you aren't," he practically growled. Then he looked up at her face again. "But let's do something about me."
She held her hands up, open and ready. He plucked her readily off the couch and deposited her on the bed sans clothes in no time.
"If you ever - need - another - job," she panted, hands open on the bed beside her. The chill of the AC was cooling her off at a very insufficient pace. "You should - totally - go pro."
The smile on his face told her he knew exactly what she's throwing back to. She turned over on her side to face him, her hands stroked up and down his bare chest instinctively. "I'm not kidding, you know."
"As long as you're my only client?" He looked down, sweet and boyish, as his fingers found hers. He pressed a kiss on her forehead. "I will not have my PI wife catching me cheating."
"So as long as I don't catch you - "
"No!" He instantly protested, springing up. He propped himself up to a seated position before grabbing her hands again. "Veronica, you have to know, I would never - "
"I know." She smiled up at him. Why she was trusting him this much was a total mystery to her.
But I'm sick of doubting every single thing in my life.
Unless it was Marshall Clark, of course - she still didn't believe in his competence.
"What's wrong?"
She felt Logan's fingers wiping at the creases in her brow.
Oh.
"Sorry - just, thinking."
"About the wedding?"
Guess I could.
She put on a small smile. "I don't mind a big wedding if you want one."
"And I'm fine with city hall."
The simple way he said that warmed her heart. She pulled his hand against her chest. "You feel that? That's a heart beating for you, Lo. It doesn't matter where we get married - as long as we mean it, right?"
He looked hesitant for a short second before he smiled. "Of course - and I mean it, with all my heart, Vee."
"So do I."
Logan smiled again before he threw his head back against the headboard.
He doesn't believe me.
And the thought stung more than she thought it would. It's not like she'd given him any reason to over the years - but, hey, it still hurt.
"Are you sure you don't want the streamers and the flowers and the bridesmaid dresses?" She pulled herself up to sit beside him. There was something oddly intimate about their current positions - two breathless, naked creatures sitting quietly next to each other in bed. She felt closer to him than when they were touching.
His voice came as a reassuring relief. "It's all about the bride, you know."
"Bride?"
"The flowers, the bridesmaids, the fanfare of it all - it's just to make the bride feel special."
"And if the bride actually really wants jeans and sports shirts and city hall?"
"Then so it is." He turned to look at her at last.
At least he actually looks happy now.
She lifted a hand to his jaw. "I love you, Logan."
He smiled - for real. "I love you, Veronica."
She leaned in for a kiss.
"And at least I know ya don't want me for my money," he quipped before their lips met.
"What?" She pulled back a little, hands on his chest.
"Most girls would throw themselves at a guy for much less than a giant wedding."
She laughed. "Really? That's how you conclude I'm not a gold-digger?"
"And how else should I?"
"I dunno. Maybe by giving her a gigantic diamond ring?"
"Biggest I could find." He grinned, smug. "Hey, if you wanted a solitaire - "
"Damn biggest you could find - I know, I know." She laughed. Then she pulled her left hand up between them. "Do you even know how conspicuous this thing looks?
"And what's wrong with declaring my undying love?"
"Money, dude!" She leaned closer, laughing. "Imagine what the boss would say if they thought this is where witsec funds go."
"Whatever. It's my money." He kissed her.
"You still have access?"
"Told you I did."
"I thought you were joking."
"Not about diamonds, I don't." He smiled. "And if Clark asks you why I suddenly retrieved half my funds, tell him it's all Norman's fault. He's the one who wanted us to have a big wedding."
"Ah, the poor guy would be so disappointed. Maybe, for his sake, we should have a big wedding, after all."
"Whatever my wife says." He stole another kiss.
"Not yet!"
"Soon." He grinned.
There was something particularly sweet about sleep after a good, healthy bout of sex. His sleep was so deep, in fact, that it took him three rounds of shaking his head like a dog with fleas before his mind was clear enough to register his surroundings.
Sure enough, the bed was soft, the room dark, and the air chilly. The only thing unusual - was that crack of light on the edge of their bedroom door.
He frowned as his hand instinctively wandered over her side of the bed. His fingers touched empty, rumpled sheets - and while he knew why they were rumpled, he had to know why they were empty.
He pushed himself out of bed, taking a second to find his balance against the groggy fog. Paranoia aside, he knew they were in WITSEC, and that fact alone made them prime targets for danger.
Can never be too careful.
He wandered towards the crack of warm, yellow light. Except for work, they were almost always in each other's company. The fact that she was outside by herself in the middle of a warm, happy night implied pretty strong insomnia. He placed his hands on the edge of the door, ready to pry it open.
"Come on, Clark. It's not that hard, and you know it." Beside their kitchen counter, she was pacing back and forth perpendicularly from his line of sight, phone pressed firmly against her ear. The edge of her pajamas sniffled against the tiled floor. "I won't take 'no' for an answer."
He stole a peek at the mantle clock.
Why three in the morning?
For the most part, Veronica took her check-up calls during breakfast.
"Look, I really, really want this, okay?" Five yards away, his fiancée was barking into her phone. "I need this. Do your hocus-pocus and make it happen."
He could easily imagine what Clark was saying to deepen that frown on Veronica's face. He of all people should know how no one could ever deny her what she wanted.
"Do the paperwork, that's fine. I can wait."
But what was it that she wanted this time?
"Ugh, why are you even asking that? It should be pretty obvious I don't want to be here anymore."
What?
He leaned forward, heart heavy with both the guilt of eavesdropping and the desperation to know what she meant.
He heard every word loud and clear.
"I'm sick of being Vanessa Mason. Just - get me out of here."
"Ah - they're extra fluffy today." She smiled, fork in hand, with her elbow planted on the dining table. Her mouth moved joyously as it chewed her latest bite of homemade pancakes. "Guess whose wife is never going hungry?"
Joyous as she looked - he couldn't force himself to feel the same way.
He smiled back mirthlessly. "I knew you'd like them."
She beamed back at him before looking down to attack the next piece on her stack.
He tried to limit the volume of his sigh. His hands gripped the table's edge a little tighter.
How do I even say this?
He couldn't accuse her of not loving him, or even marrying him. She'd insisted on those facts just the night before.
But what's so bad about being stuck here with me?
He gulped, hand reaching for his milk. He knew he was frowning ostensibly, but he just couldn't help it.
"Pass me the syrup?" Her voice cut through his thoughts.
He looked up, mouth still parched. She was smiling at him, the picture of ease. Why she could sound so nonchalant about breakfast is the biggest insult of all.
"Get it yourself," he snapped without thinking and took off from his seat.
"Lo?"
He huffed a very heavy sigh at the endearment. Sure, she could call him short forms of his name all she wanted.
But it doesn't change the fact that you don't want to be with Luke.
He ignored the burgeoning thought that maybe he didn't want to be Luke either.
"Logan, what's wrong?" Her voice teetered between gentle and firm. She pushed herself away from the table. "Logan?"
"You don't want to be here," he muttered lowly, his back to her.
"What?" She walked closer.
"You don't - you don't want to be here," he repeated bitterly, louder this time.
"Why would you say that?" She sounded - annoyed.
"I know, okay?" He spun around, irate in his pain. "I know you don't want to be here with me."
"That's not true," she denied point-blank. Her hands fly to her hips. "I do want this."
"Oh really?" He struggled momentously to keep the pain from showing in his voice, but it still shook a little. "Then why were you asking Clark to transfer you?"
She looked back at him, dumbfounded. He was tempted to feel minor satisfaction from hitting a nerve - but his actual feelings were hollow and raw. His eyes stung.
"I heard you last night," he found himself explaining. "I thought you had insomnia again and I wanted to help you but I just heard - you asking him."
The thoughts hung heavily between them as they stared down each other. Neither said another word - until she did. "I love you - and I'm not leaving you, Lo."
He hung his head for a bit before looking back up at her.
"What I was asking from Clark - " She sighed loudly before continuing, "that was just - another way to let us happen?"
Us?
"Us?" His own voice sounded small to him. He suddenly felt a tiny tad juvenile.
"If I leave this nightmare - you're leaving too, okay? We're in this together."
He knew he should feel assured, but her calling their engaged life a nightmare sounded a tad too painful.
"You're not leaving me?" He hated how immature he sounded.
"No, I'm not."
You're just not happy here.
"Cool," he mumbled. "That's - good to know."
She smiled sadly at him before stepping up to give him a hug. He hugged her back softly.
"For the record, I am perfectly okay with how we're living now," she mumbled into his T-shirt. "I'm not trying to make this go away."
That's good.
"I know I was born for something greater than this, you know?" She continued, to his dismay. "But I guess - this will have to do."
A/N: A heartfelt 'thank you!' to everyone who has been encouraging me about this story. Your reviews help me endlessly! When I need inspiration, I go back to reading your words...and they allow mine to flow. A big thank you to my faithful, helpful beta irma66. All these chapters will take a lot more time if it weren't for her! Sorry for the angst here. It's necessary for the next turn of page. Please leave your thoughts!