Crazy Little Thing Called Love (27 page)

This was where he should say he was happy for her. But he couldn't force the words past all the things he wished he'd said years ago:
I'm sorry. What can I do to make this right? Don't leave. I don't want a divorce.

I still love you.

“What's your fiancé like?”

“Ted?”

“Ted.”

“He's an ER doctor. Tall. Very good at what he does. We've dated for a couple of years now. And when he proposed, I said yes, because I realized I was ready for marriage again . . . with him.” Her laughter faded almost as soon as it began. “And I love him, of course.”

“Of course.” Logan forced himself to say the right thing. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you. So what about you? Married? A family?”

“No. Julie's tried to play matchmaker a few times through the years. The team even bought me a membership to one of those dating sites for my birthday—”

“Please tell me that was a gag gift.”

“Never asked. And I never used it. Don't tell Caron. She'd get online and fill out my profile for me.”

“I bet she would.”

“So I'm single.” He should add the word “happily,” but there was no sense in lying.

“I hope you find—”

He couldn't let her say it. Didn't want to hear her say it. “Don't, Vanessa.” He rested his hand over hers. “Don't say you hope I find someone else.”

For a moment she let her hand remain beneath his. Her skin soft beneath his fingers.

“I'm sorry, Logan.”

“I'm sorry, too, Vanessa. More than you know. I've told God. Now I can tell you. And it's okay—I'm not asking you to forgive me. I realize it's enough to tell you that I'm sorry so I know you can hear me—that I'm not just talking to the ceiling.”

Logan stared at Vanessa's back, her shoulders rigid beneath her bathrobe. He could only hope she wasn't crying. He hated it when she cried.

He picked up the college acceptance letter from where she'd tossed it on the table.

“Vanessa, I don't understand why you're so upset. Can't you see how great this is—”

She whirled around, not a trace of tears on her face, her eyes flashing like lightning over the Gulf at night. “No, it's not great! You're changing the plan, and you didn't even talk to me about it!”

“I forgot I even applied to OU. It was a long shot. And then we got married—”

“Exactly—we got married.” She stalked a tight circle around the room. “And married people talk about decisions like this.”

“We are talking about it now. We can still go to school together—we'd just be changing colleges.” He held up the letter. “This is an amazing opportunity! Oklahoma is part of Tornado Alley! I can study meteorology and try to hook up with some real storm chasers—”

“We've already got our plan, Logan. We're all set for FSU in the fall. That's why we got married, remember? So I wouldn't have to move back to Colorado with my mom.”

Did she even hear what she was saying?

“We got married because we love each other!”

“I know that—don't make it sound like I'm saying something I'm not!” She grabbed the single sheet of paper from his hand. “But this is not what we agreed on. I don't want to move any more—”

“You're not being logical. We have to move to Tallahassee to go to FSU—”

“A couple of hours down the road. No big deal.” She waved the letter in the air. “OU is ten or twelve hours away—a different state.”

“I can't miss this chance, Vanessa.”

“You can study hurricanes here.”

“They're offering me a full ride—”

“No, Logan.” Vanessa crumpled the letter into a ball and threw it onto the floor. “No. You can't just change the plan like that.”

“Who are you to tell me no?” Logan knew he was yelling, but he didn't care. “You sound like my dad.”

She recoiled from his words, as if he'd slapped her. “I can't believe you just said that to me.”

Silence, sharp with unspoken words, descended between them. Logan paced the small living space, waiting for Vanessa to say something reasonable. Say she understood. Say she was sorry. That of course she'd go to Oklahoma with him because she knew how important this dream was to him. Say she loved him. Finally . . . finally say the words out loud.

But instead, she ran from the small living area into their bedroom, slamming the door. And then he heard the metallic click of the door locking.

Great, just great.

He'd heard of husbands sleeping on the couch. Seen sitcoms where the poor guy tried to find a comfortable position on a too-short sofa.

And now he was sentenced to a night alone with the TV and remote—and a locked door separating him from his wife.

Yeah. Congratulations, Hollister. Aren't you living the life?

•  •  •

At some point, Vanessa needed to go home.

Go back to the little house behind Logan's parents' home and see if Logan was there, waiting for her. Or if he was gone. Again.

“Mindy, you've been great.” She motioned to the leftovers of the full-blown pity party Mindy had hosted for her in her bedroom. A pile of used tissues next to an empty bag of Hershey's Kisses. Empty cans of Coke and a bowl of squeezed lemon slices. A half-eaten bag of Doritos.

“Feel any better?”

“No.” She sniffed. “Sorry.”

“You and Logan will figure this out. You love each other. The class even voted you ‘Cutest Couple' for the yearbook, remember?”

“Yeah, maybe I should just go home and remind Logan about that, too.”

Mindy giggled, her face turning red. “I, uh, heard once you're married, making up is the best part of a fight.”

Logan would have to be home for that to happen. And she wasn't going to tell Mindy that for the past week Logan had come home late from work every night, choosing to sleep on the couch, even though she left the bedroom door unlocked—and wide open.

She should never have locked the door on him after their fight that first night.

All seemed quiet in their apartment when she got to the front door. Would she be spending another night alone, waiting for the sound of Logan's arrival sometime in the middle of the night?

But her husband lay stretched out on the couch, the TV on, but the sound muted. She stopped just inside the doorway.

“I didn't know you were here . . .”

Logan clicked off the TV as he sat up. “Finished work. It's been a long week.”

“Yeah.” She opened the fridge. “Are you hungry? I've got some leftovers—”

“Vanessa.”

She jumped, whirling around, surprised he was close behind her, caught between the fridge and his nearness. She needed to remember she was angry . . . hurt . . .

“I'm a jerk.” Logan pulled her into his arms, away from the refrigerator.

“Yes, you are.” She needed to say that louder.

He pressed a kiss against her neck, the warmth of his lips a balm to the ache in her heart. “Forgive me?”

Yes, yes, she would. But not yet. Not until they talked things out. College. And plans.

“I'm sorry . . .” His kisses replaced her anger with a passion that always pushed reason away. No one had ever kissed her like Logan did—like kissing her was the best thing—the only thing he wanted to do. “I've missed you so much, Vanessa.”

He picked her up and carried her into the bedroom, her arms went around his neck, his hair brushing against her face.

“We need to talk.”

“Okay . . .” His laughter was low in her ear. “But I thought I was making myself very clear . . .”

“Logan—”

“We'll talk after, okay?”

“Promise?”

“I promise. I love you, Vanessa.”

The way to love anything is to realize that it may be lost.

—G. K. CHESTERTON (1874–1936), ENGLISH THEOLOGIAN

M
aybe Mindy was right. She needed a dog.

Vanessa tucked the tiniest puppy into her arms, scratching behind his ears as she watched his brothers and sisters romp in the fenced-off corner of Mindy's living room. Their nonstop acrobatics, accompanied by tiny yips and growls, had both of them laughing all during breakfast. Canine comedic relief.

“You like Minion. Go ahead, admit it.” Mindy set two fresh cups of coffee down on the table.

“He's a cutie. But a dog doesn't fit into my life right now. And I don't think you should start married life off with a puppy, an apartment, and two people juggling shift work.”

“You're probably right.”

“Still . . .” She nuzzled his sleeping face, inhaling the distinct, warm scent of puppy. “They're so cute. Oh, well. Maybe in a year or two.”

“Now that we've all survived the hurricane, let's talk about the wedding some more, shall we?” Mindy took a quick bite of her second half of bagel and cream cheese. “We can't go out to the island to go dress shopping again—not with the road torn up, thanks to Cressida. But we can look at dress styles online. There's this one shop that alters used wedding dresses—repurposes them, so to speak.”

“I did like that one dress we found—with the long, floaty layers. Remember?”

“Yes. I pinned it to your board on Pinterest. It's perfect for a beach wedding.”

“And I also left a message for the wedding coordinator at the hotel where the medical conference is—”

“You're still thinking of having the wedding there?”

“I haven't had a chance to talk to Ted about Henderson Park Inn. The hurricane was a bit of an interruption. It's been more I'm-safe-how-are-you? kinds of conversations or texts.”

“True—and then yesterday you were gone all day—and night.”

“Not all night.”

“Are you going to tell me what you were doing, or are you going to make me ask?”

Vanessa ran her fingers across the puppy's soft fur. “It was no big deal, Mindy.”

“Okay, then. Tell me.”

“We were helping the Wrights clean up their yard—”

“
We
being your ex-husband and his team. I know that. And then you went somewhere again last night. That's what I'm curious about.”

Vanessa reached for Mindy's laptop. “I thought we were looking at dresses—”

“Vanessa!” Mindy closed the laptop with a snap.

“Fine.” The puppy squirmed in her arms, and Vanessa deposited it with the other puppies, knowing the delay was trying her friend's patience. “Logan asked me to meet him at Rocky Bayou Bridge.”

“He did? Why?”

“I don't know. Just to . . . talk.”

“You went to Rocky Bayou Bridge and—and talked.”

“Yes. He asked about what I'm doing now. So I told him. He knows about Ted. There's nothing to worry about.”

“I didn't say anything about me being worried about you and Logan. Are
you
?” Mindy focused on her bagel.

“No. Of course not.” Especially after last night when her emotions hadn't teetered or tottered. “I think seeing Logan again was a very good thing.”

Mindy's gaze locked on hers. “You do? Why?”

“It . . . puts everything in perspective. I came here to plan a wedding. I was afraid of running into ghosts. I even had this crazy dream . . .”

“A dream?”

“Yeah. I was walking on the bridge to Destin. It was foggy, and I couldn't see anything. I heard someone telling me to jump, and then the bridge started crumbling beneath my feet . . .” Vanessa waved away the fragments of the dream. “Something like that.”

“Wow. That's kind of telling.”

“What do you mean, ‘telling'?”

“There's a lot of information out there about dreams and symbolism. Bridges usually have to do with transitions—so you're in a transition time in your life. And fog indicates that you don't know what way to go in life.”

“I do know which way to go, Mindy! I'm marrying Ted!” Vanessa held up her hand to display her engagement ring, and then remembered she'd left it back in Colorado to be resized.

“Right. Right.”

“That dream was just . . . just me being nervous about coming back to Destin. But I'm here. And I've even seen Logan. And I'm fine.”