by Elle Aycart
“Did you apologize?” Adam inquired.
“We’re beyond that now. She doesn’t want to see me again.”
“But do you love her?”
“Of course I love her. I can’t fucking breathe without her, but I love her too much to ask her to leave her life behind and come back here.” And on that note, he might as well inform everyone that he was selling the greenhouse and heading for New York or France or wherever Sky was, because he wasn’t exaggerating a bit when he said he couldn’t breathe without her. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t function, really.
“We get that you love her, but have you told her that?” Shayna asked.
Before he could answer, another person did. “No, he hasn’t.”
He froze. That voice.
He turned around. Sky was standing by the door, Megan at her side. Well, not really at her side—his sister was blocking the exit.
Man, Sky looked so beautiful.
“No, he hasn’t,” she repeated, her eyes glittery from unshed tears. “And he can’t know if I want to see him ever again because the ass hasn’t bothered to ask me that either.”
Headshakes and murmurs of disapproval.
“You’re going to get tarred and feathered,” Ty whispered. “Start running.”
“Sky,” Logan said, walking toward her.
Cerberus stepped in front of her defensively and growled at him. That mutt must have grown a foot and gained twenty pounds in the last few weeks. Or had Logan just forgotten how fucking scary Arnie could look? Never mind the tar and the feathers; he was going to get dismembered.
“Arnie, may I? I need to speak with Sky.”
Arnie growled again, more threateningly.
Nope, Logan wasn’t welcome to come closer.
He tried a flanking approach, but the dog intercepted him, showing teeth, ears laid back.
“Sky, call him down. Please.”
Sky pondered for a long second, reached for Arnie, and said, “Down, baby. Don’t kill him yet. Let him talk.”
The beast all but purred at her touch and obeyed, sitting by her side, his vicious eyes trained on Logan. Ready to jump at the slightest provocation.
Logan stepped forward. “You came.” Then it dawned him. “Voluntarily? Did any of these wackos threaten you?”
“Not exactly,” she said, turning to Megan, who looked suspiciously innocent. “I was told there was a wedding dress emergency and that Carol was ready to use staples to fix it.”
“I warned you to butt out,” Logan upbraided his sister.
Alec snorted. Megan too. “Life’s too short to waste it on moronities,” she said.
“How long have you been standing here?” Logan asked Sky.
“Since the Cosmopolitan plot.”
Long enough. “I’m very sorry about all this. About everything. I don’t even know where to start.”
“Start from the part about you fucking up,” someone suggested behind him. “We want details.”
Logan tried to ignore the crowd, although yeah, that was a good place to start. “I lost it, babe. Vivienne was the one emailing Eric. He assumed you were her and—”
“—and you assumed I was selling you out,” she finished.
He nodded. “I’m so fucking sorry for all I said to you.”
“Staggering, your faith in me. Unwavering, really.”
Her hard tone felt like a whip. He lowered his head, ashamed. “I was wrong.”
“How long have you known it was Vivienne and not me who suggested relocation?”
“For a while,” he confessed.
“Why didn’t you apologize? Or did I matter so little to you that I didn’t deserve an apology?”
“No, baby, of course you did.”
“Men,” someone said, tsking. Carol, by the sound of it. “Not even half a working neuron.”
“Can we please go somewhere else to talk about this?” he asked Sky. This was no way to apologize to her, with all these interruptions and sidetracks.
“No!” was the collective answer.
“Back the fuck off! All of you!” Logan yelled at the crowd, which recoiled. Risking Arnie, Logan reached for Sky. “Please, let’s step out for a second.”
“Fine.”
Thank fucking God.
He closed the doors of the council room behind them both and addressed her again. “Of course you deserved an apology, baby. You deserved my head on a platter. My balls too. I went to New York. I was at one of those trade shows, ready to throw myself on your mercy. You were doing your job, and I realized I had no right to snatch you away from all that. Megan told me how you turned down the summer semester in France to stay in Minnesota. I didn’t want that for you. I didn’t want you to give up your dreams. I figured with me out of the picture, you’d continue on your way to France. I thought if you hated me, it would be easier.”
He must have said something very wrong, because her eyes blazed. She went on her tiptoes, chin up, and pushed at his chest. “What gave you the right to decide for me, you moron?” Another push. “You think you decide what’s best for me, for us, and then make it happen?” Another push. “How does that make you different from Vivienne and her manipulations, huh? How?”
She was slapping him now. He stood still, taking the punishment. She needed to get her anger out, and he deserved so much worse. But it didn’t seem to help, because she wrenched away, ready to leave.
No way. Losing her again wasn’t an option, not now. He grabbed her and hugged her. Arnie went ballistic at his sudden move. Whatever. Let the dismemberment begin. The beast could start with Logan’s mangled heart. It was in pieces on the floor already. “Please don’t go, babe. Please. Let me explain.”
She stopped fighting him and broke into tears.
“He’s begging,” came from inside the council room.
“What?” someone asked. “We can’t hear from back here. What’s happening?”
“He’s begging,” came again, this time louder. “She’s crying. The dog is growling. The Alchemist might lose his family jewels.”
“Good. He deserves it.” That sounded like Megan.
They had a spotter broadcasting the event for those in the farther rows. Fine. He didn’t care. As long as Sky wasn’t storming away, there was hope she’d give him another chance. Breathing her in, he hugged her tighter. It felt so fucking good to hold Sky in his arms again. He’d missed her so much.
He waited for her sobs to quiet into sniffs.
“You’re right, baby,” he said. “I’m an asshole and a moron, and I behaved no better than Vivienne. Of course it should had been your choice.”
She spoke into his chest, her voice still quivering. “Did you mean what you said in there?”
“Every single word. I love you. Can you forgive me?”
She didn’t answer. The fact that she didn’t tell him she loved him didn’t escape him either.
Suddenly there were a couple of knocks on the door. It opened a crack, Carol’s head becoming half visible. “We hate to interrupt, but we need to get rolling on the wedding. The star shower won’t wait. Just ignore us.” Then the whole town started streaming out, most of them scowling at him in disapproval.
When it came Megan’s turn to pass, she totally ignored him and addressed Sky. “You ready?”
Sky cleared her throat. “Ready for what?”
“My wedding, of course.”
“I don’t—”
“We’re in the middle of something, Megan,” Logan interrupted.
“Shut up. I’m helping you. You can grovel later, when you’re wearing a tuxedo. After the wedding.”
Sky shook her head, looking panicky and overwhelmed. “I can’t stay. I—"
But Sky couldn’t finish, because Megan had already grabbed her and was pulling her along.
With the reception in full swing, Sky wandered aside, Arnie on her heels, and looked up at the star shower, her body covered in goose bumps. She’d been in bigger, much more elabor
ate weddings with hundreds of guests, some with their own entourages. But not even one of those events had come close to the emotional charge of this one.
They were up at the cabin she’d been to before with Logan. Monroe apparently was certified to perform weddings. That, or he’d found a certificate in an auction unit. The whole town was there.
Megan was the most beautiful bride, and that dress… that dress had been made for her. And for a preppers’ wedding. No doubt about it.
“You okay?” she heard Logan say from behind her. He’d been holding her hand throughout the ceremony, as if afraid she would leave. While he’d been distracted, congratulating the newlyweds, Sky had escaped, needing a moment alone to regroup.
She nodded, trying to swallow a lump the size of a frigging tennis ball that was stuck in her throat. Had been stuck in her throat since she stepped into that council room and realized there was no wedding emergency. She’d attempted to backtrack, but Megan had blocked her exit. For such a small woman, damn if Megan wasn’t strong.
Then Sky had heard Logan say that he’d fucked up and that he loved her and—well, her legs had been trembling too badly for her to walk, let alone storm out of there.
Now things were infinitely more complicated. Her defenses were low. Very low. Weddings always made her emotional. And Logan… Logan could melt her heart with a look. A whisper. Forget the tuxedo he was wearing. He could be in his damn hazmat suit for all she cared. He would still get to her.
“You look beautiful in that dress,” he said quietly.
She shrugged. It wasn’t anything eye-catching, not a confection that risked outshining the bride. It was the dress Sky wore for weddings. Lola had known that. The fact that this particular gown had somehow ended up in Megan’s car just showed that Sky was due for a conversation with her meddlesome sister.
“It was such a magical wedding,” she replied, deflecting the compliment. Megan and Alec had been married surrounded by stars falling from the sky. Both had been crying.
“Yes,” Logan said, hugging her.
Her voice was shaky and barely audible. “Now what?”
“Do you think we could discuss this alone?” he asked, gesturing at Arnie.
“Not a chance in hell. He won’t leave me alone with you.”
She felt his forehead on her shoulder. Could even feel his grimace. “I would never hurt you.”
“You already did. And you hurt him too.”
“I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t intend to.”
Sky turned around. “What did you intend when you called me a whore?”
He winced and sank to his knees, his head against her stomach. At Arnie’s height. “I swear to you, that will never happen again. Ever.”
“It’s not wise to have your neck so close to his teeth. Arnie might take a shot at you.”
Logan shrugged. “He can have at it.”
She tried shifting away, but he grabbed her waist, not letting her go. “Please, baby. Stay. Don’t go.”
“Get up,” she said tartly. “You’re doing what you accused me of doing. You’re trying to manipulate me.”
He shook his head. “I’m not, baby. I’m throwing myself at your mercy.”
She pulled at his arm. “Well, you can throw yourself at my mercy by standing where I can more easily sucker punch you.” If they were going to start over, they had to do it on their own two feet, face-to-face.
He looked up at her, a smile tugging at his mouth.
“Don’t you dare smile,” she warned him as he stood up.
“I’m sorry, Butterfly. I just missed your cheekiness so badly.”
She crossed her arms, feeling her anger dissipate. Damn him. “What would have happened if I hadn’t been tricked into coming back?”
“I was coming for you.” He reached for his phone. After tapping on it, he showed her the screen. It displayed a ticket to New York. “I thought I knew what I wanted. I thought I knew what I was ready to sacrifice to get it. I was wrong. I can’t lose you.”
As the waterworks behind her eyeballs cranked up again, Logan put his arms around her. Arnie, sensing the tension, stood at full attention, growling threateningly.
“He’s not going to forgive you that easily,” she said, trying to speak over her tears.
“I’ll win him over.”
She looked him in the eye. “It will take time. He’s wary now. Feeling vulnerable. Angry that you let him down.”
“He’ll get all the time he needs. If he gives me a second chance to prove myself, I promise I won’t let him down ever again.”
“We’re not talking about Arnie anymore, are we?”
“No, we’re not,” Logan said, cupping her face. “I love you, babe.”
He came closer, painstakingly slowly, giving her the opportunity to reject him. But she couldn’t. When he coaxed her lips open, she accepted him, kissing him.
“You haven’t said you love me back.”
She went for flippant. “You need my confirmation? I thought you had it figured out already.”
“I do. I don’t. I mean I don’t have it figured out, but I do need confirmation. I need it badly,” he acknowledged.
“Of course I love you. You think I’d be here if I didn’t?”
He leaned his forehead against hers. “I love you so much, babe. If you want to go to Paris, we’ll make it work. If you want to stay in New York, we’ll make it work.”
“What if I want to stay in Minnesota for the time being?”
He smiled and kissed her softly. “We’ll make that work too.”
Epilogue
Six months later, at the compound…
Logan grabbed the supplies and headed for the bunker. Damn surprise drills, always messing up his plans. If he didn’t know better, and Alec didn’t sweep his house regularly, he’d say there were surveillance cameras at his place, and the preppers scheduled survival exercises according to what would fuck him up the worst. He should be home, cozying up with Sky, instead of stashing supplies while his woman was in the compound, humoring these nutjobs.
He entered Doomsdaymart, as Sky called it, and right away heard eighties music coming from the back. Following the tunes, he turned the corner and found Sky wearing cute, very revealing camouflage underwear, a gas mask on top of her head, and those red-hearted rubber boots on her feet. She was lying on an improvised bed, candles all over the place.
Jesus, she was gorgeous. She could rock any look, even the crazy prepper one.
He gulped and made an effort to get his throat to work. “If we set the bunker on fire, we’ll never live it down.”
She laughed, that husky, low laugh that shot straight to his cock and turned him into a stammering, blabbering fool. “I promised your sister I’d keep the extinguisher handy.”
“So we’re back to getting lucky with my sister’s help?” Not that he was going to complain. Today made six months since they’d gotten back together. Since Sky had taken him back after he fucked up, to be exact. He’d had plans for tonight, and not a single one included an emergency drill with a bunch of nosy wackos.
Sky pouted. “You unhappy about it?”
“Fuck no,” he said, going to her. “The music could stand some improvement though.”
“There’s no signal, so I had to make do with the cassette from my car. I found a cassette player down here, can you imagine?”
“Yep, I totally can.”
It had taken him a long while to win her over. That had been nothing compared to the time it had taken to win Arnie over. Even now, if Sky frowned at Logan, he swore Arnie did too.
She wrapped herself around him, kissing him. “You’re cold,” she said, shivering.
Ha, not for long. “That’s what happens when people organize drills in December. Couldn’t we have sat this one out?”
“No way. These are fun. Besides, we’re going to New York to visit Lola for Christmas. We can’t miss the last drill of the year. It would be murderous.”
Right. He remembe
red when she’d considered eating carbs in the evening murderous. Those were the days.
“You’re going to love spending New Year’s Eve in El Barrio. Va a ser la bomba, papi.”
“Papi what?”
“It’s gonna kick ass, and Lola is going to flip when she hears me speak Spanish.”
“I bet.” Sky had been auditing a Spanish class. He was no expert, but the language must have been somewhere in her head, because in no time she’d made huge progress. Nothing like finding her place among crazy preppers to want to get in touch with her roots.
“Wait till she sees her Christmas present. I need to check how to say ‘bug-out bag’ in Spanish.”
“You’re getting her a bug-out bag?”
“We are getting her a bug-out bag. She needs to be prepared. Just in case.”
Logan tightened his embrace, laughing. “Jesus Christ. You’ve been infected.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve seen it many times. When a sane person starts dealing with preppers, either they run away screaming, or they get infected.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m not infected, I just think we should be… prepared.”
“Exactly. I rest my case.” She had half the town buying and storing coconut oil like there was no tomorrow. And planting aloe vera. And testing the perishability of her concoctions. Sky’s beauty products were a huge success, not only among preppers, but normal humans alike. The little shop she’d opened in Paris and the popularity of her blog, “Prepping in Style,” attested to that.
He’d been ready to move to New York, but she’d refused. She’d transferred her credits so she could finish her degree in Paris and had adapted to NoName surprisingly well. She still whined about the weather and the lousy cell service, and grumbled about how crazy everyone was. But she was sitting ringside at the town meetings, having the time of her life, voting on the most surreal shit.
“What about you?” she asked, helping him get rid of his jacket. “You didn’t run for the hills and you aren’t infected. What’s that?” Damn, she’d noticed the small box in his pocket.
No fucking way. He wasn’t doing this in a bunker. He already had a perfect spot in mind.