“No, I’m talking about Grace,” Logan says, smiling at me through the glass. “Grace Elizabeth Ivers. The woman I love.”
I don’t know whether to stand up on my chair and shout out “I love you too,” or hide under the desk in embarrassment. Big, public displays freak me out. If I owned a cloak of invisibility, I’d wear it every time a birthday or some other major event rolled around, because I hate, hate, hate being the center of attention.
But I can’t tear my eyes off Logan. I can’t breathe, or move, or form a single thought other than He loves me.
“Anyway, I’m hanging up now,” Logan tells the hosts. “I’m pretty sure I can take it from here.”
The line cuts off, and I shoot a panicky glance at the switchboard. Shit. The show is still on the air. I’m supposed to put on the next caller.
To my relief, Morris appears, giving Logan a friendly thump on the arm as he hurries into the producer’s booth. “Go,” Morris orders. “I’ll cover the rest of the show.”
“Are you sure?”
He grins. “That was always the plan. Who do you think screened the call, Gretch?” He points to the door. “Go.”
I don’t need to be told twice.
I hurry out of the booth and throw my arms around Logan’s strong shoulders. “I cannot believe you just did that,” I blurt out.
As his laughter tickles the top of my head, his arms slide down to my hips, large hands curling around my waist. “I figured nothing short of a grand gesture would convince you how shitty I feel about what happened earlier.”
I pull back, tipping my head to meet his gorgeous eyes. “You should feel shitty,” I chastise. “I can’t believe you said all that stuff. I don’t plan on ever breaking up with you.”
“Good. Because I’m never breaking up with you.” He brings one hand to my cheek, stroking it with infinite tenderness. “Actually, I think I’m going to marry you one day.”
Shock jolts through me. “What?”
“One day,” he repeats when he sees my expression. “I mean it, Grace, I’m in this for the long haul. You still have two years left at Briar, and I’ll be in Munsen during that time, but I promise you, I’ll come see you as often as I can. Every available second I have will be yours.” His voice thickens. “I’m yours.”
I swallow a lump of emotion. “Did you really mean what you told Pace just now?”
“You mean…that I love you?”
I nod.
“I meant every damn word, gorgeous.” He hesitates. Visibly swallows. “Hannah was trying to describe love to me last semester. She said it feels like your heart is about to overflow, and that when you love someone, you need them more than anything else in the world, more than food or water or air. That’s how I feel about you. I need you. I can’t stand the thought of being without you.” He releases a shaky breath. “You’re the last person I think about before I go to sleep, and the first person I think about when I open my eyes in the morning. You’re it for me, baby.”
The heartfelt words unleash a flood of warmth inside me, but despite that, I can’t help but gaze at him with profound sorrow. “What about everything you said earlier…about your future, and how you’re going to be miserable and hate your life…” I bite my lower lip. “I don’t want that to happen, Logan. I don’t want you to turn bitter, and hateful, and…” I trail off.
His fingers tremble against my cheek. “I won’t. Or at least, I’ll try not to. It’s going to suck, Grace. We both know that, but I promise not to let it destroy me, or us.” A crack wobbles his voice. “And it won’t be forever, just until Jeff comes back and takes over again. The next few years, it’ll probably feel like I’m wandering around in a pitch-black tunnel, but there is a light at the end of it. And as long as you’re with me, there’ll be a light inside of it, too. Without you, it’ll just be darkness.”
I burst out laughing, and a hurt expression fills his eyes.
“You think that’s funny?” he says sadly.
“No, I was thinking it’s a damn shame you didn’t put everything you just said into the poem you wrote me.”
A tentative smile lifts his mouth. “You liked that, huh?”
“I loved it.” My heart constricts. “I love you.”
The smile widens. “Even after I acted like a stupid jackass today?”
“Yep.”
“Even though I’ll probably act like a stupid jackass again? Because I can’t promise not to. Apparently I’m hopeless when it comes to relationships.”
“No, you’re not.” I ease up on my tiptoes and kiss the corner of his jaw. “You’re a bit inept, sure. But you’re also ridiculously talented when it comes to romantic gestures, so if you screw up again, I’m ninety percent sure you’ll be able to win me back.”
“Only ninety percent?” He looks upset.
“Well, it depends how badly you screw up. I mean, if it’s picking a fight with me like you did today, then obviously we’ll be able to work through it. But if I’m over at your house and I go down to the basement and find a serial killer lair? No promises.”
“Jesus Christ, what is your obsession with serial killers?” He grins. “Hey, that should be your specialty. Profiling killers.”
Damn. Not a bad idea.
I decide to put a pin in that, then loop my arms around his neck again. “Question.”
His eyes twinkle. “Hit me.”
“Can we kiss now, or are you still groveling?”
“Depends on whether my girlfriend requires more groveling.”
“Nope. I require this.” I cup the back of his head and yank his mouth down on mine.
The kiss is…magic. It’s always magic when we’re together. As our tongues meet in a reckless tangle, my mind spins and my body sings.
“Love you, Johnny,” I murmur into his lips.
His laughter warms my face. Then he brushes his mouth over mine and whispers, “Love you too, gorgeous.”
35
Logan
The next morning, I wake up with Grace snuggled up beside me, and it’s the best fucking feeling in the whole fucking world. She slept at my place last night, and we stayed up until four a.m., alternating between talking, cuddling, and having sex. And not the hollow, meaningless kind I’ve been indulging in since I started college. Sex with Grace means something. It doesn’t make me feel hollow, but full. Brimming with emotions I can’t even give labels to.
Grace stirs in my arms, and I absently toy with a strand of her hair, twirling it around my fingers.
“Morning,” she says, yawning as she lifts her head.
“Morning.”
“What time is it?”
“Ten-thirty.”
“Oh no. We slept in? Don’t you have practice?”
“Not for a few hours.”
“Oh, okay, good. We stayed up way too late last night.”