Heat Wave

I laugh at that, high, girlish giggles. My stomach is churning with nerves and yet I feel happy, happy and free that this is actually happening. It’s scary but so worth it.

Logan gives him a calm smile. “Believe me, none of this was taken lightly. We all know what Juliet was to both of us and who she was to all of you. But life has a funny way of working out. You can’t always choose who you fall in love with and only sometimes are you lucky enough to have a second chance at love. What I have with Veronica, though, goes far beyond a second chance.” He squeezes my hand and gives me a tender look, one that makes me nearly buckle at the knees. “She makes me want to be a better man. She makes me get up each morning and live without fear. She’s everything I could have dreamed life could be.”

Oh god.

Don’t cry, I tell myself. Don’t cry, don’t cry.

“Freckles, you’re my love, you’re my home, and you’re my light,” he says, turning to face me, taking both my hands in his.

And that’s when I realize it. That’s when I realize that this confession, the announcement of our love and coupling or whatever you want to call it, is more than I thought. That this wasn’t something spur of the moment and it wasn’t because we were caught kissing and enjoying it. This was thought-over, this was planned.

Logan is nervous. There’s a bead of sweat at his forehead, his eyes are wavering. It’s not over their approval.

It’s over mine.

“I know this is fast,” he says to me. “I know we have obstacles. I know that the path will get rough for a while. But I would rather walk over coals with you then stay safe and alone. I would rather face the misgivings and the judgement and be by your side, then go the safe route without you. You’re worth it all, so worth it, and in the end, that’s all that matters to me. You are all that matters.”

He clears his throat, glancing anxiously at the crowd who are standing in shock and awe.

Then he drops to one knee.

Nikki and Kate gasp dramatically in unison.

I can’t. Fucking. Breathe.

He holds my hand while he reaches into his pocket. My mouth is clamped together, fighting back tears, my other hand at my chest.

Is this real? IS THIS REAL?

What is happening?

Logan stares up at me and in his eyes I see it all – he’s afraid but it won’t keep him from me. Nothing will.

“Veronica Locke,” he says, voice choking up. He brings a shiny ring out of his pocket, holding it out in front of me. “Will you marry me?”

My world is spinning, a warm gentle cycle, but I’m spinning all the same.

Logan is asking me to marry him.

There are a million thoughts and worries and layers of doom swirling around me, wanting in, to take this moment and ruin it with doubt, with guilt, with shame.

But I don’t let them in. I push them out, where they belong.

I’m going with my heart now.

Logan is asking me to marry him.

To become his wife.

There’s only been one answer.

“Yes,” I gasp, tears spilling down my cheeks. “Yes.”

Everything becomes a blur. He slips the ring on my finger – through my tears it shines like a new star – and then I’m dropping to my knees beside him, grabbing his face in disbelief.

“Is this really happening?” I ask.

“Yes,” he whispers. “It really is. I love you. I made mistakes and it should have been you, it always should have been you, and now it is. It’s happening. And if it’s a dream, I don’t want to wake up.”

“Me neither,” I sob and then I’m kissing him, my lips on his mouth, his cheeks, his forehead and he’s embracing me and people around us are erupting into applause.

I look around, smiling, crying, embarrassed, overjoyed. And I look at everyone, all my friends, my ohana, and I know things are going to be okay. Some of them are smiling, some of them are still in shock, some of them look suspicious. But in the end I know they stand by me, and stand by us, and if it’s weird right now, they’ll allow it to get better.

Eventually we get up, Logan hauling me to my feet, brushing my hair from my face, kissing me with tears in his eyes.

“It’s you and me, Freckles. Me and you.”

And then, then, the party really starts. The champagne is flowing, guests are congratulating us, the music is blaring. Johnny comes up to us, pulling us both into a hug, and says, “This is weird but you both know that. You’re good people and you both deserve to be happy. Even you, habut. No, especially you. God. Give the rest of us a break, man.”