Crazy Little Thing Called Love (41 page)

•  •  •

Logan's kiss was a plea. For forgiveness. For a second chance. His arms embraced her, not in desperation, but with a gentleness that crumbled her defenses. The taste of his mouth familiar, pulling her back to nights together she'd never quite forgotten. No one had ever kissed her like Logan Hollister did.

Vanessa broke away from the sweet enticement of Logan's kiss, hiding her face in the wool material.

“Stop . . . I can't . . . think when you kiss me like that . . .”

Logan found the curve of her neck just below her ear, pressing his lips there so her entire body warmed.

“All I need to know is that you forgive me.” Another kiss. “And that you still love me.” A third kiss. “And that you'll marry me again.”

“Logan, what happened—the divorce—it wasn't all your fault. I'm sorry, too. For not listening to you . . . for being so stubborn. I need your forgiveness, too.”

“I know, love. We'll forgive each other. Begin again. Be wiser in how we love each other.”

She managed to push him away so she could look in his eyes, which were alight with love—and desire. “You really went to Montana to talk to my father? To ask if you could marry me again? And then flew here?”

“I'm only up for so many questions at a time. I've got a serious case of sleep deprivation. I don't sleep on planes—and you can believe I didn't sleep well the night before I went to see your father.”

Vanessa ran her fingers along his face, his jaw scruffy. “Why did you do that, Logan?”

“I've never forgotten what your father said when we told your parents we eloped during spring break.”

Vanessa's brow furrowed. “What did he say?”

“He couldn't understand why I had the decency—he said ‘
the common courtesy, the expected courtesy
'—to ask permission to date you, but I didn't have the same courtesy to ask to marry you.” Logan raised her hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to her palm that sent tingles along her arm. “This was a chance to right a wrong against your father—and mother.”

“What did she say?”

“You are all questions tonight, aren't you?” Logan's words were laced with a chuckle. “Well, she wasn't there at first, but she did join the conversation later—or else I wouldn't be here, I assure you.”

“I'm certain that was an interesting conversation between my parents.”

“I have both of their blessings—they even prayed with me before I left.” A smile curved Logan's lips. “And now, I have a question for you.”

“Turnabout is fair play and all that?”

“Not at all.” Logan shifted so she was no longer in the warmth of his embrace. “If you'll just stay where you are for one moment, I need to get down on one knee. Although I admit I'm finding it difficult to let you go.”

At the words “get down on one knee,” Vanessa backed away. “What are you—”

“Have a little patience.” He pressed several fingers against her lips, following up with a brief kiss. “I've never done this before—well, in quite this manner.”

He stepped back and then lowered himself to one knee, raising her left hand and slipping a ring on her finger, just past the first knuckle. “Vanessa Hollister-Hollister, I knew exactly what I was doing when I asked you to marry me ten years ago—and yet I didn't know how to
stay married
. I'm all in this time. I won't quit. I won't walk away—and if you leave, well, I'll come after you. If I can't figure out how to fix what's wrong, I'll ask for help. Your help. Family and friends' help. God's help. Please, will you trust me enough to marry me again?”

The ring glinted in the overhead light—the oval ruby accented by the two baguette-cut diamonds reminiscent of the faux-ruby in Logan's class ring. Vanessa moved it the rest of the way onto her finger and then knelt down in front of him, pressing her hand against his chest, right where his heart beat.

“Yes, Logan. I want to trust you again. Yes, I'll marry you again.”

“When?”

She laughed—pushing away from him. “When?” She'd expected another intoxicating kiss, not another question.

“Yes—when will you marry me? I think the first week in April sounds good—a beach wedding in Destin.”

She couldn't hold back another laugh. “Who told you?”

“Mindy did—and before you go thinking I'm proposing so the Henderson Park Inn wedding doesn't go to waste—it's not about that at all.”

“I said I trust you, Logan. Do you really want to pick up on the wedding I'd started planning when I was engaged to someone else?”

“I want to marry you—period. If you want to do something else, that's fine. We'll do whatever you want to do, and we'll pay off the bill from that, too.”

“To be honest, I never talked to Ted about the Henderson Park Inn. I stopped there one afternoon and thought it would be such a lovely place for a wedding . . . started dreaming out loud with Mindy and the assistant wedding coordinator . . .”

Logan stood, pulling her back into his arms. “Want to know what I think?”

“Yes.”

“The inn is perfect for our wedding.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Don't you remember talking about re-creating our wedding one day—having a beachside ceremony?”

“We did say that, didn't we?”

“Here's our chance, love.”

“Then, Mr. Hollister, it looks like we're getting remarried in a few weeks.”

Forgiveness is the giving, and so the receiving, of life.

—GEORGE MACDONALD (1824–1905), SCOTTISH MINISTER AND AUTHOR

H
ow had this evening morphed into a bridal shower?

Vanessa tugged against Caron's hand, coming to a stop in the Hollisters' kitchen.

“I don't feel right about this.”

“What's wrong?”

“I mean . . . first your parents host the rehearsal dinner—taking us all out to eat at the Crab Trap in Destin.”

“So? Everyone has a rehearsal dinner. And Logan said he took you to the Crab Trap for your first date.”

Vanessa closed her eyes, remembering herself at eighteen, so nervous. “That was the first time I tasted fried calamari. I hated it. And Logan kept saying, ‘Aren't they good?' But he'd also ordered she-crab soup—and that I did like.”

“First dates—aren't they the worst?” Caron grabbed her hand and started pulling her toward the Hollisters' family room. “Now, come on, you're keeping people waiting.”

“But I wasn't expecting a . . . a shower.”

“We know that.” Caron winked at her. “That made it all the more exciting. Logan's out with the guys—nice, clean fun. I think Alex said something about laser tag.”

“The guys will love that.”

“Come on. Mindy can't stay that late.”

“Mindy's here? With the baby?”

Vanessa rushed past Caron into the room, only to stop short again. Her mother and Logan's mother were there. And Julie. And Mindy, with her newborn daughter, Alena. The Wrights' daughter, Ruth, sat next to Vanessa's mother. And somehow they'd found Tonya, Christian's mother. A small group—but that was perfect for Vanessa.

Except for the pile of gifts wrapped in a rainbow of colors matching the flowers in the bouquet of Gerbera daisies she'd carry tomorrow, the room looked the same as it usually did. No streamers or paper wedding bells or
BRIDE-TO-BE
banner. Vanessa needed to thank someone—probably Caron—for her restraint.

And then she noticed the table with a three-tiered stand of cupcakes, decorated with dollops of creamy white icing and sugar monograms, wrapped in lace cups. Behind the table positioned on an easel was a large framed collage. Photos of Logan and her filled the frame: photos from high school, including their graduation picture and even one of them on the back of Logan's motorcycle. Photos taken this week while they'd played at Big Kahuna's Water & Adventure Park with their wedding party and guests. While she and Logan clambered onto Jet Skis to go riding in the Gulf. While they walked along the beach, holding hands—and then Logan picked her up and ran into the water with her, laughing. While the two of them sat next to each other in the Hollisters' backyard, enjoying the shrimp boil Logan's parents had hosted earlier that week for friends and family.

“Surprise!” everyone shouted together, causing tears to fill Vanessa's eyes.

“Come on in and sit down. We've been waiting for you!” Mindy patted the cushion next to her, cradling her sleeping daughter in her arms.

“Only if I can hold little Alena.”

“Open your presents first.” Mindy snuggled the baby closer. “Then you can hold her.”

“Deal.”

Vanessa leaned close to her friend, lowering her voice to a whisper. “I'm not certain how to do this. I hate being the center of attention. And now everyone's watching me.”

“Just consider it practice for tomorrow.” Mindy tucked the lavender blanket closer to Alena's body. “For now, just open the presents, look surprised, and say thank you.”

“Is that all?”

“Yes. See? Simple.”

Her mother and Mrs. Hollister sat on the love seat across from her, both looking as happy as the mother of the bride and the mother of the groom should. Looking like friends. She and Logan had deprived their parents of this opportunity with their first marriage—but she wouldn't think about that now. No. She'd do what Mindy had suggested. She'd say thank you to God for this second chance—for all of them.

As she opened the presents, Vanessa realized Mindy was right about gratefulness being the best thing. And she didn't have to fake that emotion.

Of course, Mindy and Caron made her want to hide under the couch cushions by giving her lingerie. Feminine, yes . . . but still, opening the packages in front of Logan's mother and her own mother had her fumbling with the ribbons and then stuffing both items back into the boxes as she mumbled “Thank you” under her breath.

Ruth presented her with one of Mrs. Wright's paintings—a view of sailboats out on the Gulf. Her thank-you had to be forced past the lump in her throat. Tonya gave her a favorite cookbook, and Julie had bought her a crystal vase, with the instructions that Logan was supposed to keep it filled with flowers at all times. Logan's mother presented her with a delicate blue handkerchief as Vanessa's “something blue,” explaining that Logan's grandmother had carried it on her wedding day, as well as a gift certificate to a salon for a massage.

“I don't know if you like massages, Vanessa. But I love them. They're a great way to relieve stress.” Logan's mother seemed to be apologizing for her gift.

“I've never had a massage before—but thank you. This sounds wonderful.”

Her mother offered her present to Vanessa last—a large box, wrapped as only her mother could do it. The edges sharp and tight. The metallic blue lines matching. Beneath several layers of white tissue paper, Vanessa discovered a quilt.

“Mom . . . this is exquisite.”

Vanessa ran the tips of her fingers over the top of the quilt, entranced by the maroons and golds against the snow-white background of the double wedding ring pattern.

“How did you find the time to do this?”

Her mother's eyes shimmered with tears. “I, um, I started the quilt when you and Logan were married the first time. I'm sorry to say I didn't give it the attention it deserved.”

Vanessa pressed the folds of the quilt to her face. Her mother had made this for Logan and her back when their marriage was her “worst mistake ever”?

A few moments later, she found her voice. “Thank you for finishing it.”

“It's family tradition.” Her mother pressed her hand to her face. “I'm embarrassed to admit that was the only reason I started the quilt. And it gave me something to do while your father was deployed . . . but then I put it away.”

“I understand.” Vanessa folded the quilt back into the box, imagining how she and Logan could snuggle beneath it—and hoping the heat radiating across her neck and face wasn't a telltale sign of the direction of her thoughts. “I can't wait to show it to Logan.”

“I thought it would be fun to use your high school colors. If you want something different . . . a different pattern . . . or colors . . .”

“No. No. This is perfect, Mom. Perfect.”

•  •  •

In less than twenty-four hours, she'd become Mrs. Logan Hollister again.

Vanessa Hollister-Hollister-Hollister.

A soft laugh escaped Vanessa's lips. It was a good thing she liked her last name, because she was going to be stuck with it—in triplicate.

“It's late. Are you going to be able to sleep tonight?” Her mother came up behind her, resting a hand on her back as they both looked at the photo collage still positioned in the family room. The sound of laughter and conversation, along with the clink of dishware being washed, floated in from the kitchen where Julie and Caron helped Logan's mom clean up from the surprise bridal shower.