February 14th

Logan laid back, enjoying every ray of sunshine as it soaked into his skin. He felt at peace. So at peace. He was home. After so many months in London, the sun, hot and constant, warming his skin was perfect. A perfect moment. A perfect day.

The only fly in the ointment was his head. It was pounding. Throbbing. He wasn't sure why. And he felt a little queasy as he bobbed back and forth and up and down slightly with the waves. But none of that mattered out on the water. He pressed his back into the fiberglass surfboard beneath him. It was surprisingly soft. Softer than he'd remembered. But that didn't concern him. Nothing could ruin this. Surfing. It had been what he needed. What he always needed, but today more so than ever. Today was important. He couldn't remember why exactly, but it was. Somehow he wasn't worried though. Not with the sun shining like that. How could anything be wrong on a day like this?

If only his head didn't ache so much. Logan brought a hand up to massage one temple and then the other. Just two more minutes. In two minutes he'd ride one last wave to the shore. He had things to do, for sure. Something was pressing. If only he could—

An unexpected wave took him by surprise, splashing his face and jarring him out of his reverie. He sputtered, sitting up too quickly, and lost his balance. His board tipped and he was….falling, falling, falling. Falling?

Logan came to just before his face planted into the hardwood floor next to his bed at the Neptune Grand. He caught himself just in time to save his nose.

"What the hell?" he grumbled, doing a pushup straight to standing and bracing himself for another attack. It didn't come. Instead, he came face-to-face with his would-be assailant. A curly haired, lanky individual who looked...vaguely familiar. Logan curbed his urge to punch the guy, whoever he was. His head hurt too much to think properly, but he knew that punching wouldn't be good. And the bright light that was streaming through the window was suddenly anything but soothing. It was a hammer pounding directly on his brain.

"Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my room?" he croaked. He didn't sound as mad as he felt, but that was possibly due to the fact that his eyes were about to explode from the pain.

"Of course," the dopey looking guy in front of him drolled, rolling his eyes as he spoke. "We only grew up together. No reason to remember me," his sarcastic tone was punctuated by a grumble.

Logan squinted his eyes for a moment and scratched his head wearily, as though it would jog his memory. He tried to focus on the face in front of him. His eyes went to the plastic name tag pinned to the man in front of him's suit that read 'Jeff,' and then it all clicked.

"Ratner?" Logan smiled lopsidedly at his own aptitude. He might be too hungover to see straight, but he could never forget this guy. Jeff Ratner, longtime Neptune resident, and Neptune Grand employee. Which made Logan remember where he was. "You still work here?" And that he was wet. "Did you throw water on me?"

Ratner's forehead seemed to tighten. "Yes, well, I'm management now," he said crisply. He gave Logan a long once-over, from head to toe, which almost made Logan self-conscious. Logan was standing in just his boxer-briefs. He still had fifty pounds—and a trust fund—on Ratner, however, and refused to be intimidated. He decided to just own the wet, underwear-clad look in a way that only an Echolls could and crossed his arms. One side of Ratner's lips curled up into a snarky smile. "I've wanted to throw many things at you over the years, Echolls," he admitted. "But that was courtesy of your girlfriend."

Now Logan was confused again. And thinking hurt. He groaned and rubbed his temples once more. "My girlfriend?"

"Sorry, fiancèe? Of course you're engaged to her," Ratner grumbled with another eye roll. "Your fiancèe," he stressed the word as if it were a disease, "offered me a tidy sum to come up here and 'knock you up',"—

Logan snickered. Philippa.

"—which I blatantly refused to do until she informed me that it meant to wake you up and that I could 'use any means necessary'." He smiled at the empty carafe in his hand. "Which was my pleasure."

Logan almost chuckled despite himself. "You're lucky I didn't deck you," he informed Ratner without putting too much weight on the comment. He didn't want to be an ass, he was just stating a fact.

Ratner closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. "Logan Echolls wasted and whining. Just like old times," he informed Logan dryly. "I saw that you're starting a bottle collection again on the floor out there." Ratner indicated the main room. "Shall I inform housekeeping of the impending mass clean-up job?"

The snark of Logan's high school days living in the Grand came to the surface. He cocked his head to the side. "Aw, don't be like that. Did you bring your yearbook? Because I can sign it. 'K.I.T.' with my number if it'll turn that frown upside down."

Ratner seemed to consider the carafe in his hand but must have thought the better of throwing it at Logan because he set it down on the dresser near the window instead. Logan took that as a good sign. He could play nice too. Maybe.

"Truce," Logan offered.

"Never," Ratner deadpanned, but a smile threatened the corner of his mouth. He turned to pull a small tray off the dresser he'd put the pitcher onto. "I come bearing gifts from your better half."

Logan smiled at the thought of Philippa setting this up. She really was his better half even if they weren't together. And he knew Philippa had won Ratner over just like she had everyone else. Just like she always did.

Ratner handed Logan a shot glass half-full of amber liquid. "Hair of the dog that bit you."

Logan downed it without hesitation. "Thank you," he said genuinely. "Did you bring coffee?" he asked hopefully.

Ratner shook his head. "Caffeine will just dehydrate you more." He indicated the Gatorade on the bedside table and then handed over two Advil. "Chug it," he instructed him. "The kitchen sent you this," he said, retrieving the last item from the tray. It was a brown liquid concoction. It looked disgusting.

"Your attempt at drowning me was unsuccessful, so poison?" Logan surmised, taking the glass from Ratner and holding it up to the light. "What's in it?"

"You don't want to know. But the chef says it'll clear that hangover right up."

Logan took a small sip and nearly gagged. The concoction tasted about as appetizing as it looked. But anything to stop the pounding in his head was welcome. With a grimace, he downed two-thirds of it in a few long gulps. His body did an overly-dramatic shiver and Logan shook his head as he concentrated on not letting the grimy drink come back up again. He couldn't finish it. "That's terrible."

Ratner, with a disapproving shake of his head, said nothing as he crossed over to the ensuite bathroom and turned on the shower before turning back to Logan and putting his hands up in surrender. "Don't worry, this is where my involvement ends. There isn't enough money in the world!" He said the last part quickly under his breath. Ratner made his way to the closet and retrieved Logan's tuxedo, laid it carefully across the foot of the bed, and then he moved to the door of the bedroom. He turned back just before he'd have disappeared. "I'm to inform you that you're supposed to be at the church in forty-five minutes. Your fiancèe has the rings and a Xanax waiting for you." And, with a muttered, "Stupid rich kids," he was gone.

Logan's hangover had significantly lessened by the time he stepped out of the shower. He still felt like crap, but the banging in his head had deadened to a much more palatable dull ache. He used a hand towel to clear the condensation from the large, square bathroom mirror and took a long look at himself. He was relieved that there was no sign of hangover on his features. Booze resistant liver, he thought to himself. If nothing else, the Lester genes had given him that. It was something, he supposed.

He dried off quickly and then padded out to the bedroom and took a long look at the suit laid out for him. It was as grim as he remembered it. But it fit his mood and the day. Today felt like a funeral, and his role was to be the pager leading the cortège through the streets. The thought brought a lump to this throat, but he shook it off. He really wished that Philippa had left the Xanax here for him. He hadn't used any drugs since high school, but today could be an exception. He really really needed to not care right now.

As he removed the shirt from its hanger and tossed the jacket onto the bed again, Logan realized that he was, as usual, immensely grateful to Philippa for seeing to everything. She always came through for him. Logan didn't know if he'd have been able to get himself together this morning. He closed his eyes as he began pushing buttons into place, misaligning them once and needing to start over. Moving slowly was not working to improve his mood, so he hastily secured his cufflinks and then donned pants. He had ten minutes to spare before he had to leave, but idleness wasn't his friend today. If he left now, he could hide in the back of the parking lot and practice some deep breathing and then maybe snatch a Xanax from Phil before his actual funeral procession began.

Logan's phone was nowhere to be seen. It was probably dead anyway, though, and he didn't see himself needing it. He found his keys on the bar's countertop where Philippa had left them and almost balked. The wedding could go on without him, surely. It was just a fact. They didn't need him. But when had anyone ever needed him? He could skip out and his absence would be noted, but it would probably work out best for everyone involved. But then Philippa's words rang in his head.

"We're doing it because it's the right thing to do. Because we promised," he reminded himself aloud. "Damn you, Phil," he grumbled, fisting his hands in front of his eyes for a brief moment. She was right. He knew she was right. Logan scooped up his keys, grasping them so tightly that they dug into the skin. He clenched his jaw hard for another moment, relishing how good the pain felt; just as it always had when he was a kid. "Fucking Neptune," he murmured to no one with a long exhale as he secured his tie with a Windsor knot. Why had he thought this time would be any different?

He'd do it. He'd go and do what he needed to do. Even if it hurt. Even if it nearly killed him. And maybe one day, in ten years' time when his heart had healed enough that it could be held together with duct tape and bubble gum, he'd be glad he'd been a part of his best friends' wedding.

A guy could hope, couldn't he?

Logan parked near the front of the lot in the sunniest space he could find. All the places in the far corner were taken, but he didn't care if someone saw him sitting there. He didn't even know how he'd driven here. It was all a blur. He'd traveled on autopilot. And now that he could see the church, it was as if he were existing in a dissociated state. It was as though the whole day was playing out in front of him; as if he were the actor in some play rather than living his real life. He supposed that if it helped him survive, it was a good thing. He didn't want to feel.

He was early, but he noticed that several guests had already arrived. He watched for a moment as people sped into the lot and hurriedly exited cars. No doubt they were clamoring for the best seat in the house for the wedding of the century, Logan noted bitterly. The thought made his stomach churn. There was reality again.

He really should get in there. People were waiting for him. Expecting him. He didn't know if the girls had arrived yet, and there was only one way to find out. But first, he needed a moment. His phone was still somewhere at the hotel, and with it, his chance for guided deep, meditational breathing. He'd have to wing it.

Logan eased his seatback down a few inches and then settled his feet flat on the floor of the car, grounding himself. He let the sun warm his face and the exposed inch of his neck. It felt good. He took several deep, cleansing breaths. In two, three, four. Hold two, three, four. Out two, three, four. And repeat, he gently told himself, focusing on the here, the now. After several cycles, he was feeling much more centered. He could almost feel his chakras aligning naturally with each breath he took. He was almost ready.

Remember, Logan, he gently told himself inside his head. All that matters is right now. And in this moment you're okay. He felt the last bit of tension between his shoulder blades loosen a bit more. All situations, all feelings and emotions in life are impermanent. Today is—

Logan was jarred out of his reverie by the slice of cold air that hit him when his door was wrenched open with such force that he thought it might rip from the hinges. Just as he was about to object, a hand reached in from outside the car, wrapped itself around his perfectly knotted tie, and dragged him out of the car.

Logan squinted into the sun until the face of Duncan Kane blocked it out.

"Where is she?" Duncan bellowed, an inch from Logan's face.

Still slow on the uptake, Logan's first response, he realized a moment later, hadn't been a smart one. "Who?"

Thankfully he pulled it together enough to turn his face away from the fist that flew at him just before it made contact with his left cheekbone. Pain sliced through Logan's jaw and ear and stars shot past his eyes. Logan was slammed into the side of the car as the realization dawned on him.

Veronica. Duh.

"Who the hell do you think?" Duncan's face had turned a particularly dark shade of pink, and when he spoke, spit sprayed over Logan's smarting face.

Duncan pulled back his fist again for another go and Logan braced for impact, closing his eyes instinctively. The contact didn't come. After a second's pause, Logan ventured to crack one eye and saw Casey holding Duncan's arm.

"Stop it, Duncan!" Casey commanded before dragging Duncan away from Logan altogether. "Let him talk."

"I can't believe you'd show your face here," Duncan shouted. "Where. Is. She?"

Now Logan was just pissed off. "How the hell should I know? Aren't you the one she's marrying?" he countered, shoving Duncan away from him until Duncan let go of his tie. "Isn't she here?"

Duncan took a moment to study Logan but didn't seem convinced.

Lilly appeared from behind Duncan, and she gasped at the state of Logan.

Logan barely registered Lilly's response, his eyes were still fixed on Duncan. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about, Duncan. I conceded," Logan insisted, his arms flailing about in the air. "You won!"

"Bullshit!" Duncan yelled.

Now it was Logan's turn to be worried. Duncan seemed genuine. "Duncan, I wouldn't lie about Veronica's wellbeing. I haven't seen her since she left me standing in the parking lot of the restaurant last night."

"I know you did something. This has Logan Echolls written all over it. You've been scheming and conniving since the second you arrived," Duncan gritted out from behind locked teeth. "Spill, Echolls. She was fine when she left this morning. She was on her way here to meet the hair stylist and she was just fine. What did you do?" he demanded, now shaking violently with anger.

"I'm afraid," a feminine voice cut through the fray, "that honor belongs to me."

Logan turned, along with Duncan and Casey, to see Philippa, looking radiantly made up and coiffed. She was every bit the powdered, poised, and lovely bridesmaid except for the casual athletic clothing she wore and her grim expression.

"You?" Duncan snarled, taking a menacing step toward her.

Instinctively, Logan moved to place himself between Philippa and a fuming Duncan, unsure of what the man in front of him would do.

"Back off, Kane," Logan warned.

The interference only seemed to push Duncan farther. "I wouldn't ever hit a woman!" he growled, hurling the words at Logan. "I'll leave that to you Echolls men!"

Logan ignored the collective gasps of onlookers as his red-hot fury overtook him. His mind saw a flash of his father as the comparison hit home. Before Logan knew what he was doing, his own fist had connected with Duncan's face. He barely felt the flesh of his knuckles split at the contact, his breath coming in fits and spurts as Duncan fell back onto the ground.

Logan took a step forward, but Casey came to his aid again, this time holding him back as Duncan scrambled to his feet.

"Logan," Casey's voice broke through the sound of blood rushing through Logan's brain, "we're going for a walk." Casey, still holding Logan's arms, shoved him away from the group. "Duncan," he called out, "stay here."

"The hell I will," Duncan called out as Casey half-dragged Logan around the side of the church and through a side door that led to what Logan could only presume was the groom's suite.

Logan wrenched his way out of Casey's grasp with a promise to behave and then began pacing the length of the room. He barely even noticed Lilly and Philippa step around Casey to enter the small room as well, their eyes darting back looking everywhere and nowhere. No one would meet his gaze.

Casey turned his attention to Duncan, who came bursting through the door, hot on their heels. "Don't even think about it," Casey warned him, pointing to a chair.

"You've got to be shitting me!" Duncan roared. Then he turned to Philippa, whose downturned eyes seemed to give him pause. She actually looked a bit frightened. "Talk!"

Casey moved to Philippa and pulled her close to his side. The sight made Logan calm a bit. Poor Phil's eyes were wide with shock. "She'll talk when you sit down," Casey warned protectively.

With a dramatic growl and a roll of his eyes, Duncan complied, deflating as though all the fight had suddenly left him.

And that's when Philippa began to speak.

Philippa was frazzled, not for the first time today. She'd been so sure of herself until this very moment. Or, more precisely, when the first punch had been thrown. She'd seen Logan pull up in his car and had stalled Duncan as long as possible; she'd known it wouldn't be long.

And what Duncan had said to Logan...she never imagined it would have gone that far.

"I'm so sorry, Logan," she began, fighting to contain her nerves.

Logan seemed to soften and took a step toward her, and she hastily retreated a step in unison.

Casey, misinterpreting her reaction, held him at bay. "Keep to your side of the room," he warned Logan.

Logan looked gutted, worried. "Phil," he whispered.

His eyes instantly met hers in a silent plea. Her heart ached for him. Knowing their mutual history, she quickly put his mind at ease.

"Logan, I don't...I would never think that—" her gaze slid over to Duncan who suddenly couldn't meet her eyes. "I'm keeping my distance to get this all out. You'll distract me," she insisted earnestly.

Logan seemed to believe her. She could see the tension in his neck diminish slightly as he nodded curtly at her, silently beckoning her to continue.

"Last night...well, Logan, last night I found..." her voice trailed off. She didn't know where to begin. How to start. She dropped her arms to her sides limply. "You know what I found."

She watched Logan's eyes go wide and then he covered his face with his hands. She paused for a moment, worried. But then one more glance at Duncan sitting haphazardly in his chair got her going again. Wanker!

"I got up early this morning to meet Veronica to get ready for the blessed event." She couldn't keep the sarcasm out of her voice as she spoke the words.

***flashback***

February 14th, morning

Philippa clutched her toiletry case, holding it firmly as the car stopped in front of the church. How was it possible to be so sure of one's course and so unsure at the same time?

As she reached for the door handle of the town car she'd ordered for the morning, she noticed that her hands were shaking. She'd been too nervous to take Logan's car. If everything went as planned, he'd need it later, and Philippa didn't want to drive on the wrong side of the road for the first time when she had what felt like an army of angry, crack-addicted butterflies swarming her abdomen.

But it was time to finish off this whole mess. Logan might be too good a person to tell Veronica the truth—the whole truth—but Philippa, luckily, wasn't afflicted with such scruples. Being the better person wasn't on her agenda for the day. She had a chance to set things right and she was bound and determined to do so.

She'd asked the driver not to hurry and then spent the car ride rehearsing what she was going to say. She'd set everything up. Logan's mobile phone was off and hidden in her bedside table at the Grand. She'd taken the phone off the hook in the suite. The hotel manager wouldn't wake Logan up until later. Duncan wasn't set to arrive for hours. And Lilly would be delayed. Though even with all her planning, she was well aware everything could still go to shit. But she was maintaining that the power of positive thinking would prevail. Knowing Casey was onboard helped a bit. He had assured her that she was doing the right thing. And he was supplying the getaway car, so there was that.

Now that she'd arrived at the church though, nerves hit her again. But then she thought of the paper tucked into her pocket and anger took over again. Excellent. She needed hate fire to spur her into action. It was now or never.

She gave the church a long look as she alighted from the car and waited for the driver to retrieve her garment bag. She'd lugged her bridesmaid dress over from the hotel, unwilling to trust anyone else with the task. Despite being certain it wouldn't ultimately be needed, Philippa had decided to follow her father's sage advice. "If you do not want it to rain, always carry an umbrella." As a Londoner, she'd laughed off the adage, and it's deeper meaning because it always rained no matter what. But at this moment her father and the garment bag empowered her. Now that she'd brought the dress, she was assured of success and wouldn't need it. And, most importantly, it was always important to keep up pretenses before dropping the bomb.

Deciding it was time to stop dilly-dallying, Philippa made her way around the side of the church to the bride's suite where they would be readying themselves for the wedding. The driver was in tow, still holding the garment bag high so it wouldn't drag. Celeste had insisted on such an early start time, and Philippa had initially been annoyed. Hair and make-up only looked perfect so long. Clearly, Celeste wanted the girls to get ready first so that she got her own hair and makeup done closer to showtime. But now the early hour was something to be grateful for. Philippa needed to speak to Veronica alone.

"Just through there," she instructed the driver, smiling up at him despite her nausea. He proceeded her through the door, holding it open for her. "Thank you," she told him sincerely. It was better for Philippa to keep her hands firmly fastened on her toiletry bag and purse to keep them from shaking even more.

Philippa indicated where to hang the dress and thanked him again as he retreated back through the door they'd just entered. When she turned, she saw Veronica. And the sight startled her.

Veronica looked weary. Exhausted, actually. She was slumped over in an overstuffed, pale pink armchair in one corner of the room, intently studying her own hands. She was so internally engrossed that she hadn't even seemed to notice Philippa's arrival. It broke Philippa's heart.

"I wasn't sure you'd come," Veronica said, still looking at her hands.

So she had noticed her.

"Of course I came," Philippa insisted, sitting down on the ottoman in front of her friend. "That's what friends are for."

Veronica made an unladylike scoff that came out as more of a choke than anything else.

Deep breaths, Philippa, she told herself.

"Veronica—" she began

"Please don't," Veronica countered. "There's nothing to say."

"Despite all of this, I am your friend," she insisted. Philippa reached out to touch Veronica's shoulder and then decided against it. She knew Veronica must feel so alone right now, but she didn't know how to reach her. And what she was about to do, even if for the greater good, wouldn't help matters. "How did last night go with Duncan?" she ventured to ask.

Veronica shrugged and leaned back into the chair, making eye contact with Philippa for the first time. "It went about how one would expect," she monotoned. "We talked. He explained." Veronica shrugged again. She lifted her hands in front of her face and resumed picking at them.

"Veronica, you don't have to marry him," Philippa insisted. "You don't have to do it for Logan—" Veronica flinched at the sound of his name— "but you don't have to marry Duncan either. You don't have to marry anyone. Especially not today."

"That's what my dad said last night," Veronica replied evenly, dropping her hands to her lap again. "But everyone is here: People from work, out-of-town family, half of Southern California. Some distant Kane cousins flew in all the way from Cork."

"That's no reason to marry someone," Philippa pressed.

"Normally I'd agree, but—" Veronica's voice broke a bit and she cleared her throat. When she began again, she sounded more sure of herself. "I did this. I'll see it through."

"I think you should take some time, get to know Duncan more. Learn more about your fiancè. Find out why the rush."

Veronica looked up, studying Philippa carefully. "What do you mean 'why the rush'?"

Philippa groaned internally. She had meant to go about this differently. One more last ditch effort to solve this before going on full-stop. "I don't know why the urgency either. But we both know that Duncan has had some ulterior motives going into this."

"He's not going to run away with Madison Sinclair. He doesn't even like her," Veronica countered. "He explained that, and for what it's worth, I believe him. She's a bitch. That was his mother's —"

"What about Meg Manning?" Philippa cringed as the words crossed her lips. She had not meant to start this way, but there was no going back now.

There was a stunned silence. And then Veronica spoke.

"What about Meg Manning?"

**End Flashback**

"Holy shit," Duncan gasped, his head dropping to his hands.

"Yes, holy shit," Philippa echoed. "Oh good, I assume I can stop my story now, because our friend, here, has caught up." She gestured toward Duncan and then her eyes shot to Logan's. He was furious.

"How could you?" Logan ground out through gritted teeth.

"How could you not?" she countered. A split second later, she took pity on him. None of this was his fault. "Look, I wasn't snooping or anything." He gave her a hard look. "Not much anyway, and you're one to talk."

That silenced him.

"Wait! Finish the story. What about Meg Manning?" Lilly demanded, clearly the only one in the room who was lost. "What does Meg Manning have to do with anything?"

It was Logan who spoke up. "She's just the tip of the iceberg," he announced cryptically, "But others can fill you in. Or your brother," he jeered with a disgusted look at Duncan. Logan then turned to Philippa. "You told her everything?"

Philippa, worried about Logan's reaction, but proud of herself nonetheless, nodded. "Everything."

Logan let out a long exhale and Philippa watched as he fisted and unfisted his hands a few times. "And then she left?" Logan inquired as he began pacing.

"Then she left," Philippa confirmed.

"In my waiting car," Casey supplied. "Which we can track if we want." He pulled out his phone.

Philippa noticed Logan's smirk. She knew he'd appreciate the thoroughness of her getaway plan.

"No need," he said with a shake of his head. Because, of course, Logan knew where Veronica was. He was the only one who would. Philippa had counted on it.

"So this was a setup?" Duncan burst out.

"Let's just say after the come-to-Jesus meeting, we were prepared for all possibilities," Casey shrugged his shoulders casually, proudly.

I could fall in love with this man, Philippa thought.

"Well, where did she go?" Duncan demanded. "I tried calling her. Her phone is off, so I can't track it. I checked and she's not back at the hotel or my place. Keith said she didn't go back home. I need to talk to her. To explain—"

"I think you've done enough, Duncan," Logan interjected. "It's time to let this go. It's time to let her go. In fact, it's probably time for you to go explain things to your guests."

After that, Logan paused for a moment. They all did. They needed a moment to let things set in. But a moment was long enough for Philippa. Logan needed to get on with things.

"Go!" she ordered, with a tip of her head toward the door. "She needs you."

He patted his pockets absently and Philippa knew what he was searching for.

"If you're looking for your keys, they're still in the ignition," she explained wryly, a grin spreading across her face.

"Philippa, I…" he trailed off, unsure of himself. Philippa reached over and pulled him into a long, hug.

"I know; I love you, too. I'm sorry, and you're welcome." And then she pulled back and concentrated on his chocolate brown eyes. "Go!"

Luckily for Philippa, he didn't need to be told a third time. With a silent nod to Casey and Lilly, and a look that could kill at Duncan, Logan left.

Philippa turned to Casey. "Can we get out of here?" she inquired wearily.

He looked down at her and a tender smiled pulled at the corners of his lips in a true Casey-like manner. "I thought you'd never ask," he sighed, leaning into her until their foreheads met.

Philippa, after a moment, remembered that they weren't alone and turned to face Lilly. She eyed Lilly sheepishly. Apologetically. She hadn't had time to bring her in the loop this morning. And Lilly wasn't patient enough to hold out for the end game. "Sorry, Lil. There wasn't time to get into it all. Care to join us for some breakfast?" she asked. "I'll fill you in?"

Lilly seemed oddly still, but her bright green eyes shined mischievously. "Nah," she informed them. "Text me where you end up and I'll join you later. I'd like a moment with my brother before the fireworks begin," she nodded toward the door that connected to the church.

Duncan groaned and leaned back in the chair miserably. Philippa didn't feel the least bit sorry for him. She turned to Casey and said, "Let's get out of here." But then she paused for a moment when the sight of her toiletry bag jogged her memory. "Ooo, grab my dress, please!" she called out enthusiastically as she collected her small bag full of makeup. "It's gorgeous and it's coming with me."

Veronica shivered as she stared blindly out into the ether. The coastal breeze was still chilly. Veronica didn't like being cold. She should have been a June bride, she decided. And then she realized that maybe she still could be. Maybe one day.

What a damn mess this all was. With a sigh, she propped her legs up, digging her feet into the sand a bit, and wrapped her bare arms around them. She leaned forward until her forehead reached her knees, and her eyes then focused on the sand beneath her from between her legs. It was supposed to be her wedding day, and she was sitting on a beach alone. Their beach. Her and Logan's. She didn't even know where he was, but that was probably for the better. She needed some time.

She couldn't, for the life of her, wrap her head around how everything had gone so colossally wrong.

***Flashback***

February 14th, morning at the church

"What about Meg Manning?"

Veronica had been in a sort of fog since speaking to Logan the previous night, but Philippa's question snapped her out of it, her full attention was finally in the present. Meg Manning? That was a name she hadn't heard in years. Duncan and Meg had dated after Veronica and Duncan had. Way back in high school. But they'd broken up when Duncan had left for college. It was all a lifetime ago. What did Meg Manning have to do with anything? What could Philippa possibly know that Veronica didn't?

Veronica felt her head cock to one side. "What about Meg Manning?" she asked curtly. More curtly than she'd intended.

Philippa looked a bit taken aback by Veronica's visceral reaction, but it only lasted a moment. She took a deep, steadying breath and let it out slowly. "Last night—"

"No," Veronica interrupted, her eyes not leaving her friend's. She didn't want to talk about last night. Last night had been awful. It had been terrible. At first Duncan had been furious and wouldn't let up about Logan. And then he'd just let it all go and explained. Explained everything. The two of them had talked like civilized human beings. They'd cleared the air—put everything out on the table. It had been calm, something she'd never be able to have with Logan. An adult conversation. Duncan had admitted that Celeste had considered Madison, but that he'd never been interested. He'd been placating his mother. Of course he had! And anyway, Madison wasn't the point. Duncan had proven himself to be an adult and discussed things with her.

That's why Duncan was the sane choice. The logical choice. The obvious, rational choice. And now Veronica wasn't interested in a change of subject. She didn't need Philippa to start at the beginning of the story or last night or last month or three months ago. She was tired of beating around the bush. She wanted Philippa to get to the point. "How do you know about Meg Manning? What does Duncan's high school girlfriend have to do with anything? I haven't heard about Meg in years."

"Not just high school, Veronica," Philippa let her head fall back and she gazed heavenward for a moment before focusing back on Veronica. "Casey looked into it last night. While Duncan was at Dartmouth, Meg was at Middlebury. It's not very far," she explained.

"I know where the schools are," Veronica snapped, jumping up to standing. She began pacing. "This was all years ago. What does this have to do with me? With now?"

"There was more to the email between Celeste and Duncan, Veronica. Heaps more."

Veronica's jaw tensed as she spun around to face Philippa. She didn't know what to say. Duncan had explained. But Philippa clearly knew something that Veronica didn't. She was torn between wanting to know everything and running away. Surely Philippa couldn't blame her. When she didn't say anything, Philippa continued.

"It's not exactly clear if they were in contact then—the undergraduate years I mean—but then Duncan went to Yale for his graduate degree."

Veronica nodded her head to press Philippa further. "Are you going to spill or do I need to tip you over?"

"And Meg went to Quinnipiac."

Now Veronica was furious. What did anything have to do with anything? She threw Philippa an ugly, questioning look. "Never heard of it!" she snipped.

"Sorry, you're the one who lives here. You said you knew where schools were. They're both in Connecticut. They're close. Very close." Philippa took in another exasperated, choppy breath. "They were together in some way during that time."

"Are you trying to say that they're still together?" Veronica pressed, incredulous. If they weren't together she was unsure how this affected her.

"No," Philippa explained cautiously as she produced papers from her toiletry bag and slowly unfolded them. They were the emails Veronica had already seen. The ones Logan had shown her.

"Logan showed those to me last night," Veronica pointed out.

"Yes, of course, but there were more emails on that chain that Logan didn't show you. Things didn't end well between Meg and Duncan. Celeste and Jake learned of their…" Philippa struggled for the right word, "...relationship. Meg was deemed unacceptable. Her parents are some kind of religious zealots. What is it with you Americans and your cults?" Philippa huffed before she continued. "Well, he was forced to cut things off and to move back to California. They wanted him far, far away from Meg." Philippa cocked her head to one side, thinking. "Actually, I don't know how deeply Mister Kane is involved, but I know Celeste—"

"Would you just spit it out?" Veronica hissed, exhausted with tiny meaningless details.

Philippa looked her square in the eyes. "Celeste didn't want Duncan to make the same mistakes his father had." She paused for a split second before she added, "With your mother."

What? Jake and Lianne? No! The wind was knocked out of her. Literally knocked out of her. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't swallow. She couldn't receive air. The sensation lasted an indeterminable length of time. It seemed like an eternity, but Philippa's expression changed very little. How could she be choking in front of someone and them not react?

But then Veronica realized that she could breathe after all and gasped for air. She stopped pacing and bent forward at the waist, clutching her knees with her hands.

Philippa reacted then, reaching forward to stroke Veronica's back in strong, circular motions. The action felt good for a moment until Veronica remembered where she was—where they were—and pulled away. She snatched the papers from Philippa's hand.

"No, there's some kind of mistake," Veronica began. "My mom never—"

"It's true," Philippa told her. "Veronica, I'm sorry, but..."

Veronica knew Philippa was trying to catch her glance, so Veronica's eyes remained glued to the stack of papers in front of her. She couldn't read them. Her eyes were blurry and her hands shook too much. She tried, instead to concentrate on Philippa's words.

"Casey spoke with his parents. We looked at pictures from their high school yearbook. They all went to school together. Jake Kane and your mother were definitely an item. They went to prom. Apparently—"

"Stop!" Veronica cried, her head swimming. "Stop, please."

Philippa did.

Lianne had always been a sore spot for Veronica. The years of alcohol abuse. The affairs. And then she'd left. With Veronica's college money. She didn't want to hear about high school prom! Nothing was making sense. She buried her face in her hands, wrinkling up the papers she still held.

"Why are you telling me this?" Her voice cracked in anguish, but Veronica didn't care.

Philippa took the papers from her hand and flipped to the final page.

"Because you need to see who you're marrying," she informed her, prying Veronica's fingers from her face and thrusting the final page of the stack into her hands.

DNA PATERNITY EVALUATION REPORT

CASE NUMBER: 42013456

MOTHER: LIANNE REYNOLDS

CHILD: VERONICA MARS

ALLEGED FATHER: J. K.

DATE DRAWN: 07/10/2014

Several numbers lined the page. They meant nothing to Veronica, so she skimmed to the paragraph under the numbers.

A COMPARISON OF THE DNA PROFILES OF VERONICA MARS AND J. K. ...

"No!" she gasped. Bile rose in Veronica's stomach again. She couldn't finish the paragraph. Her knees began to buckle. Philippa caught her easily. And then other arms held her firm while Philippa knelt in front of her.

"He's not your father, Veronica," Philippa confirmed, reaching for her. The arms around her steadied her. Veronica didn't know who was holding her up, but Philippa was looking into her eyes. "Of course he's not. They wouldn't let you marry Duncan if Jake Kane was your father."

Veronica's breaths started to even out. Of course Philippa was right. Of course. Veronica looked at the paper again.

Philippa read for her. "The summary says: Based on the testing results, the probability of paternity is zero percent." After that, Philippa's voice had faded into the abyss. And her voice was joined by another, deeper one. "But the bigger issue is that it was a possibility."

And Veronica knew that she needed to escape. Run. She was good at running. She could deal with all this later.

"I need to go," Veronica stated. Someone could come in. Lilly was sure to be here soon. Celeste was getting ready at the hotel, but Lilly would come. And Duncan. And Logan. Logan. Part of her wanted him so badly. He was her person. He was the one she could tell.

But Logan already knew, didn't he? He hadn't told her. Instead he'd told her he loved her, and she'd...

It was all too much.

"I have to go!" Veronica repeated, her voice warbling a bit.

"Yes, just a moment. You need to relax before you drive," Philippa's calm voice explained.

"Relax?" Veronica choked.

"Just calm down a little," the voice still holding her up stated in her ear. Casey's voice.

"Here," Philippa insisted, pressing a bottle of orange juice into Veronica's hands. "The sugar will do you good. You've had a shock."

Veronica scoffed. "Ya think?" The comment made her cackle. Actually cackle. Did someone hear that? It had been quite a loud screech.

"People will be here soon!" Veronica exclaimed, starting to panic again.

"We padded the time a bit. I was early," Philippa explained. "Drink!" she ordered, her voice pointed but kind. "It'll help. Really, it will."

Veronica had no choice but to comply. Philippa was right. When she finished the entire bottle, she extricated herself from Casey's grasp and rounded on the couple. She didn't know what to say, though. The myriad of emotions swirling through her didn't lend themselves to practical thought.

Philippa seemed to understand. "It's okay," she cooed. "I'm so so sorry!" she explained. "I didn't know what else to do."

Veronica felt the sugar begin to kick in and a much-needed calm settled through her. She still needed to go, though. She needed to be alone for a while.

Again reading her mind, Philippa spoke, "You can take Casey's car. It's just outside."

Casey dug into his pockets and produced his keys for her. "I know it doesn't seem like it right now, but you're going to be okay," he consoled. "You were always going to be okay, Veronica Mars, but now it's even more true."

Veronica nodded, unsure but somehow comforted. She couldn't speak. Not yet. She blinked back tears and swiped the keys from his hand. When she got to the door, she turned back to face the couple.

"Tell my dad?" she squeaked. She was unable to tell him herself, but she didn't want him to worry.

"When the time is right," Philippa confirmed cryptically. Veronica didn't care. She left without looking back. Someone else could clean up the mess the Kanes had made. She was done.

**End flashback**

Logan had been right. Duncan Kane had had to check her paternity before he'd proposed to make sure they weren't siblings. And Duncan had never intended to tell her. Neither of them had. But Logan had tried to warn her all along. Veronica was devastated. She couldn't even begin to wrap her head around it. She was angry with them all. But then she thought about having to tell her father the news and began to understand why Logan had kept the information to himself. She couldn't tell her father. Ever.

She sat, considering the sand, for an eternity. Another shiver racked her body, but she couldn't bring herself to move. She didn't know where to go. The fact that work was her best option of escape was perhaps the saddest part of all this. She laughed out loud at the thought. At least she hadn't quit yet. She hadn't let the Kane's take that from her.

A few rays of sunshine broke through the murky grey morning fog, and Veronica flopped back onto the cold sand and let the narrow slit of sun warm her skin. She'd bolted without so much as a sweatshirt. What the hell was she going to do now? How could she face everyone again? How would she face Logan again? Luckily she could lie right here and take the time she needed. She closed her eyes and began to drift off, the morning's drama neatly compartmentalized for the moment. And it was heavenly.

"This sand taken?" a cautious, familiar voice asked from behind her.

Veronica whipped around to find Logan standing behind her, his arms laden with a yoga mat and some towels. She hadn't even heard him approach. She could have been asleep for quite a while for all she knew. She looked back out to the ocean, taking one last second for herself. Logan Echolls, her friend, was who she needed right now. She wondered which Logan stood on the beach today. She'd have to take a chance.

"No blanket?" she inquired. She didn't know why she said that. It had popped out before she could stop herself.

"Alas…" Logan stated, indicating the items in his hands, "Guess everyone does grow up." There was a trace of sadness in his words. "Even me."

Veronica eyed him for a moment. The sand beneath her was cold. She held her hand out, silently reaching for the closest yoga mat. "Yes, but why didn't anyone tell us that adulting sucked?"

"Would you want to go back in time and warn us?" he challenged.

She shook her head. "How'd you find me?" But she was afraid she already knew the answer. This beach...well, she now knew that it probably meant a lot to him too.

He didn't answer directly but just looked out into the abyss of the Pacific. "I came here a lot after you left. When you moved to Palo Alto," he clarified, still towering over her. "It made me feel close to you. It felt like…"

"Our spot?" she finished for him. She was overwhelmed. She hadn't known until recently on the boat how much that night so many years ago had meant to him. And since she'd been engaged to Duncan at the time, she had tried to block it out. But now… She tipped her head to look up at him.

"It's a good spot," he confirmed, his lips molded into a cocky smirk. "Good memories."

She let a moment pass. "Some of my best," she agreed.

She took his light shrug to be an agreement. He didn't hand over the yoga mat though. Instead, he laid it out and waited until she'd settled herself on top of it before settling in next to her.

"I'm sorry," he stated genuinely and stared off into the ocean. She watched as Logan fisted some dry sand and held it in his hand, he then opened his fingers, letting the sand fall through them back to the ground.

"Me too," she said, leaning into his side. He was warm. So warm.

"Veronica, You're freezing!" he observed, quickly moving to pull her into him. He pulled a towel from where he'd dropped them behind the mat and wrapped one around her. He began vigorously rubbing up and down her arms. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Veronica shrugged. "It was starting to warm up. And after a while, you don't feel the cold anymore." But then her teeth started to chatter. The warmth on the outside was making her feel chilled to the bone inside.

Logan pulled her onto his lap and then took another towel and wrapped it around them both. He tucked her under his chin and leaned back a bit.

Veronica followed his gaze and found herself wondering, not for the first time, how far they could really see. It looked like an eternity stretched before her, but in reality, it could be a few hundred yards.

"Just under three miles," he answered, surprising her.

"What?" Veronica blinked, momentarily perplexed.

"When we were kids you once asked me how far we could see from the shore, so I looked it up last year. It's about two point nine miles for the average person." He chuckled momentarily. "You're pretty short, so maybe two point five for you."

Veronica gave him a playful elbow to the ribs and then let out a long exhale, letting everything he'd said over the past few days wash over her. Dancing lessons. Their song. Him coming here to win her over. And now, sitting here, tucked under Logan—surrounded by Logan—it was all so clear. She loved him. She really loved him. She loved Logan Echolls. She couldn't believe she'd never told him. She couldn't believe all the time she'd wasted. Veronica closed her eyes and leaned into him, relishing in the feeling when he instinctively pulled her in closer. She'd made such a mess of things.

All that time with Duncan, she'd been fooling herself. She had been so scared of being alone that she'd almost sentenced herself to a lonely life. It bothered her. Probably about as much as it had bothered Logan to watch. She didn't like how much she had changed. She couldn't reconcile the person she saw herself as, strong and independent, with the person she had become, manipulated and coerced. And yet that is what had happened; she'd somehow lost herself. The fear of being alone had won out. This whole experience had been...humbling. And yet there was something she could do about it. But not yet. Not now. She needed to sort herself out before she could even think of that. But having Logan back as a friend. Well, it was a good start.

She shook her head, clearing her thoughts of philosophy and concentrating on the here and now. Logan's chin disappeared and he pressed a featherlight kiss into the top of her head. Tingley fireworks exploded on her skin from the point of contact and ran all the way to her toes, causing her to shiver.

"You're not warming up yet?" Logan asked from above her, rubbing her arms again before turning his head so that his pressed right where his lips had been. It caused a similar reaction, and Logan, interpreting it as chill, began rubbing up and down her arms again.

"Yeah, a bit.," she replied quietly, "Thanks. I'm just thinking."

"About what?" he insisted. Veronica could feel his breath blowing the wispy hair on the top of her head.

"About the church. About the wedding...Duncan... About how I have to go back."

"You don't need to go back there," he insisted, turning her in his arms and looking suddenly murderously angry. "Veronica, you can't seriously—"

"No!" she interrupted him, unwrapping one arm from the towel and placing it on his arm to calm him. "Not to marry him," she explained quickly, "to finalize things. I can't leave things like that."

He visibly relaxed, the color draining from his face. It made her snicker.

"Oh my God, you should've seen your face just now!" Veronica choked trying to hold back her snicker.

"Stop!" he commanded petulantly, looking away from her. But once she began laughing, she couldn't stop. Roll after roll of inappropriate and unladylike laughter burst from her. "Shut up!" he chided playfully, giving her a little shove off his lap. "You have no idea what you've put me through these past few weeks!" he groaned seriously. But he smiled after a moment. The old Logan Echolls sly smile when he refused to laugh on principle.

"Sorry!" she managed when she'd calmed down a little. "I'm not making fun of you. This whole situation is just so absurd!"

"Yes!" he burst out, looking heavenward. "Yes, it has all been beyond absurd! Hence, the boat! And exposing the Madison dinner. But it all kept pushing you farther away from me."

"You could have just been straight with me," she pressed. "Had a rational conversation." She didn't say it angrily, but she wanted to make her point.

"What, like last night at the rehearsal dinner?" Logan scoffed. "That went just swimmingly!" He rolled his eyes so far back that she could only see white.

Veronica exhaled out a deep breath. He hadn't handled anything very well, but she knew at the same time that she had been too stubborn to listen. She'd been on fast-forward trying to tie up all loose ends before Logan could tell her he was engaged to Philippa. It all seemed so stupid now. So out of character.

Veronica turned all the way around and rested on her knees in front of him. "I'm sorry. Communication doesn't seem to be our thing."

"I don't think it ever was our thing," Logan scoffed. "If I'd just...all those years ago—"

"It doesn't matter now," she insisted. She couldn't talk about it now. She had too much swimming in her head to get into it. And the day wasn't over yet.

When he spoke he wasn't angry or frustrated. He just sounded tired. "Oh, that's right, let's put off all serious conversation, huh?"

Veronica shook her head. "No, not forever. But for today yes." She spun back around and sat down between his legs again, peering off over the horizon. "Today I still have to deal with the mess I made—"

"We made!" he corrected.

"It's not four hundred of your closest friends and family waiting at a church," Veronica pointed out.

"Touchè," Logan said. "Maybe if I'd done things right, it might have been," he whispered.

Veronica decided to let that go. It was a discussion for another time. Right now she had to concentrate on her next move. And, for once, it could not be to run.

She slid off the yoga mat and began folding the towel she'd had around her shoulders. "Will you take me back?" she asked. "I need to explain and talk to my dad, my family, my co-workers… well, everyone."

Logan stood up and began rolling up the yoga mat. "What are you going to tell them?" he asked curiously.

"The truth," she insisted, looking up at him. "That this union wasn't right from the start. That just because Duncan and I both made rash and stupid choices, it doesn't mean that we had to continue making them."

"How very...mature," Logan said diplomatically. He held a hand out to her and she took it, letting him pull her up to standing.

Veronica smiled. He knew her too well to believe it would all be as civilized as that. "Oh no, that's just the public statement. I plan to have a very different conversation with Duncan and Celeste behind closed doors...one that involves my fists of fury." Veronica pursed her lips into a tough face and put up her dukes, taking a few wide swings at an invisible opponent.

Logan smiled down at her. "That's my girl!" he said casually—proudly, throwing an arm over her shoulder and walking her toward the parking lot.

Early February 15th

Logan walked into Phil's suite at the Grand with a bit of a spring in his step. It was light outside, but just. Dawn had broken as he'd driven down the Pacific Coast Highway, and he'd pulled to the side of the road for a while enjoyed watching listening to the waves and watching the first rays of sunshine appear over the mountains to the East.

Absentmindedly, Logan threw his keys on the wet bar with a touch more force than he had intended. The crash of metal on granite as his keys slid made him wince slightly. Phil had gotten up early for the wedding the previous morning and it was barely morning. She was probably asleep. It had taken a while for him to help Veronica get sorted out. He'd been up all night, and he was beyond tired now. But it was tired in a good way for the first time in a long while, he realized. It was a good exhaustion, a healthy one. A fulfilled one.

"Who's there?" a strong masculine voice shouted from the direction of Philippa's bedroom as the door swung open with such force that it hit the wall behind it with a loud crash. And in the doorway stood Casey naked-as-the-day-he-was-born Gant.

Logan was instantly awake, because holy hell, it was so much more than he had ever intended to see of the man.

"It's just me, Casey," Logan said, hissing as if his eyes burned. He did an exaggerated wince and then made a point of locking his gaze on Casey's.

Casey seemed not at all concerned with his own lack of attire. "Oh, Logan. It's you!" he smiled.

"Who else would it be? For fuck's sake, go put on some clothes!" Logan groaned, shaking his head ruefully.

Philippa was next to emerge from the room, dressed only in Casey's button-down tux shirt, which, Logan noticed, left little to the imagination as well. "Logan, why are you here? Where's Veronica?"

"Seriously, Phil?" he laughed, holding his hand up in front of him to block his view of both of them from the neck down.

"I tried to call you! What happened?" she insisted, taking a step toward him.

"My phone is here somewhere," he informed her, swinging around the common room to see if it was in sight."

"Oh yes, I hid it in my room. I'd forgotten," Philippa laughed, stealing a knowing glance at still-naked Casey. "I did charge it at least," she argued.

"Along with your naked boyfriend." Logan responded, "Though he's less good at staying hidden, clearly."

"Oh for heaven's sake, don't be such an American prude!" Philippa made an exaggerated puff which blew her wispy bangs off her forehead. "Tell us everything!" She pulled Logan over to the couch and flopped down next to him. Then she followed his gaze back to Casey. "For heaven's sake. Logan, you've seen a winkle before; you have one after all!" she chided with a wave of her arms.

"Well, I can't concentrate with his winkle staring at me," Logan insisted, averting his eyes. Thankfully Casey finally took pity on them and disappeared into Phil's room. Logan then turned to her and took in her shit-eating grin and post-coital hair. "No need to ask what you've been up to this evening, is there?"

Philippa's smile grew so wide that she blushed and had to bite her lip to contain it. "Clearly not," she intoned, rallying with her chin held high.

Logan decided that it was time Phil got a little taste of her own medicine. After all, she'd done plenty of scheming of her own. At that moment, Casey reappeared, wearing boxers and holding Logan's phone. Philippa took it from him and placed it on the coffee table.

"You call that dressed?" Logan asked.

"Philippa's wearing my shirt," Casey warned as he tapped Philippa on the shoulder. "If you want her to hand it over, I —"

Logan waved his hands furiously. "No, no," he insisted. "Boxers will do."

Philippa just laughed at him. She stood up briefly to let Casey sit in her place and then proceeded to sit back down on his lap. Casey and Philippa were going to be one of those touchy-feely couples, he just knew it.

"Alrighty, we're all here now and semi-clad. Let's hear it, then." Philippa demanded, excitement and nervous energy radiating from her skin.

Logan decided to let her sweat it out. "Where do you want me to begin?"

"Where is Veronica?!" she screeched, her hands mimicking strangling him.

Logan leaned back on the couch and did an exaggerated scratch of his chin. "I'd say by now she's...somewhere over Arizona...maybe New Mexico…" he surmised.

Phil's gasp was loud enough to wake the whole floor. "She ran?"

Logan wouldn't be moved. "No...she flew."

Philippa groaned. "On a plane?"

Logan exaggeratedly rolled his eyes for effect. This was too much fun. "Well, unless she sprouted wings…"

Philippa made a move to attack him, but Casey put an arm around her and held on tight. "Only you could be a cheeky bastard at a time like this. I want to know what's going on."

"Annoying when people keep you out of the loop, isn't it?" Logan deadpanned, leaning back for protection. "Make major decisions without consulting people…"

Philippa's jaw jutted out and her eyes narrowed into tiny slits shooting daggers at him. "I genuinely hate you right now."

Logan shrugged. Her unadulterated loathing amused him more than anything. But him not taking the bait just got her more riled up. He waited one more moment, savoring the control.

"You know, if I killed you right now and then caught a Concorde, I'd be home in time to have an alibi," she ground out through gritted teeth.

"It's a good thing for me, then, that they stopped flying those commercially years ago," Logan casually replied as if he had not a care in the world.

Logan easily caught Philippa when she launched herself at him. Casey seemed to have no issue with his girlfriend getting physical with Logan. Logan just laughed until Philippa got a particularly good grip on one nipple and twisted. Hard.

"Ouch! Mercy!" he cried out, bending over in an effort to thwart her, still laughing as he struggled to pry her hands off him. "Okay, okay, I'll talk!"

Philippa immediately let go and slid off his lap. This time she settled herself on the opposite side of Logan rather than on Casey. She sat regally without her spine touching the back of the sofa. She looked about as prim and proper as someone could look while wearing only a man's dress shirt and with hair all askew. As if sensing this, she smoothed her hair out of her face from the tussle and then smiled patronizingly at him. "Please proceed," she said calmly.

"I met Veronica on the beach—"

"Shag Beach?" Philippa asked, leaning forward again, shining with visible excitement.

"Dog Beach," he stated plainly.

"Shag Beach!" Philippa sing-songed, clapping silently. "Yes! Go on, go on!"

"I'm trying to!" Logan exclaimed, but he knew he was smiling too. "We talked for a while..." Logan let out a long sigh.

"You talked?" Philippa's excitement was gone.

"Yes, talked!" Logan stood. Finally at peace with his inability to sit still, he crossed over to the mini-fridge and grabbed a bottled water from inside. He didn't drink from it though. He just tossed it around a bit between his two hands. "Then she went back to the church and spoke to the guests."

"Yes, yes, Lilly already told me all that. But then she left with you. So where is she now?" Philippa was leaning so far forward on her seat that Logan thought she'd fall right off.

"We went with the sheriff back to his place, talked some more, booked a flight, Veronica packed her bags and passport, and—"

"She ran!?" Philippa squeaked incredulously.

Logan shook his head as he fiddled with the bottle a bit more, unscrewing the cap and then screwing it back on again. "Then she went on a honeymoon. By herself," he smiled, thinking about how lost yet hopeful Veronica had looked when he'd driven her up to LAX. It had been a long trip. How she'd turned to face him and kissed him gently on the lips before she'd said she'd see him later when she was done 'doing whatever.' Logan glanced up at Philippa and spoke again, "She's on her way to Florence."

"So why are you here?" Philippa asked cautiously, carefully, as if she was suddenly fearful of pushing him too hard.

"Because this isn't a fairy tale, my dear," Logan said, finally taking a pull from the water bottle. "Because she needs time. She needs space. To do...whatever. Whatever it is Veronica Mars does when she leaves."

"So she ran!" Philippa repeated, this time getting up and crossing over to him. She pulled him into a sideways hug. He let himself sink into her a little. Logan was so tired and Philippa was so...stable. He needed that stability. He leaned in until his cheek hit the top of her head and just stayed there a moment.

"I don't think so," he said after a moment. "I mean she might have, but we did what we set out to do."

"We set out for her to be with you," Philippa reminded him.

"Well, she's not with Duncan, and that will have to be enough," he reminded her.

"Come on, guys," Casey's voice cut through the room, reminding Logan that he and Philippa weren't alone. "This is Veronica Mars we're talking about here." Casey came over and ruffled Logan's hair a little, his optimistic smile back in place. "She'll come around. She's a runner, but a fighter."

Logan had to agree with the last part. Veronica Mars didn't ever let herself be a victim for long.

"So," Philippa spoke, looking up at him. Her face was serene and quiet. Suddenly she seemed as tired as he was. "What now?"

Logan laughed slightly because he realized that he didn't have a clue. This chapter was over, and now that his objective to break up a wedding was a success, he wasn't sure how to proceed.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. Philippa jumped out of his arms and took off like a shot. "Oo, that'll be Lilly," she sing-songed. "Which unfortunately means you'll have to just repeat that whole story again to her. But this time we get to get the Kane's perspective." Philippa clapped a few times joyously before she swung the door open to reveal Lilly. "Perfect timing!" she gushed.

Lilly's cheerful voice filled the room. "I waited as long as I could for you two to finish your epic sexscapade, but I couldn't stay away any longer. I thought I'd have to wake you up—" Lilly stopped short, her eyes finally sliding over to where Casey and Logan stood. Her jaw dropped. "Why do I suddenly get the feeling that I missed out on something truly entertaining here last night?" she asked slyly.

"Don't look at me," Logan said, his hands up in surrender. "I just got here."

Lilly's face fell. "You guys are too boring." Then she smiled at Casey. "Well, at least you two got some action. I, on the other hand, listened to Celeste bitch at Duncan."

"Oh yes, tell us everything," Philippa instructed, grabbing Lilly by the hand and pulling her to the sofa for an interrogation.

"Ugh," Lilly responded with a roll of her eyes. "Trust me, you don't want to know. I don't even want to talk about it," she said as she flopped down.

Philippa looked murderous again. "Fabulous," she whined, "Between the two of you, I might be able to extrapolate nearly one-quarter of the story! And it was me who was the catalyst. You're welcome, by the way."

It was Logan who spoke up. "Thank you, Phil," he said gently.

Philippa threw him a wary glance. "Yeah, right."

Logan knew she wasn't really mad. Annoyed maybe, but not mad. He crossed the room and pulled her into him for a big long hug which Lilly joined in on. "No, really, thank you."

They stayed that way for a while, just holding one another. They'd done it. Logan didn't think any of them could believe it. Lilly sniffled a few unshed tears away which set Philippa off. She used Logan's shirt to wipe her face, which made him chuckle and playfully shove her away.

Casey cleared his throat and they all snickered and turned to him. "Guys, if this little ménage à trois has concluded, I'd like to head back to bed. I didn't get much sleep last night." He winked at Philippa whose face turned magenta.

Lilly pulled away and eyed them all wearily. "Oh, did I forget to mention the part where Celeste is trying to get them to revoke your visa?" Lilly said, one side of her mouth much higher than the other. "You think I'm kidding, but if I were you, I'd hop a flight home as soon as possible." Then she threw a thumb in Logan's direction, "And you might want to take him with you." Lilly winced. "For such a tight ass, Celeste has many friends in low places and carries an unregistered handgun in her glove compartment." Lilly shuddered dramatically. When no one moved, she shook her head and rolled her eyes once again as she crossed the room to pick up the room service menu. "And still you think I'm kidding."

"No, we don't!" Logan, Philippa, and Casey chorused in reply.

"I'll start packing," Philippa sighed, spinning in a small circle as if taking in her surroundings. She stopped turning when she was facing Logan. "You coming?"

Logan shook his head. "No, I'll take my chances. And I've neglected the LA office long enough. Believe it or not, there are abusers available domestically for me to deal with."

"You don't say," Philippa cooed sarcastically. Then she dropped her head. "It's a shame, though. I've gotten used to having you nearby."

Logan reached out his hand to Philippa and she took it quietly. They stood that way for a moment. "Me too."

"But I know it's time. Time to go back to reality. People count on me too. And I'm sure I'll see you soon. " She pursed her lips a bit and snuck a glance at Casey, who had remained uncharacteristically quiet through this exchange. Logan let go of her hand and she walked straight into Casey's arms. "How about you? Care to fly me home?"

Casey let out a long breath as he folded her tightly into him for a moment before pulling back until their foreheads touched. Then he placed a chaste kiss on her chin. "I need to wrap a few things here up this afternoon, but I can probably take you back tomorrow. Things at the publishing house pretty much run themselves. I'm essentially a glorified board member these days." He shook his head. "And I'm not ready to leave you. Things just...just started."

"Well, ICE doesn't open for a few hours, so you're probably safe from getting booted out of the country for now," Logan teased them both.

Lilly spoke up next. "It's true. But don't take any chances and stay here. Let Casey take you home. I don't think they'll kick in his door before tomorrow at the earliest."

Philippa nodded. "I think that can be arranged. And, luckily for us, check out isn't until noon," she said as she turned and pulled Casey back to the bedroom. "Cheers, everyone," she called out to Logan and Lilly as they reached the threshold waving over her shoulder but not looking back.

It was so like Philippa. She always avoided goodbyes.

When they were out of the room, Lilly kicked off her sandals and hopped onto the sofa, pulling one leg underneath her. "Ew," she muttered. "They're annoyingly cute. But in, you know, a perfect for each other kind of way. I'm going to get diabetes if I spend another moment in their presence."

"No, they're great. One good thing came of all this." Logan suddenly was uncomfortable in the suit shirt he'd been wearing for much too long. He walked into his room and peeled off what was left of his wrinkled suit, finding a Dandy Warhols shirt from ages ago on the chair in the corner of the room. He slipped it on and then pulled on some jeans.

When he rejoined Lilly, she smiled brightly up at him. "I remember that concert! You, me, Duncan and Veronica...our first joint." she smiled, lost in her reminiscing. "All you need is a flannel shirt and the look is complete. God, we all used to get into so much trouble in those days."

Logan laughed at that. "Um...i just broke up a wedding and helped the bride skip the country. I'd say not much has changed."

Lilly shrugged. "Maybe not," she agreed. Just then her stomach rumbled loudly enough to wake the dead and she laughed heartily. "I think we should feed the beast," Lilly announced.

Suddenly realizing that he was starving too, Logan smiled and seated himself next to her. He stole the menu from her hands, ignoring her harumph of protest. "Yeah, I could go for some room service."

Lilly's eyes went wide with incredulity. She ripped the menu out of his hands and dropped it on the table with such a look of distaste that Logan would swear she'd eaten a lemon. "Oh no! You're not getting off that easy. You've left me out of the loop too many times these past few weeks," she stated plainly. "We're getting out of this hellhole. You're taking me out to a real brunch, somewhere nice—complete with mimosas—before you head off to La La Land and leave me here alone with the sharks."

"Okay, but I'm not staying in Neptune. I'm not willing to risk running into anyone who was at that wedding."

"Excellent, because, as it turns out, I've had a hankering for Ramos House's cinnamon beignets. San Juan Capistrano is perfect. The drive will give them time to open and you and I time to compare notes."

How could he ever say no to Lilly? And if she was willing to talk, so was he. Logan nodded to her. "I'm in. Go grab your stuff, I'll meet you in the lobby in thirty minutes."

Lilly's eyes brightened once again and she hopped up and skipped for the door. "Ta-ta, Lover," she called out as she slid out the door.

When the door closed behind Lilly, Logan picked his phone up off the coffee table. There were a plethora of missed calls from everyone and their mother. He erased the voicemails without reading them and scanned the texts. He'd straightened things out with everyone he cared about. Even Veronica—well, mostly.

He pulled up her name in iMessage and composed a text, quickly hitting send before he lost his nerve. He set the phone down and then picked it back up again. Obsessing belatedly over what he'd written.

Logan: I hope that Florence is everything you hoped it would be. I know you're off to find yourself, but please let me know when you've arrived safely. Lilly will worry.

He got a kick out of the Lilly part. Lilly never worried about anyone that wasn't Lilly. He couldn't leave things like that—a joke.

Logan: I worry too. Stay safe, V. Come home soon...no strings attached. Whatever you and I are meant to be is fine, as long as you're in my life. Love you. -L

Logan clicked his phone to sleep and then stood up wearily in search of socks and shoes. He was bone tired and emotionally spent, but getting out of Neptune was top of his agenda for the morning.

He slipped his phone into his back pocket as he made his way into the bedroom to throw all his things into a bag. Veronica would come back, and she wouldn't be married to Duncan. Logan knew that he would have to work on being okay with whatever happened beyond that. He'd done what he'd set out to do.

He'd also learned his lesson about tempting fate. Lack of communication had gotten them into this mess. He couldn't risk it happening again. If—no when—she came back, he'd tell her how he felt all over again until it sunk in. He had faith in her. In them. Now he just had to have faith that everything would work out the way it was meant to.

A/N: Yay, I'm so glad you're still with me! Thanks for all the reads and comments. I totally underestimated my ability to get these two together, so there will be one more chapter. I need a little more time to wrap this story up. It's not written, but I'll do my best to get it going.

As always, thanks to kmd0107 and Wolfe80 for their hard work and encouragement. And my hat is off to jmazzy for so expeditiously coming up with a way to work the paragraph that had stumped me for months — two minutes with her on the case and it all came together. You ladies rock!