Here’s the thing.
Veronica knows she’s maybe half insane. For fixating on it, definitely. For feeling it, maybe. For doing something about it… maybe? Maybe not? Who knows.
What she does know is she never stopped loving Logan. There were these nine pesky little years, no talking, no interactions (because magazine covers don’t count), no nothing. Nothing concrete, at least. But she knows it, and everyone knows it, really, that falling out of love with Logan wasn’t an option on the table. Or maybe it was, but Veronica hasn’t had a great track record when it comes to looking at all her options and weighing them equally, no matter how adamant she is that she’s being completely unpartisan. Sometimes closing a blind eye is her way of coping, her way of being a better person, even.
But the thing is, while she, as mentioned, never stopped loving Logan, she’s pretty sure she fell in love with him again somewhere along the way leading them to this moment in their living room/dining room/probably the dog’s room too. (One could argue it’s also Logan’s workout room, and his bike storage room, but Veronica’s trying really hard for it to be neither of these things.)
It’s stupid, really. Seriously, it is.
But after years of being in love with the memory of Logan, the spirit of him, after using that basis to jump headfirst into a new relationship way too fast (although it worked, this time, so screw anyone’s opinion at this point), it hit her in the face that she’s in love with him. The new him. The him he became when she was gone. That improved version, who’s responsible and won’t take the shit she hurls at him without blinking just because he doesn’t want to lose her. (She also likes to think she doesn’t hurl nearly as much shit at him as she used to when they were younger.)
She’s aware her love for the hot Navy pilot version of Logan is not breaking news, but it never occurred to her that there had been a shift until she had a client this morning who had a husband in the Air Force who was currently deployed, and when her client commented that “we love what they’re doing for their country but we sure miss them when they’re off saving it” after Veronica told her she had a boyfriend in the Navy to assure the woman of her familiarity with the situation, she realized that the woman was exactly right. Logan flying planes, Logan serving his country, she loves it. Loves the pinched face he makes when anyone implies Air Force pilots are the same as Navy pilots (or, God forbid, better). (So she certainly won’t tell him she good as compared him to one of those pilots who can’t even begin to know how to land on an aircraft carrier.)
And it’s ridiculous because they’ve been back together for something like two years by now (they’re never sure whether they’re supposed to count the first 6 months of deployment, because they never made it “official” even if Veronica probably would have piano-wired his ass if he’d tried anything with anyone else) and Veronica’s never really told him she loves him, which is such a ridiculous oversight because they live together and they’ve known each other for fifteen years and she knows he’s the love of her life or whatever crap.
And since they got Pony, it feels kind of weird to say it for the first time so far into their relationship, because she knows Logan will know because that’s how he is, he remembers anniversaries and I love yous and the number of the room at the Camelot in front of which they first kissed.
Except now she’s armed with her little realization and she can’t not say it.
So she walks into the aforementioned multifunctional room, and her eyes fall on his form, sitting ramrod straight in the couch (a weird effect military life had on him), and damn it, she has to say it.
Even if it’s, like, the middle of the night, and they’re both awake because they’re both the same kind of fucked up.
Especially since they’re both the same kind of fucked up.
She walks over to him and snuggles into his side.
“I love you,” she tells him. She’s well aware the emphasis is supposed to be on the love if there is emphasis put anywhere. But she’s not just anybody, and he’s not just anybody, and their relationship isn’t just anybody’s, so this works a lot better.
He raises a curious eyebrow, clearly noting the strange emphasis too, but kisses her forehead with a smile. “I love you too, Bobcat.”
And it’s okay if some things are exactly the same as before.