Page 11 of Logan
Epilogue
Jane
The sun’s so bright I feel like I need two pairs of sunglasses just to open my eyes.
We’ve only been in Costa Rica a matter of hours, but already we’re at the beach. The sibilant sound of the waves carries the tension I’ve been carrying in my shoulders off into the cool, blue water of the Pacific.
Logan’s ordering us drinks from a nearby bar in fluent Spanish. Every woman in the vicinity seems to have their eyes on his muscle-bound, half-naked body, but it’s like he doesn’t even know they’re there.
“Here you go,” he smiles, taking his seat on the sun lounger next to me and kissing me softly on the lips.
“You know,” I take a sip from my cocktail and put it down on the table next to me. Besides my book and my phone and the sarong I was wearing just moments before, “I could get used to this.”
He squeezes my hand and his eyes run over my body. “Me, too,” he grins. “You know I love seeing you in a bikini.”
For a few hours, we just lie about on the beach relaxing. Every so often we take a dip in the sea to cool off. We jump into the waves and wrap our arms around each other, kissing and touching each other in full view of anyone who cares to watch.
Logan’s hardness presses against my pussy as his fingers play with my slit and my wet, bouncing breasts slap against his chest.
“It’s beautiful,” I say, as the huge, orange sun finally sinks into the ocean a couple of hours later.
I’ve had a few drinks by now and Logan's brought me to climax in the sea, and in the little shack-like restroom that’s on the corner of the beach where we’re staying. He’s rubbed my feet, and we’ve just finished watching the most beautiful sunset I’ve ever seen in all my life, and I’m so relaxed I feel like one strong wind will probably blow me away.
“You’re beautiful,” he says, helping me up from off the sand.
“Flattery will get you everywhere.” I fall into his arms and he kisses me deeply and passionately, just like he always does.
It really has been the most amazing year of my life.
At first, I was worried that Logan would have difficulty fitting back into civilian life, but if anything it’s civilian life that’s had difficulty coping with Logan.
I don’t know where he finds all the energy.
One minute he’s painting the house, the next minute he’s starting a security business. He’s always got time for me, and my friends, and he’s learning to play the guitar, and he’s got a podcast on the go where he talks about the military and he helps ex-soldiers who are struggling, and every morning he’s awake at five o’clock and he goes out for a run and lifts weights, and when he gets back all sweaty and bulging, he still has enough energy left to lift my legs in the air and sink his love-truncheon into my wet, pink clam.
“Maybe I should have gone back to our room and changed?”
He’s just dragged me into what looks like a high-class restaurant. Everyone in it is definitely fully dressed, and I feel totally awkward and out of place, in my beach clothes. "I’m not even wearing any flip-flops!"
“Nonsense,” Logan says, pulling me through the throng of onlooking people. “It’s no problem. I know the owner.”
And, just as he says that, a tall lean man with silver eyes appears before us in a white, linen suit and hugs him tight and calls him brother.
“And this must be the beautiful woman you’ve been telling me so much about!”
He takes my hand and bows to me, kissing the backs of my fingers. “Enchanted,” he smiles.
I blush all over and giggle a reply, about how I’m sure the pleasures all mine, but he isn’t having any of it.
“Nonsense.” He guides us through the restaurant until we’re on a private balcony overlooking the sea. “Logan is like family to me. I will do anything for this man. And now, I will do anything for you, too. Just say the word, and consider it done. That is my promise to you.”
Clapping his hands, a waiter appears with a bottle of Champaign in an ice bucket. He pops the cork and pours us each a glass. We make a toast to old friends, and to new friends, and to Costa Rica, and to America, and by the time we’ve stopped toasting things there isn’t any more champagne left in the bottle, and the waiter is coming over with a huge platter of seafood.
“I shall leave you two love birds alone,” the man, whose name I still haven’t learned, says before swiftly exiting stage left.
It takes us well over two hours to finish our food, and as I’m putting down the spoon I’ve just used to demolish a bowl of ice cream, a guitarist appears behind Logan and gently starts strumming a song.
“Is this?” I say, recognizing the music instantly.
“That’s right,” he says, “our song… the song we danced to all that time ago at Dax and Kate’s wedding… the first day I met you… the day you stole my heart.”
He gets down on one knee and tears instantly fill my eyes. I’d had an inkling that maybe Logan was going to propose to me on this trip, but now that it’s actually happening, I’m overwhelmed with how happy I am to see his face looking up at me and to see his hand reach into his pocket and pull out a diamond ring, and then to hear him ask those magic words, “will you marry me?”
I tell him I’d marry him a million and one times if it was possible. He picks me up and we kiss. Then the owner makes another appearance with another bottle of champagne, and we finish that off together before Logan and I walk back to our hotel along the beach. Our feet leaving imprints in the cool, night sand. Our hands locked together. Our hearts joined.
“I love you,” I say, for no other reason than it’s true and I want to say it and I want him to hear me say it.
He pulls me close and brushes my hair behind my ear. He pecks at my cheek. His hand slides down my hip and his fingers squeeze my left butt cheek. “I love you, too, baby girl. More than anything in all the world.”
