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Epilogue

Lorelai, Two Months Later

She walked into her condo to find candles on every surface, rose petals on the floor, and . . .

Logan asleep on the couch.

In fairness, she was the one who’d fucked up.

She was supposed to have been home two hours before, but she’d had a problem with one of her programs and had sat down to troubleshoot for just one minute .

Well, one had turned into a hundred, and now she was obscenely late.

Two plates were on the table, along with an entire chocolate cheesecake. Her heart pitter-pattered. The man had brought chocolate carbs.

Aw .

She turned, walked over to where Logan was sleeping, the textbook from one of the classes he was taking sprawled across his chest. Carefully, she slid it from him and set it on the coffee table then burrowed her way under his arm.

Even asleep, he still let her in, still hugged her close, still murmured, “I love you.”

Just like he did every single time she came to him when he was sleeping.

Whether it was on the couch, like this—though sans candles, cheesecake, and rose petals—or in bed when she worked late. Or even if she got up to get a glass of water or go to the bathroom.

Every time she came back, he whispered, “I love you.”

And every time, she whispered back, “I love you, too.”

Someday, they would manage to say it again when both of them were awake, or at least semi- conscious.

Until then, Lori was just going to let Logan have his moment.

Just hopefully next time she wouldn’t be late and ruin it.

Or those glorious chocolate carbs.