It's the first away game of the season I can't go to and I'm lonely. It's not like Logan and I spend every night together, except . . . okay, maybe we do. But I have things to do! Other interests! Friends!
Only none of those interests seem that interesting today. Daisy had to prod me out of our room to get me to the station on time. Ugh, Pace and Evelyn better not be making out today. They don't even like each other! And, meanwhile, I have to spend the entire weekend away from my boyfriend, who I actually do like.
I walk into the station and get ready to slump into the producer's booth . . . only there's a wrapped box with my name on it. I look over at Morris and he just grins and shrugs.
So I open it. And gasp. It's an action figure. An action figure of Ted Bundy.
I whip out my phone and text Logan.
Me: You're such a dork.
Him: Hey, I'm just supporting my girlfriend's bizarre and troubling interests.
Me: I love it. I love you.
Him: Love you, too
I open my mailbox, not really expecting to find anything other than maybe a flyer or two. But I try to check my mail every day. Or at least once a week. I figure it's the responsible thing to do. Besides, Daisy never does it.
Sure enough . . . a bunch of flyers and ads and . . . one lumpy envelope addressed to me. I run up to my room, sit on my bed and carefully open it. It's crammed full of puzzles pieces. I dump them out into my bed.
"What's that?" Daisy asks, from the other side of the room.
"I have no idea," I say.
I begin sorting through puzzle pieces. Each is filled with words, and as I begin putting pieces together, a smile spreads across my face.
"It's a love letter," I say.
"What?" Daisy asks. She hops off her bed and comes over.
"My dearest Grace…"
"Don't read it!" I says, leaping over the pieces. "It might be dirty!"
"Oh, then I definitely need to read it," Daisy says.
"No, go away!" I say. "I need to indulge in this sweet gesture on my own."
Daisy laughs. "Lucky for you, I have plans with Morris. Enjoy your dirty letter."
"Love letter!" I yell after her.
(It was a little dirty.)
I shiver as I let myself into Logan's apartment. It's February and the weather has been miserable for weeks. On top of that, between my classes and Logan's games, this was the first time in days we'd been able to to spend any time at all together.
I dump my keys and bag in the entryway and walk into the living room.
To see Logan spread out on a picnic blanket with a rose in his mouth.
I burst out laughing. "What's this?"
He springs up. "It's a picnic!"
He's lit a fire in the fireplace and there's a picnic basket and candles and a bottle of wine.
"This is amazing, John," I say.
He shrugs, and starts taking sandwiches and bags of chips out of the picnic basket. "I kept thinking about how we meant to go on a picnic last summer and never did."
"This is much better than a picnic in the park," I say.
"Yeah?" he says, looking up at me with those blue eyes of his.
"Yeah," I say, and drop down onto my knees to kiss him.
It was my very last final and I swear I did my best, but all I could think about was the summer of freedom ahead of me. Logan and I are going to Paris, and then it's back to Boston for training camp, and getting ready for grad school, and, okay, I might have been a little distracted.
When I walk out of the building, I pull out my phone and turn it on. A missed phone call from one John Logan. Hmm. I put the phone to my ear, expecting a message of good luck.
Instead, I get a burst of music and then a shaky voice singing, "I just called to say I loooove you. I just called to say how much I caaaaaaare."
And then two more voices joining in, "I just called to say I looooove you."
One broke off. "Okay, are we singing the whole thing?"
"Yes!" Logan's voice insists. "I told you!"
"Is he always like this?" Aha. It was Shane.
"Pretty much," Garrett's voice answers.
"You guys are ruining it!" Logan says. And then his voice got louder. "Hey Grace, these idiots aren't any help at all. Love you, and I'm sure you did amazing on the final. See you soon."
I hate being sick. And I really, really hate being sick alone. The Bruins are out of town, which means Logan is out of town, and Hannah went with the team, so it's just me, all alone in the entire city of Boston. (Okay, so my dad had offered to stop by, but it's the middle of finals week and I knew he couldn't really spare the time.)
I did my best to sound upbeat when Logan and I talked on the phone, but I just wanted to whine. It wasn't fair! Other husbands got to come home every night.
And then the doorbell rings. I drag myself off the couch and open it. A grinning Amazon delivery women hands me a box. I didn't order anything, but it has my name on it.
I open it to find a dvd of Runaway Bride. I lost my copy last summer and stupid Netflix took it off their service.
Ten minutes after the movie ends, the doorbell rings again, and the same delivery woman hands me another package. This time, it's a book on the Green River Killer.
I shake my head and text Logan.
Me: You know Ted Bundy wasn't the Green River Killer, right?
Him: I thought it was time you branched out.
Me: If you really loved me, you'd have sent me chicken noodle soup.
Him: That's coming at six.
Best. Husband. Ever.