Page 116 of Bad Love

My phone buzzes as an image comes through of a notebook with a bullseye on the front and the words “WHERE I COME FOR INSPIRATION.” But the word “COME” is crossed out, replaced by “CUM.”

I shake my head but don’tanswer.

"You okay, Kendall? You sounddistracted."

If we’re in this, if we want a future together, I need to be straight with him. "I ran into Nellie, and he told me about the bet.” My throat tightens. “Did you actually say you could get ten thousand womenoff?"

A low curse comes over the line. "It sounds bad when you say it likethat."

I sink onto the bed, dropping onto my back to stare at the ceiling. "Is there a way it sounds lessbad?"

Logan turns it over. "I won’t defend it. All I can say is Nellie was goading me, and in ten years of being friends, I’ve never said no. But I’ve also neverlost."

I squeeze my eyes shut and rub them. “Okay, but…ten thousand,Logan?!”

“It was hyperbole, Peach.” He sighs. “Only reason we were talking about it was a trip to Ibiza we’ve done every year for the lastten.”

I shift up on an elbow. “He said he got backrecently.”

“Yeah. I passed thisyear.”

“Why?” This feelsimportant.

I can almost hear the shrug. “Been busy. Plus I didn’t want to. I’m not interested in spending time with random women. Lately, I’m interested in one woman.” Warmth spreads through my chest at the sincerity in histone.

“Really?”

I grin, and he continues. "Uh-huh. She’s smart and sweet and a littledirty.”

For once, the flush that crawls up my neck isn’t entirelyunwelcome.

“So, about Rory's birthday. I've been working onsomething."

He gives me an address, and my curiosity is piqued. "Soundsmysterious."

"Mhmm. Dress nice. Rory too. And comehungry."

"Okay, now I have to look." I look on the web. "Logan! It's a Michelin-star restaurant. And the website says it's booked out formonths."

"Chef's table's even harder toget."

My chest squeezes. "Oh wow. Do you want to come over and tellhim?"

"I'd love to, Peach, but I'm a little busy. Why don't you? We can celebrate his birthday Thursday, then you and I can celebrate the grown-up waylater."

"I'd like that. We'd like that," I amend, my mouth curving in that involuntary way it seems to whenever Loganspeaks.

"Three days. It's gonna be good. Ipromise."

By the time we hang up, meeting Nelson at the Charlotte feels like a million light yearsaway.

24

"Where are we going?"Monty asks on Thursday at lunchtime as I lead him down a small street inBrooklyn.

I reach a door and hold it open with a sweep of my hand. "Arestaurant."

“Thank you, master of the obvious.” Monty’s gaze runs down the counter of the open kitchen, the crisp linen napkins, the way everything in the simple space is arranged with an eye to care. As if the person designing it hoped someone might notice even if most didn’t. "I usually have a deli sandwich. Fine dining is wasted on me." But he follows me to a table in theback.

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