Page 119 of Bad Love

Since I got here, I’ve had a good feeling. This is the first shining possibility of hope in the ocean of mess since I made the bet in the first place. Even Janie seems to be smiling atme.

Nellie started off down, helped in part by his drinking. I've been having a sip every hand just to keep him company, but he's further along. I've steadily eaten away at his pile of chips, and he's down to a quarter of what hehad.

I can finish him off in a few more hands. All of this will besolved.

I lean in, ready to rake in mychips.

"Not so fast. Full house. Queens andeights."

The cards stare up at me. My stomach drops as I watch Nellie sweep the tokens across the board with greedyhands.

"I'm not going down so easy." He cackles. "You thought you'd do me in fast, huh? Noway."

Something triggers in my brain, and I look around the windowless room. "Wait. What time isit?"

"Eight."

I shoot straight up. "Fuck."

I go for my phone in the corner. It's policy that we check them at the door, part of the reason for our guys’ nights to startwith.

There're two messages and a missed call from Kendall asking if I’mokay.

"I have to go," I say toNellie.

"What about thebet?"

Shit. "I guess it fuckingstands."

25

“May I refill your wine?”the waiter asks, his white shirt hovering over the linen-coveredtable.

I force a smile. “Sure. Thankyou.”

The restaurant Logan chose is amazing, and Rory’s having a greattime.

When we were seated, there wasn’t a menu on the table. I was about to ask why when the chef came over and sat down next to my son, introducing himself. Rory’s eyes were huge before the chef began offering up options the kitchen could make, not to mention when they started bringing out small plates, one after another, of things I’ve never seen oreaten.

But I can’t enjoy it because I’m worried about Logan. He was supposed to be here more than an hourago.

He didn’t say anything today that would’ve suggested he might be late. Plus, he’s the one who organized this entire evening. He knew how much it would mean toRory.

I can’t imagine any reason he wouldn’t be here, especially without a call ortext.

Which is why on the inside, I’m a mess, picturing his sports car in a twisted wreck of metal or him unconscious in the hospital after some freak breweryaccident.

Maybe I should callMonty.

It can wait until we get out of here. I don’t want to worryRory.

I force myself to hide the concern as I talk with myson.

“Have you thought more about the talent show? I got the list of other performers. There are all kinds of acts. Magicians. Jugglers. Singers. You’re a greatsinger.”

“Know what’s great?” he asks, solemn-eyed.

“What?”

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