Page 131 of Bad Love

Whatthe…?

The screen cuts away, and there's anotherchef.

The bar at the bottom of the screen says we're only a quarter of the way through thefile.

"How many are there?" Rena asks inawe.

I click through spots. Six chefs, at least half of whom I've heard of—and not only from Rory—are wishing him luck and saying happybirthday.

"What are youwatching?"

We jump as my kid comes up behindus.

I swallow. "Logan made you something. I’m sorry I didn’t give it to yousooner."

I hand him the headphones, and he pops them into his ears. When I restart the video, his face transforms. He's totally engaged,rapt.

My hand hurts, and I realize Rena's squeezingit.

"That's a pretty epic gift," she sayssoftly.

I can't imagine how long it took him to round up all these people, even with the connections he musthave.

"Bloody hell!" Rory explodes,delighted.

I pull the headphones from the jack, and the audio cuts in. "If you have questions about becoming a chef or what it's like, you can email me. And I hope you'll visit me at my restaurant. I'll show you around the kitchen, and you can help me with pasta service. I understand that's your favoritefood."

Damnit.

There are no words. There's only the look on my kid'sface.

As if someone looked inside him and smiled at what theyfound.

Logan saw Rory, really saw him. He got Rory, and he respected him for who hewas.

Not whether he was in a talent show or whether he could ride abike.

He did exactly what Rory needed. Logan was the only one whodid.

The numbness in my chest dissolves into a throbbing ache, and I press my hand over my ribs as if I can rub itaway.

"Can I watch it again?" Rory asks, cutting into mythoughts.

"Sure. Excuse me a sec." I go to the kitchen and grab a tissue, sniffing before I blow mynose.

"You okay, lady?" Rena asks, her voice full ofkindness.

I toss the tissue away and suck in a deep breath. Moms don’t cry. "I put all this blame on Logan for not showing on Rory's birthday. But he said something about how it's not Rory keeping us apart—it'sme.”

Fuck it, maybe moms docry.

I grab another tissue. Plus one forinsurance.

I rub my eyes, knowing I’m going to look like a raccoon and not even caring. "I’ve always been the girl who screwed up. With Blake,” I explain through hiccupping breaths. “I don't want to prove them right by falling for the kind of guy you fall for when you're twenty, Rena. Who's too hot for real life, who has a grin that melts your panties, who makes you want to do dirty things every hour of the day and offers to help you withthem."

She lifts a brow. “Because…?”

"Responsible women don't go around having crazy sex with former models. They take care of their kids, try to make good choices. Better choices," I amend, realizing how stupid it all soundsnow.

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