Page 90 of Bad Love

We've been texting for weeks. And we’ve talked on the phone. What's different is this is the weekend. So far, we've stayed out of each other’s space outside ofweekdays.

Warmth rushes through me as Logan answers. “Hey,Peach.”

"Hey,” I say under my breath as I smooth my finger over the wallpaper seam in the hall. “What are you doingtoday?”

“Finishing up a dive with Monty.” He’s told me all about his hobby, and it sounds fascinating. “Montgomery sayshi.”

“I haven’t met Monty,” I remind himlightly.

“Huh. We’ll have to fix that.” Before I can comment, he says, “Where areyou?”

“Rory and I went to Orange.” I blow out a shaky breath as my emotions catch up to me. “We'll be home in a couplehours."

"Kendall." He sounds concerned. "You don't soundgood."

"I'm fine. Just been a long day. I guess I wanted to hear your voice.” I regret it the second I say it, but it’s too late. “Orange is prettystrange.”

“It’s thePez.”

I laugh. “I wish it was thePez.”

No. I wishhewashere.

The silence on the line is comforting, almost as if Logan’s leaning against the wall, regarding me from those amused chocolate eyes, instead of a cityaway.

"Tell you what. You need dinner. Both ofyou."

"Logan…" I should protest, but all I come up with is, "I might be terrible company, and Rory's beattoo."

"Then I’ll be good enough company for the three of us," he says easily before the line clicksoff.

* * *

When he spotsa figure in the doorway of our building, Rory straightens from his half-asleep dawdling up the street from the subway station. "Logan!"

The man I'm slightly obsessed with fills the doorway, his phone in one hand. It's a warm night, and there's no leather jacket. Just a deep-green polo shirt over crispdenim.

"If you're taking selfies with ‘hashtag just need a Cross’ and making the lobby of my building glamorous, I hateyou."

"Ten thousand likes and counting." Those bright eyes meet mine, and I smack his shoulder as he holds the door. "Thought we could have tortellini. I didn’t make it, but someone did." He looks at Rory. "If the head chefapproves."

I think I melt, and it’s not the lingering heat from theday.

The smell from the brown paper bag in his hands seals thedeal.

I follow them inside as they chatter about pasta and restaurants and chefs. Logan promises to show Rory some cool new restaurant onInstagram.

Rory clearly enjoys Logan. And it's mutual. The thought makes meworry.

Not because Logan’s not a good guy. But it’s easy to get swept away in the moment, and being a spouse, being a parent, day in and day out, takes a certain kind ofcommitment.

One Rory’s father couldn’tmanage.

One I wouldn’t dream of asking ofLogan.

One he’s made clear by his lifestyle he doesn’t want, at least notyet.

But for now, we're here, and my stomach's growling, and the most beautiful man I’ve ever met has brought enough stuffed pasta to feed anarmy.

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