Page 34 of Single Mom's Guide to Love

One problem with that: I don’t have the next SpaceCraft.

Actually, I don’t have fuck all.

What I do have is the video game developers’ version of writer’s block, and I can’t snap out of it.

I’ve tried. I’ve done everything I possibly can to get me out of this funk. I’ve tried making it a game to myself, trying to appease the guy who always loves a challenge. Nothing. I did market research to see if anything inspired me. That actually set me back mentally. Hell, I even hired a hypnotist. That was the biggest waste of money I’ve ever spent. I bloody moved toTennessee,hoping a fresh start could solve my problems.

Then one night I received a not-so-subtle memo from the board, saying that stock prices were dropping and I needed to announce something soon. I was panicking.

But not Kat. She figured out a solution. Even if it was a short-term one.

And the name of the game was distraction.

She pointed out that all the board wanted to see were climbing stock numbers, which means sales. They don’t care where they come from, as long as their pockets are getting heavier. So she proposed that while I was thinking of the next big thing, I needed to get out and about. Get my name in the news. Be seen with beautiful women on my arm. If people are talking about me, that means SpaceCraft is going to be mentioned more. The more mentions, the higher sales. Higher sales, better valued stock.

And so began the endless train of galas, parties, and events where I had a different woman on my arm. The press took it as I was dating all of them. Kat never confirmed or denied, because it was working. The stock prices were going up just enough to keep the board happy.

The only problem is that now I’m six months into this charade and I’m no closer to coming up with the next SpaceCraft than I was then. And if I have to go on one more fake date, I’m going to pull my hair out.

Though, if Kat set me up with a beautiful woman who was maybe a few years older than me, had a quick wit about her, with dark hair that I could wrap around my fist, and who lets out the sexiest moans when I drove into her, then I bet then I’d be on board for a PR relationship.

Ha! Like Maeve would ever agree to that. And that was before she stormed out of here today, leaving a trail of smoke in her wake.

I don’t blame her. I took a gamble, and it backfired. I should’ve told her it was me on that airplane. Would it have changed her mind? Who knows. But I know this outcome, so I have to at least wonder what the other would’ve been.

“I’m sorry,” I say to Kat. “You’re right. I didn’t object. Ever. I agreed to it because I trust you and I needed to buy time. And it worked.”

This makes her soften slightly. “I’ll never get tired of a man telling me I’m right.”

“And I’m sure it’s not the last time I’ll admit it to you. But I do need to speak up now. I can’t do it anymore. I’m tired, Kat. The women…they…”

“Are vapid and you need an intellectual to keep you stimulated and you’re so straightforward you can’t even fake being interested?”

I tap my nose to Kat’s response. “Right once again.”

She lets out a sigh. “I know they are. But unfortunately, it’s not like I can put an ad out on social media asking for a girlfriend for my rich client. And unless you know someone who would do this voluntarily, or suddenly have the follow-up to SpaceCraft ready to go, we’re stuck.”

Maeve once again flashes through my mind. And even though I know I could never ask her to do this, I can’t help but think how perfect she’d be.

Though I wouldn’t want her as fake. I’d want her forever.

Too bad she’ll likely never speak to me again. I tried getting her out of my head after she left, but to no avail. I ran on the treadmill so hard I might have snapped the track. When that didn’t do it, I tried taking the coldest bloody shower possible, hoping to somehow freeze her out of me. After that I buried myself in my gaming room—also known as the only room in the house that’s set up and doesn’t need Maeve’s expertise.

“I know we are,” I say, burying my face in my hands. “I wish I could get out of this funk. Figure out what the next thing is and put my time toward that.”

“You know,” Kat begins, a hint of “I told you so” in her tone. “I’ve read on numerous blogs that a cohesive work space, one that’s decorated and decluttered and put together, is good for creative flows.”

I narrow my eyes at my best friend. “You’re not sneaky.”

She shrugs. “Never said I was. But now I need to ask the second reason I came in here today. Why did I see Maeve stomping out of this house and breathing fire like a dragon?”

I refuse to meet her eyes. “You don’t want to know.”

“Dammit, Logan. I know you weren’t keen on spending money on a designer, but I thought she would be perfect for you.”

She is perfect. And I fucked it up…

“She’s great. But unfortunately, she won’t be decorating this house.”

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