Page 65 of Single Mom's Guide to Love

“Touché.”

“Let’s move off the mess. What’s going on with you, and why does it look like you haven’t slept since the last time I saw you?”

I shrug and let out a well-timed yawn. “Because I haven’t.”

“Oh shit,” she says, all humor and sarcasm that’s normally in her voice is now gone. “Okay. What’s going on?”

I look back to my monitor, which has up a bunch of screens with a lot of nothing on them. “I don’t know.”

“Talk to me, Logan,” she says. “Whatever it is, let’s figure this out.”

I tell Kat that I spent all weekend trying to come up with any semblance of a game. Since no one was here, it was the perfectopportunity to buckle down and finally come up with the idea that would put my life back in order.

I leave out the real motivation of doing so.

When Maeve left on Thanksgiving, I suddenly felt inspired. Because when the woman you’re infatuated with says that she’s proud of you, you want nothing more than to earn that sentiment.

And so I sat down. I went back to my roots, from when I really started developing SpaceCraft. When I did that, I was just a kid in my dorm room with a notebook, a sketch book, and my computer. Surely I could use just those things, tap into the idea I’d had for years, and come up with a game that would blow away the board and everyone who works for my company.

That was four days ago, and all I have to show for it is a bunch of crumpled papers, a lot of empty takeout containers, a broken keyboard, and not an idea to be found.

“Damn,” she said. “I hate that you’re going through this. I figured you were just in a bit of a brain block. I never thought it would go on this long.”

“You and me both.” I sit back and stare up at the ceiling. “What’s the matter with me, Kat?”

“Because you’re going through it, and haven’t slept, I’m not going to make a smart-ass remark.”

“Appreciate it.”

“But in all honesty? I don’t know. We’ve tried everything. Hell, we moved you across the country, in hopes that a new environment would spark something. But here we are, just as lost as we were six months ago.”

Silence falls over the room, because neither of us really have anything to say. What is there to say besides the eventual inevitable conclusion: SpaceCraft is my one and only good idea. I’m tapped out at twenty-nine.

“What time is it?” I figure it’s Monday since Kat’s back, though that was my only clue. “I figured Maeve would’ve been here by now and I’d hear hammering from somewhere in the house.”

Kat shrugs. “She’s not here.”

That wakes me up more than any energy drink could ever. “What do you mean she’s not here?”

“Not sure. One of the painters said that she called them and said she wouldn’t be in today. They were just to finish projects they had going and she’d be back tomorrow to give them next steps.”

I jump up from my desk and look around for…I don’t know what. Keys? My glasses? My sanity? “Something’s wrong.”

“You need to settle down. She’s fine. Maybe Jayce is sick? I’m sure it’s nothing to be worried about.”

I find my phone and bring it to life. No texts or emails. Maeve is nothing but professional, maybe overly so because of our history. Every official day she’s worked I’ve had detailed itineraries of what her plans were for that day. If she was sick, she’d have let me know. I know that in my bones.

“No, something’s wrong,” I say. “And don’t ask me how I know, I just do.”

“Well then call her,” Kat says. “Double check before you go all crazy about it.”

I bring up Maeve’s number before the words are even out of Kat’s mouth. I hit send, only for it to go right to voicemail.

“Fuck,” I said. “Where does she live?”

“What?” Kat replies. “Logan, chill out. You don’t have to go?—”

“Where. Does. She. Live?”

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