Page 87 of Single Mom's Guide to Love

“About nine-thirty out here, so eleven-thirty for you?”

I pat around my bed to find my glasses, only to realize that I fell asleep with them on my face. I adjust them slightly and pray they aren’t too bent as I look over to my bedside table. Yup. It’s only eleven-thirty at night. I was sleeping so hard I would’ve thought it was the middle of the night.

Or next Tuesday.

“Is everything okay?”

Maybe it’s the mom instinct in me to ask that question first, but even in my dazed-from-sleep mind, I want to know. Why else would he be calling me this late?

“Everything is fine. I just wanted to talk to you.”

Now that wakes me up.

I roll over onto papers that I fell asleep around and push myself up to sit against my headboard. He’s just calling to talk to me? About my day?

Is this what married couples do? If so, Josh definitely missed that memo.

“Oh. Okay then.” I’m trying to get my bearings, but between his unexpected call, and being woken up so suddenly that I felt like I was late for the bus, I’m pretty scattered. “How was your day?”

It was the first thing I thought to ask, but somehow I think it was the wrong thing.

“Long. Boring. Frustrating.”

“I’m sorry. Want to talk about it?”

He doesn’t say anything for a second, but I can only guess by the slow breaths he’s taking that he’s trying to figure out where to start. Or maybe what to say. And I don’t know what compels me to do this, especially because I know my bed-head is probably pretty epic right now, but I switch the call to FaceTime. Luckily, and before I can overthink that decision, he answers.

“Hello, Love.”

My body heats as those two little words run through me. Also doesn’t hurt that he’s also in bed. Shirtless.

Maybe I should’ve stuck with the phone call.

My mind suddenly flashes back to the first night we met and the very inappropriate thoughts I had about him in bed. It’s also funny that he has to go two time zones away for me to see him in his sleep attire.

But I only stare a second, because it doesn’t take long for me to realize that I was right to think something was wrong. There’s pain on his face that isn’t as bad as the day he told me about his horrible family, but it’s there.

And I want to fix it.

“I felt like you might’ve needed a friendly face to go along the voice?”

He nods. “You know me so well.”

Do I? I was just going on gut reaction and years of wanting to fix problems for my siblings. Or, maybe I’m getting to know Logan better than I realize. “Talk to me. Anything specific happen or just a whole lot of shit?”

He nods. “Both. I hate meetings. They’re long, boring, and most of the time can be done over an email.”

“I remember you canceling many on me, so that tracks.”

My playful dig hits the mark as I see a slight blush creep across his cheeks. Good. About time someone else’s face gave them away.

“Touché. But today’s meetings were utterly horrible. What do I care what shade of blue the packaging for the new toys is? It’s space. Make it midnight blue and be done with it.”

“Oh the problems of a CEO,” I tease, but this time, my joke doesn’t land.

“It wasn’t just that,” he continues. “The board wants the new game. They’re tired of waiting.”

“Oh shit, Logan.” I know this has been bugging him for weeks now, and even months before we met. “Still nothing?”

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