Page 68 of Man Flu

Logan throws his head back and folds his arm over his face to cover his smile and laughter. “You really don’t care about this, do you?”

“Everyone has their thing or lack thereof. I do care about your baby. That’s different, but your ball … I don’t think you should focus so much on it.”

He peeks out from under his arm. “Are you done?”

“Yes, but how are you suddenly not in pain anymore?”

He recovers his face, followed by a groan. “I feel better.”

“You felt better last night,” I tell him.

“Yeah, and then I remembered I said I’d take my pants off when I felt better.”

“Do you know what you’re making me sound like right now?”

“A sex addict?” he replies with a grin.

“It has been a long year,” I sigh. “I’m not an addict, but you showed interest, and I had hope.”

“So, that’s all you want with me? Sex.”

“No.” I want it all. I want a mutual feeling of care and love with a man. I want someone who doesn’t need to go looking elsewhere for a good time when I’m at home waiting for them. I didn’t realize it was a lot to ask for, but clearly, it is.

“What do you want?”

“I’m not sure, but this living alone as a single mom crap sucks. It’s not my thing.”

“You’re doing a great job if it’s any consolation.”

“Pfft. You can’t tell that after a week of knowing me.”

“I’m a good judge of character,” he says.

“We’ll go with that. So, what now, Logan? Where do we stand with each other?”

“TV?”

I climb up on the bed and slip under the covers with him. “Hey?”

“Yeah?” he replies.

“If you’re feeling better, why were you on all fours when I walked in the house?”

“Uh—” I don’t know if I like the reason for his pause.

“Spit it out …”

“Cora came downstairs, and Rick and I were shouting at the TV—we were watching a recap of the game from last night. She called us out on being sick.”

“So, you tricked my daughter into thinking you were still sick … by acting like a dying cat?”

“Yeah, I think I scared her a little.”

“You scared me a little.”

“I never said I was a good actor.”

“True. Okay, next question. What happened to your ball?” I’m just going to throw it out there. “Or, should I Google your name?”

“I must say, I’m a little surprised you haven’t already Googled my name. You strike me as that crazy type.” I am that crazy type, but with the stomach flu and man flu all in one week, I haven’t had much time to do my typical man stalking.

“You have me pegged wrong,” I lie.

“Go ahead and Google me. You’ll have all your answers and more.”