Page 84 of Falling For My Ex's Older Brother

I look at him for a moment longer. Something settles in me — not completely, not without the complicated questions still waiting to be answered, but enough.

"Okay," I say.

"Okay," he says.

We eat. The city sits beyond the windows doing what it does. The wine is good. The steak is better than anything I expected from a man whose office hasnever once contained any evidence that he eats like a human being.

"This is good," I say, gesturing at the plate.

"Don't sound so surprised."

"I'm not surprised." I look at him.

"I'm just adding it to the list."

"What list?”

"The list of things I know about you that didn't come with the job description." I take another bite.

"It's getting long."

Something moves at the corner of his mouth.

"Is that right."

"You cook. You sleep on the left side. You have a very specific opinion about thread count that you've never voiced out loud but is clearly reflected in every hotel you've ever booked." I look at him.

"You have a tell when you're thinking about something you don't want to say yet — your jaw does a thing."

He looks at me.

"My jaw does a thing?"

"A very specific thing. I've been watching it for months."

The almost-smile becomes something more definite. He refills my wine glass without asking. I watch his hands — steady, unhurried — and I think about what Caleb said. It's been sitting in the back of my mind since yesterday and I've been deciding whether to bring it up. Sitting across from Logan in his kitchen, the evening quiet around us, it feels like the right time.

"Something Caleb said stayed with me," I say.

Logan sets the bottle down. He looks at me.

"Tell me."

"He said you'd let me get close enough to matter and then restructure things so I fit somewhere manageable." I hold his gaze.

"I know you addressed it last night. I just wanted to say it in the daylight. When it's not — charged the way it was."

"And?"

"And I believe you," I say.

"I just needed to say it out loud one more time so we both know I'm not carrying it anymore."

He's quiet for a moment. He looks at me with the directness that has never wavered in six months.

"You're not in a box," he says.

"You're not a secret I'm managing. What I said last night is what I mean today and what I'll mean next week." He pauses.