Today was Logan's early class, so he was up before me. I set my alarm for 7:30, since I don't have to be in the office until 8:45. This morning, the alarm didn't get the chance to go off. A great, warm smell woke me up instead. Breakfast is typically just instant oatmeal or something, but Logan felt inspired today. So I stretched, yawned, sat up in bed and rolled my legs over to the side. I flipped off the alarm so it wouldn't disturb me later. I sniffed a few times. Yep. Pancakes. I dropped a tank top over my chest (not quite sure why. Logan certainly wouldn't care if I came into the kitchen with just boxers. I guess it feels classless) and slopped myself out of the bedroom.

Logan was pouring batter onto the griddle, moving his shoulders and singing to himself. I did my best to creep up behind him, but I must have been louder than I thought. He turned around quickly and said, "Morning!" way too loud.

"Dugghhh…morning," I groaned. "Too sleepy for this noise. Uggh…errr…"

"Awww, is widdle Kenny-Wenny sweeepy?"

"Shut uuupppp!" I growled. "Kenny-Wenny is hungwy." Logan burst into laughter at the voice I was doing. I'm not really a baby talk person, and he knows this (which is why is does it to be a jerk). "A few more minutes, k?" Logan said. "How about you uh," he cleared his throat and whispered, "Brush your teeth?"

"Oh. Sorry." Embarrassed by his very obvious hint, I covered my mouth and dashed to the bathroom. He usually takes longer than he says, so I decided to do all of my washing up right then and there. Since I bathed so late the night before, I didn't bother jumping in the shower. It's not gross. Shut up!

When I came back out, the food was ready. Everything was sitting on the table. Logan made the pancakes real big; I like those 'cause they fit the plates nicely.

"Well, well, well," I said. "Somebody's feeling inspired today, huh?"

"Oh, yeah. You know. I'm just happy!" He cheered and took his seat at the table.

"I like it when you're happy," I said, taking up my fork. "Not just because I get amazing breakfasts, but also because I like it when you're happy!"

Logan flashed his dimples at me and took a sip of coffee. "So, looking forward to dinner with Mama Knight?"

"Not especially," I said as I cut into the pancakes. Suddenly I wasn't quite as hungry. Logan glared at me. "What?" I asked in defense.

"You love your mom! Why are you being so weird about this?"

"Of course I love her, I just don't really like her."

"That's rude."

"What?" Logan was staring at me. I glared back with my eyes wide open. "What?" I asked again. He sighed to himself and took another sip of coffee.

"Nothing," he said reluctantly.

"Come on. Loogiieeee."

"Mama Knight did a good job raising you, and you tell me you don't even like her?"

I rolled my eyes a stuffed a piece of pancake into my mouth. They were so fluffy that it was hard to stay confused on the bitter conversation.

"Okay, well I guess I do like her," I said. Now would be a good time for my first cigarette. Damn. "But I haven't even talked to her since we got engaged. And I know she's been a little hostile since I told her and we were going out."

"She's cool," Logan assured me. "We talked for a long time. She's cool, I promise." His brow wrinkled in sincerity.

"Okay," I said, nodding. I cut off another slab of the amazing breakfast. "Okay. But if things get awkward tonight, uhhh, distract her."

"Whaaa?" Logan's face fell flat. "I'm not good at things like that, you know it! I crack under pressure!"

"Kidding!" I said. The fear left his face. "If she doesn't like anything, she can go fuck herself."

"Ugghh," Logan groaned. We both kept eating in silence for a little bit, and when I was done (yeah, first again) I put my dishes in the sink and excused myself to the balcony. To be honest, I was really worried about my mom coming over. The last time that we talked it didn't go so well. She called after Logan moved in with me, and the conversation went something like this:

"Congratulations," she said, bitterly.

"Thanks, ma. But I don't think you mean it."

"I do."

"No, you don't."

"Kendall…"

"What?!"

"I'm just not crazy about this."

"I know you aren't. I can tell. I'm not an idiot."

"Kendall, you're talking to me like a bratty teen. Stop."

"Sorry," I apologized, and I meant it. She was right, partially. But she should have been sorry, too.

"It was awkward having to explain this to Katie," my mom said.

"How? She's not a little kid anymore."

"She'll always feel like that to me. Oh, I don't know. Kendall, are you sure you're really gay?"

"Mom."

"What? It's an honest question."

"That's totally rude."

"Okay, fine. If you don't want to answer it, that's fine. That's fine. Anyway, I have to go. I'll talk to you later, sweetheart."

"Bye." She didn't answer and hung up. I felt shitty after that call. Real, real shitty. But I didn't seem necessarily to tell Logan about all of it. I withheld her rude question, since I didn't want him to hate her, too. But maybe she had finally accepted it? Actually, a few months isn't too bad to come to terms with it. Some parents take years. Decades. Eons. Never!

I lit up a cigarette and of course took my usual seat, overlooking the LA view I'm so familiar with. It wasn't rush hour yet. The world was still mildly quiet. I watched some birds fly overhead. The porch door slid open and Logan came out. He had his "SCIENCE!" mug in his hands. I pushed the cigarette out in the ashtray and motioned for him to come into my arms. He smiled and climbed up on my lap, facing me.

"It'll be fine tonight," he said in a confident whisper. "I promise. Just relax."

"I'm worried about it," I admitted.

"I know." Logan wrapped his arms around my shoulders and gave me a delicate, adorable little kiss on the lips. He licked my earlobe once and whispered, "It's going to be fine."

"I guess."

"If she was mad, she wouldn't come over."

"That," I said, nodding. "Is true! Yeah. That's definitely true. She wouldn't come over just to give me a hard time. Sure, she's difficult; but she isn't crazy."

"Yup! See?"

"Thanks," I said. We both smiled a bit and kissed again. He tasted like coffee. Go figure. "Well, I gotta get ready for work. And you gotta get ready for school."