The stare-off broke only when another voice sounded over my shoulder. "There you are."
At once, Rob and Ben twisted to scowl at the man standing beside me. "Who the fuck is this?" Ben asked.
"Who the fuck are you?" he replied.
"What the fuck is going on?" Rob added.
"He's not with me," I yelled over the testosterone.
At once, Rob and Ben quipped, "What?"
Patrick pointed at Andy. "Mine." He pointed at me. "Not mine." He shuffled past Ben to join Andy on the bench against the wall. "I've been looking for you for half an hour. The Find My iPhone app is not very accurate around here."
"Say that again without sounding like a creeper," Andy said.
"Can't," Patrick replied. "Won't."
"Should," Andy said.
"Wife," Patrick responded.
"Creeper," Andy challenged. She laughed as he placed both hands on her face and moved in for a quick kiss. "Husbands can be creepers."
"Not true," he whispered. "I looked it up."
I choked back a laugh and busied myself with swiping a dollop of chocolate ganache off the remaining half of that Boston Crème.
Ben glanced to Rob, his hands held open. "Let's call that a small victory, yeah?"
"Yeah, it was beginning to feel like presidential primary season in here for a minute," Rob replied.
"I know, right?" Ben bobbed his head in agreement. "I can deal with you but add another motherfucker to the mix and I'm outta my depth."
"For a second I was thinking, holy shit, how many are there?" Rob remarked. "There's a difference between a 5K and an Ironman, you follow me?"
"Oh, I follow you," Ben said. He extended his fist across the table and bumped knuckles with Rob.
This time, I laughed out loud. There was a snort in there too, and it wasn't cute. Honestly, I didn't understand why these men were fighting—and forging a strange friendship—over me.
"Gigi, what's the deal here?" Patrick asked, wagging his finger between the unlikely duo of men in my life.
"This is Rob. That's Ben." I shrugged. "They're, I mean, they're here. With me. They showed up. I didn't invite them. But they're with me and it's…it's complicated."
"Can we decide right now to make it a lot less fuckin' complicated?" Ben asked.
"Yeah," Rob agreed, pressing his knee against my thigh. I was sure he interpreted my gasp as a response to him but it was his knee and Ben's hand covering my kneecap at the same time. That was always the way of it. Rob, then Ben, then me losing my shit. "Go find Sara and get the hell out of here. No more complications."
Ben shot him an unimpressed glare. "Not what I meant, cocksucker, and I think you know that."
I held my palms out as if holding them both in their corners. "Listen, listen. I cannot handle the two of you at once."
"Thank god for that," Ben murmured. "I don't want to be anywhere near his dick."
It was my turn to shoot the unimpressed glares. I didn't care whether his fingers were tormenting that tender backside of my knee. He was getting the glare. "I definitely wasn't referring to that but thank you, Ben. That was super helpful."
"I don't think she'll have any complaints about my dick," Rob said, tipping his chin up. "She already knows what's under the hood."
Ben swiveled toward me, his eyebrows arched up. "I see I have some catching up to do." His stare dropped to my chest, pawing over my breasts. There was no mistaking the familiarity behind his gaze. "But answer me this: Am I the only one lagging behind? Or am I ahead where it matters?"
Never again was I walking across the street in the middle of the night while wearing a baggy tank top. Or asking a guy for dick pics.
Or anything loosely resembling either of those offenses.
Rob pressed his knee into my thigh. "Magnolia, what the fuck is he talking about right now?"
"Andy, I don't understand what's happening here," Patrick said. "What is this about?"
She handed him a chocolate cake donut, saying, "Just eat this and watch. I'll explain later."
I brought my fingers to my temples and rubbed. "Ben. Rob. It would be cool if you'd both shut up. Just stop talking and don't say anything. That would be perfect."
Ben drilled his index finger against the tabletop. "No, that's not how this is going to work."
I laughed again but this time it was stiff, a little annoyed. I batted his hand off my leg. He put it right back. I knocked him off again and this time, he heard the message. "You're not going to dictate the terms of my social life," I said to him. "That's not one of your options. Try again."
"Date us both," Rob said, sitting back in his chair. He crossed his arms over his chest. The move sent his knee sliding higher up my thigh. "We can't keep getting into pissing contests. If you're not willing to cut one of us loose today, then I propose you date us both for a bit."
"Rob, no," I argued. How could he handle that? It drove him crazy knowing I was helping Ben with his house. I couldn't imagine how he'd react knowing we were seeing each other. And I didn't want to do that to him after he'd discovered his ex was the worst woman on the planet. "That's not fair—"
"It's fair. It is. No secrets, no lies, no hiding. I'm not ready to walk away, Magnolia," Rob replied.
"But, Rob…" My words trailed off. I didn't know what to say. Why was he volunteering for this? Why was he still here? He wanted to forget his ex but instead of finding someone who could help him with that, he was signing up for these shenanigans. I didn't understand it.
"It's not going to be easy," he replied.
"No," I agreed, the word booming out. "You're damn right it's not easy."
"You could get the fuck outta here and make it easy," Ben said under his breath.
Rob kept his gaze on me as he pointed at Ben. "I'm going to rip this antagonistic bastard apart if we don't establish some rules of engagement real fast."
"I want to rip both of you apart and I've been here for ten minutes," Patrick said.
"Shush, sweetheart. We're just watching," Andy whispered.
I gestured toward Ben. Part of me still wondered whether he was all innuendo and no action. Whether it was a game to him. That I wasn't taking any of his shit or falling for his charms—aside from his forearms—and that was why he wanted me. That he savored this distraction from the grief rising around him. His silence during this portion of the discussion was giving me pause. "What do you think about this?"
Ben raked his fingers through his hair and blew out a breath. "I can live with it," he said. "I'd rather you send him on his way right now—"
"I'd rather you go find Sara," Rob interrupted. "What the fuck's wrong with you? Bringing a woman out for breakfast and then leaving her at the door? That's fucking rude."
If I didn't understand Rob, Ben was a brand-new level of incomprehensible. He wanted an escape from dealing with the loss of his grandmother but I couldn't help thinking he'd find himself at the limits of that escape soon.
"Sara is fine,” Ben replied. “Don’t you worry after her.”
All at once, we shifted to put eyes on Sara. She stood at the counter; her back to us while she spoke to the clerk and pointed at pastries in the display case.
Patrick cleared his throat. "Shall we invite her over here?"
"Oh my god," I whispered to myself.
"Patrick, sweetie," Andy started, "we can manage many things but adding another person to this mix might test our capacity." She tipped her head toward Ben. "Are you sure this is where you're supposed to be, young man?"
"Yes, ma'am." Ben bobbed his head. "And no disrespect, but I don't think you can call me 'young man' when I'm thirty-eight."
Patrick pointed at him. "She'll call you the Abominable Snowman if she damn well wants to."
Ben considered this, nodded. "All right, man. All right. And, look. I might be an asshole but I'm not about to do wrong by my buddy's sister."
"I'm glad we've established the facts," Rob murmured.
"Are you required to be a d
ick all the time?" Ben asked him. "Like, is it part of your fraternity's honor code or something?"
"Now that you mention—" Rob stopped himself when he noticed me staring, eyes wide and lips parted, over his shoulder. He shifted, glancing in that direction. Under his breath, he murmured, "Oh. Wonderful."
Sara marched up to our table, her arms wrapped around two large bakery boxes. "Hi," she chirped, wiggling one hand from under the bakery box in an attempt at a wave. "This seemed like a fine idea when I was walking over here but now I realize I don't know eighty percent of you and I don't have a meaningful connection to the twenty percent. I blame the donuts." She glanced down at the boxes. "I bought one of each but now that seems excessive. I don't know what to do with twenty-eight donuts."
The men started to speak at once, but Andy silenced them with a quietly lethal "Stop." She studied Sara for a moment before asking, "Do you like farmers' markets?"
"In theory, yes," she replied. "In practice, I end up with an obscure collection of items I don't know how to cook and then I order takeout. Again." She shrugged. "I've had a spaghetti squash on my countertop for six weeks. It confounds me."
Andy waved off this argument. "We can fix that. Give me your number."
Rob tapped his fist against his chin before saying, "I'm no expert but I think it's time to let the squash go. Before it decomposes."
Patrick pointed at him. "That is solid advice."
Sara replied with a curt headshake. "I don't mind decomposition in flora or fauna." She glanced to the side, humming a bit. "Or humans."
"High-test," Ben said through a cough.
"Yeah, give me your number," Andy insisted. Her thumbs flew over her phone's touchscreen as Sara rattled off the digits. "Since we have you here, can you clear something up for us?"
"Does it pertain to human or plant decomposition?" she asked.
Andy barreled forward, undaunted by the straight-up ickiness of Sara's response. "Neither." Pointing to Ben, she continued. "Did this gentleman behave appropriately in your company?"
Sara's gaze swung between Andy and Ben. "Excuse me?"
"Did he invite you out and then ditch you?" Patrick asked.
Frowning, Sara studied Ben for a beat. "Oh, no. No. He asked if I wanted to meet his neighbor. I'm not sure which one of you that is but I wasn't sure about compounding the layers of newness here. I think that's why I bought all these donuts. Coping mechanism." She crouched down, close to Ben. "Here. Take the top box. I'm going to bring the other one to work."
Ben collected the box, saying, "You heard the lady."
"Yeah, so," Sara started, glancing around the table, "I should go."
"Get rid of that spaghetti squash," Rob said.
As Sara darted away, Andy called, "I'll text you about the farmers' market."
"What's the big deal about farmers' markets?" Ben asked.
Patrick pried open the new box. "Don't ask."
"Yes, ask," Andy argued. "Don't listen to him. I have thoughts on the best markets in and around the city."
As Andy launched into her dissertation on the region's agricultural output and corresponding farm-to-table retail model, I curled in on myself. It was easier that way, quieter. And I needed to step back from this reality to hear my thoughts. How else could I kick around the notion of dating both Rob and Ben?
It didn't seem real and I couldn't determine whether I wanted it to be real. Whether I wanted Rob to backtrack or soft-pedal his suggestion. It was less risky than to imagine myself as the woman in a relationship with two men.
But it wasn't the men making this risky. It was the illusion of abundance. I'd spent the entire winter wandering through the Death Valley of Dating and I knew that was my reality. This—Rob and Ben and all of it—was a mirage. An optical illusion. A set of atmospheric conditions refracting my greatest wants and needs through heated air.
I knew this was an illusion, but that didn't stop me.
"If we do this," I started, glancing at Ben and Rob, "we're going to be civil. This animosity was cute for a hot second and now I'm over it."
"I can be civil," Rob replied.
"I'll tattoo 'civil' anywhere you want it," Ben added.
"If we do this," I continued, "we're going to stop running into each other like this."
Rob folded his arms on the table, laughing. "I live in the new building around the corner," he said, pointing toward the street. "And I've told you I like this place."
"Best donuts in Boston, a million years running," Ben said. "Where the fuck else would I take the new chick in town?"
I wagged my iced coffee cup at them. "Whatever. I don't care how it happened, we're going to make sure it doesn't happen again. No more group dates."
Andy raised her hand. "Does that include me? Because I'd love to just observe this social experiment."
"Same," Patrick added.
I rolled my eyes, setting aside her question for a time when I didn't have Ben and Rob staring me down. "No gaming the system. Don't look for loopholes. Be legit or be gone." Ben started to speak but I stopped him, adding, "Unless it's civil, don't say it."
"Motherfucker," he murmured. "I'm gonna bite my fuckin' tongue off before noon."
Rob smiled at me and said, "My tongue is just fine."
He didn't check the boxes. He didn't want any emotional attachment or intimacy. But hell, he knew how to heat me up with the barest of touches, glances, words. "Thank you for that update."
Ben closed his eyes, pressed his fist to his mouth. "Time limit," he gritted out. "We need a fucking time limit on this experiment."
"Yes, please," Rob added.
I looked around the bakery, hoping to find an answer tucked in between the dough and yeast and sugar. I found none, only a gentle reminder in the form of chalkboard signs heralding the impending launch of the seasonal special strawberry-rhubarb glazed donut that summer was almost here. The strawberry season was obscenely short. Most of the local growers I knew managed only a two- or three-week harvest.
I could manage more than that. Right? Yeah. I needed more than that and…and I had this on lock.
"The summer," I said. "I'll give you two the summer."
I wasn't certain of many things but I knew this wasn't what my mother had in mind.
Chapter Seventeen
My dates—dates, plural, as there were now two of them—wasted no time. I'd barely shooed them out of the donut shop before the texts started hitting like rockets during The Blitz. I held my phone's screen up for Patrick and Andy's review but the two of them were too busy critiquing the flavor profiles of the remaining donuts to notice.
"Are you seeing this?" I prompted, my arm still suspended over the table.
"I love when you get all fired up about things," Andy mused. "It's almost as entertaining as when everyone BCCs me on emails to Patrick because they erroneously believe I don't know he's a tyrant. Better yet, they think I'm going to intervene on their behalf."
"It's more entertaining when I'm sitting there with you while those emails come in," Patrick said as he studied a raspberry-lime donut. "I love watching you smirk at your screen."
"And you get to watch me smirk at my screen because you've parked yourself at my desk and forgotten you have a desk of your own."
Patrick arched his brows up, shrugging as he bit into the donut. "And?"
"And you have all day, every day to love on each other whereas I've tripped into a universe where I'm somehow seeing two guys," I said, reaching for a paper napkin. I balled it up and reached for another. "Two of them. Two separate men. At once. How did I get two? Really, all I need is one. Just one."
"You had the opportunity to eliminate one of them," Patrick said.
"This isn't the proper spot for an elimination ceremony," I replied. "Additionally, my life is not a reality dating show."
"You don't want to eliminate either of them," Andy said. "I remember when Rob first matched with you on that app. You were hooked on him. Then you yelled at the cute firefighter that o
ne night and you were hooked on him too. You don't want to eliminate either."
"I beg your pardon," Patrick said, shifting on the bench seat to face her. "Which cute firefighter?"
"I'm married." Andy wiggled her snowball-sized ring at him. "Not dead. There is a difference." Patrick grumbled something under his breath and went back to his donut. "And you, my dear," she said, pointing her iced tea at me. "You deserve this, Gigi. You've kissed all the frogs. Some toads too. Now you get your choice of, you know, non-amphibious creatures."
She was right about the frogs. And the toads. I'd given too many days to men who cared little for me. I'd settled for nothing and convinced myself it was everything. I'd smiled through the warning signs and turned a blind eye to unacceptable behavior. I'd excused the inexcusable—lies, cheating, even stealing—and told myself it was as good as I was going to get.
I'd made bad choices, and I'd allowed myself to stay in bad situations. It took a kidnapped dog and one hell of a talking-to from one of my very best friends—and then a relapse with another no-good man and another Come to Jesus talking-to—but I knew how to spot douchebags and fuckboys and assholes now. And I knew I deserved more than that.
It was a strange thing, being okay with myself. I was still getting used to it. Most days, I wasn't used to the fit and feel while others forgot I was wearing it at all.
"While you're thinking deep thoughts, I'm going to eat the last donut," Andy said.
"Are you going to share it with me?" Patrick asked. "I'd like you to share it with me."
Andy met his gaze and bit into the donut. "Only because you're cute," she said, handing the pastry to him.
Rather than watching them eyefuck each other over the food, I turned to my phone.
* * *
Ben: There's a cool place in Revere Beach. Hasn't been hit by hurricanes or hipsters. Good beer, good food. I think you'd dig it. Let's go. Tonight.
Rob: I just called Talulla and asked them to hold a table for two at eight. I've heard the peach upside-down cake is crazy good. Does that time work for you?
Ben: Or I can pick up food and swing by your place. I'm good for a chill night on the deck if you are.
The Magnolia Chronicles Page 11
