The Magnolia Chronicles: Adventures in Modern Dating(31)

Another belly swoop. This guy. He didn't stop with them. Even when he should. Because, come on. He was twenty thousand leagues under the sea with his trust issues.

"Then maybe you should make a new plan," I said with a shrug.

"Let's drink to that," Rob said with a laugh. He lifted his glass. "To new plans. The meaningful kind."

I reached for my glass, paused before raising it. "Does this meaningful plan imply you're no longer looking to fuck away memories of your ex?"

"I'd still like to do that," he conceded.

I pressed my fingers against the goblet's narrow stem. "Are the terms the same?"

"I don't know yet." He reached across the table, clinked his glass against mine. "I can't make any promises."

"I don't want promises."

"Then what do you want?" he asked.

I brought the glass to my lips, smiling as I drank. "I don't know yet."





Chapter Fifteen





My date was scarfing donuts like it was almost hibernation season.

"You eat these," I started, gesturing to the Blackbird Donuts box between us, "and you don't gain a pound. Do you?"

Andy licked a dollop of blackberry jam from her thumb, a casualty of an overzealous bite into her third donut of the morning. She spared me a sheepish glance before returning to her pastry.

"I'd hate you but that seems pointless," I muttered.

"Completely pointless," she replied. "Who would you complain to about the men chasing after you if you didn't keep me around?"

"I never said anything about getting rid of you," I replied, glancing into the box. "I'm capable of hating you while keeping you as my friend."

I'd already had a vanilla old-fashioned with Blackbird's special vanilla bean glaze but now I was thinking about that Boston Crème Bismarck. I freaking loved Boston Crème and I would've chosen it if this bakery didn't make such incredible vanilla cake donuts. I would've gotten two but I also wanted to be able to function this afternoon and not fall into a carbs-and-sugar coma.

Andy nodded, saying, "Women are complicated."

"Only the human ones," I replied. "You, my friend, are not human. You're some kind of fairy or sprite. Tinker Bell, but goth."

She put her donut down, wiped her hands on a paper napkin, and held up her pointer finger. "I'll be right back."

I figured she was going for another dozen. Instead, she headed for the counter filled with cutlery, straws, and coffee complements. She grabbed a few things before giving the display case a meaningful glance. She was thinking about another dozen. I knew it. When she returned to the table, she produced a plastic knife and cut the Bismarck down the middle.

"Eat that and explain this issue with your boys again," she ordered, wagging the knife at me.

"I mean, there's not an issue per se," I said, picking up my half of the Boston Crème. Damn, I loved me some Boston Crème. Cake, donut, scented candle, you name it, I wanted it. There was nothing better in the whole world than chocolate, cake, and pudding in one bite. "There's just these two guys and they're both…I don't know. They're both around right now."

"Do you want them around?" She wiped her fingers clean and reached for her iced tea. "Based on everything you've said recently, it seems as though you find them amusing. Right?"

"Amusing is one way to put it," I said with a laugh. "First there's Rob, and I really like being with him. I'm not sure what it is but he's—he's funny and smart and easy to be with and I like all of those things. I like them so much. When we first started chatting, it was as if we'd known each other forever. I never have to explain my humor to him and there were never awkward oh shit what did I say moments. He has some issues from his ex-girlfriend and they're rather significant, but—but he looks at me like he wants to listen to everything I say."

Andy nodded, setting her tea down. "It sounds as though you really like this dude."

"I do. He has some shit to work through but so do I. When you're in your thirties and single, everyone is fighting the ghosts of exes past."

"You're not wrong," Andy said, her gaze dropping to the seven donuts remaining in the box. "Then what's the story with Ben? Why is he in the picture if Rob is the model of fucked-up perfection?"

"He's in the picture because he owns the house across the street from me," I replied.

"He's the fixer-upper?"

"Him and the house he bought, yeah," I replied. "Andy, you'd freakin' die if you saw the way he was reno'ing that place. Electrical and water both on during demo. No permits to speak of. He was laying tile on subfloor. No mortar board in sight."

"My god," she whispered, lifting her hand to her mouth.

"I know, right?"

"Yeah, that's tragic," Andy replied. "But this Ben, the bad flipper, does he look at you like he wants to listen to everything you say?"

"N—" I started to respond but stopped myself. I didn't know how Ben looked at me, not really. "I don't think so. I'm not sure."