The Magnolia Chronicles: Adventures in Modern Dating(32)

Andy crossed her arms. "What do you mean, you don't know?"

"I mean, I am not sure about him," I replied, enunciating every word. "Every time I see him, I have to yell at him about something. First it was the tile saw at two in the morning, then it was him crashing my lunch date with Rob, and then it was him fucking up everything he touched at his house."

She poked at the remaining donuts. "Sounds like a lot of work. Sounds like every guy you've ever dated before. One in particular."

I reached into the box. Me and sugar, we were going down today. "I see how you're drawing that comparison but Ben is just bad at home improvement and I have no patience for that shit. He's not a couch-dwelling, dog-stealing, no-motivation, self-centered man-baby."

"Well, I'm pleased we're not dealing with another man-baby," Andy replied. "But he still sounds like a lot of work."

"You're right," I conceded. "And I'm not one hundred percent certain he's not hanging around and dropping suggestive comments simply because he likes playing the game."

"Ugh, no," Andy wailed. "Not a game-player. We're not twenty-two anymore, thank you."

"Believe me, I know. That's one of the reasons I'm not sure about Ben," I confessed. "I'm not sure what he really wants. I'm not sure what would happen if I stopped going to him, you know?"

"I don't. Explain," Andy said, cutting a s'mores donut in half.

"The first time I met him was when I went across the street in the middle of the night, a supermajority of my boobs out, to complain about his tile saw. Then I went back and literally fixed his issues and listened to his problems. Aside from running into him when I was with Rob at Flour, I've always made the gestures."

"Does he text you?" she asked.

"Not really," I replied. "I assume that has something to do with fighting fires but I've only received"—I held up my finger as I scrolled through my phone—"three texts from him. One telling me he was on his way to the house the weekend we met there, one thanking me for helping him at the house, one asking if I wanted to show him how to hang drywall."

"A drywall date," Andy deadpanned. "Adorable."

"But the thing is, when I'm with him, he seems…I don't know. He's always an asshole but he's not a jerk if that makes sense."

"Makes sense. I know assholes who aren't jerks. Several." She reached for her tea and gestured at me with the cup. "You have to do something with these guys."

"I am aware of that," I said.

"Just sleep with both of them," she suggested. "Separately or together. Whatever."

I nearly choked on my iced coffee. "They were in the same room together once and wanted to tear each other apart. It had nothing to do with me and everything to do with exceeding the allowable amount of testosterone in a small space. They would've reacted the same way around any set of ovaries. Their heads would explode if I even suggested group naked time. No cuddle puddles for these boys."

Andy tapped her fingers against her lips for a moment. "It's interesting how you didn't object to my recommendations."

Good grief.

"I don't want a threesome," I whispered, swinging my gaze to the donut eaters around us. "And believe me, neither do Rob and Ben."

"Then you're test-driving both models," Andy supplied. "Right? That's where we're going with this?"

"Girl, where is your husband?" I asked, glancing around the bakery as if Patrick Walsh was hiding in the shadows. True story though, Patrick was known to keep a close eye on Andy when she was out shopping. He'd appeared in stranger places at stranger times, especially around the holidays.

"Why? You want his opinion?" Andy asked. "I have an idea which side he'd choose."

That was all we needed. Patrick's take on my feast-or-famine dating life.

"No, I don't need anything of the sort," I said, busying myself with my napkin. "I'm not sure I'm test-driving anyone."

"Oh, don't lie to me. Don't even try."

I met her gaze but glanced away quickly. Of course, I'd thought about it. About them. About reconciling the idea of seeing two men at the same time. About having sex with two men, not at the same time but damn near close enough. About unraveling the emotions long enough to make that plan plausible because I couldn't imagine my head and my heart allowing such an experiment without concerted effort.

"I'm not lying," I said quietly. "I'm not sure I can do it. With both of them." After a moment, I added, "Separately."

Andy lifted a shoulder. "You don't have to. You only have to do what you want."

From behind me, I heard, "Funny running into you here."

Swiveling in my seat, I expected to find Patrick. Like I said, he had a knack for showing up. But it wasn't Patrick.

Oh. Oh shit.

It was Rob.





Chapter Sixteen





My date was enjoying this too much.

Far too much. Andy—the chick who didn't usually smile in the course of normal interactions—was fighting off a grin as wide as the Mississippi River and trying to hide it behind another donut.