The Magnolia Chronicles: Adventures in Modern Dating(58)

I shook my head, already feeling the heaviness of a cry-graine creeping in. "I stopped using the apps," I started with a sniffle, "because I think I'm falling in love and my life is a m-m-m-m-mess."

My mother's mouth fell open. She quickly recovered, asking, "Is he married? Please don't tell me he's married. You know better than to get involved in that kind of situation again."

Again.

I would've kept laughing if I wasn't busy seething over that word.

Again.

I'd made some mistakes. I knew that without the reminder. I'd made mistakes, and it took me longer to learn from some of them than others. But figuring it out was the sticky side of growing tired of your own bullshit. Learning to love your flawed, fragile self required a thick foundation of hard-packed mistakes and a ruthless devotion to never committing them again.

Again.

"That's not fair," I said. "I didn't know Peter was married. Sure, I missed some of the warning signs but I didn't knowingly get involved with a married man, Mom. I wouldn't do that."

"So, he isn't married?"

I rolled my eyes, barked out a laugh. "No. Not married."

She shrugged, waiting for an explanation.

I'd often thought about how I'd present the coincidence of Rob and Ben to my family. In my head, it always took place after the summer, after our arrangement ended. After I'd chosen.

But the reality of making a choice between Rob and Ben—crowning a victor—sank in my belly like a stone. This wasn't a season finale and these men weren't contestants and I wasn't taking long, contemplative walks on a deserted beach while a film crew caught my every frown and far-off gaze. This was my real life, and choosing one of these men meant building a relationship on uneven ground.

All the power sat in my hands. It'd been fun for a time. It'd been nice to feel adored, cherished, special. I'd never been special, not in the ways that it mattered. But I wasn't meant to keep this power.

"Is your period starting? Is that what this is about? You're feeling a little PMS-y?"

I lifted my palms to my eyes. "Oh my god. Mom. No. Just…no."

She huffed out a breath. "It's a fair question," she said. "You're not usually this dramatic and believe me—hormones can make you crazy."

"Thanks," I murmured. "That's really helpful."

She shifted toward me, her arm brushing against mine. "If he's not married, what's the problem?"

"There are two of him," I replied. "That's the problem."

"Okay. He's a twin," she mused. "There's no way you'll have less than two babies at once but that's nothing to cry about."

"That's the only way this could be worse," I said. "If they were twins." I shuddered at the thought of my brothers dating the same woman. Good god. "Not twins. Two separate men. I'm seeing two men who are not twins."

My mother arched both eyebrows. "Are you kidding me?"

"Does it look like I'm kidding?" I gestured toward my face. I didn't need to see my reflection to know I was a puffy, red mess. "Does any of this look like a joke to you?"

It didn't matter how loud I spoke because everyone was already tuned into this meltdown. Of course, they were. Nothing happened to me in private. Every critical moment in my life unfolded with an audience. It made me wonder—if I wasn't judged, did it even happen? I wasn't sure. I wasn't sure but I was completely certain I was done with this, all of this. The judging, the arched eyebrows, the again, the constant sense that I still wasn't doing it right.

Just fucking finished.

"No, Mom, I'm not kidding," I continued. "I've been seeing two men for"—I shook my head, trying to recall the moment it all began—"a few months now. Two different, unrelated men who are neither twins nor married."

She watched me for a beat, her eyebrows bent and the technician's repeated request that she return her foot to the bath ignored. Then, "A few months? It's been going on for—for a few months? And you didn't think I'd like to know that?"

"Yes, a few months and I'm not here for your complaints about it," I replied, still riding high on my righteousness. "I didn't set out with the objective of getting caught between two guys and I wouldn't wish this chaos on anyone. But most of all, I don't need anyone reminding me that once upon a time, I did foolish things. I did unbelievably foolish things and I ignored all the warnings in the world." I jabbed a finger at my chest. "Yep, that was me. But how many times do you think I needed to see my entire life ripped in half and sold for salvage before I burned the fool right out of me? How many times do you think I need my dog stolen from me or my business relationships fucked up or getting served with deposition summonses before I killed that stupid girl with fire?"

"Magnolia, I just—"

I held up both hands, cutting her off. "I don't need to hear it. I don't need anyone telling me I've made a bad habit of betting on the wrong horse. It's true. I've done it too many times and I've paid for each one. I've paid so much. Do you know how much it's cost me? Do you know how many of my friends got married and had babies and bought houses and succeeded in their careers and did all the things everyone is supposed to do while I wandered around, lost and confused, and hoping I'd get mine one of these days? That was all I wanted. But I was wandering and foolish and missed out on everything. Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever catch up. If I'll ever get my turn." I swiped a tear off my cheek. "But I'm not betting on horses anymore, Mom. I'm betting on myself now."