The Magnolia Chronicles: Adventures in Modern Dating(63)

I wanted to sink into this moment, drown in it. I wanted to wave the flag, drop my shield, and tell everyone the game was over. I didn't require any more fix-ups or setups. I didn't need the apps or matches. I was good now, I was done.

But I couldn't quit this game. Not yet.

It wasn't the mere knowledge that I was due to meet Rob in a matter of hours. It wasn't an overactive sense of obligation to Ben's emotional needs. It was more than that.

It was more. It was so much more.





Chapter Twenty-Eight





My date was three sheets to the wind.

Maybe not all the way there but he was on the road and making good time.

"Magnolia!" Rob bellowed from his kitchen island. "And her canine companion!"

I set my bags on the floor and released Gronk from his leash. He scurried off, intent on sniffling every corner and licking every wall. "Be good," I called after him.

Rob leaned against the stone surface with one arm held aloft, drink in hand. The other hand seemed to keep him steady. When we'd agreed to meet at his place before the engagement party—rather than him driving up to my house, only to turn back around and drive back into the city—I hadn't imagined he'd busy himself with pregaming. Although I wasn't sure I'd handle it differently if the tables were turned.

"How did you get more gorgeous while I was in San Francisco? That's not allowed. If you're going to be even more beautiful, I want to be here to watch while it happens."

I gestured toward the full-length dress, the one I never would've chosen without the insistence of Andy and Shannon. The dress was to blame. I was the exact same person I was when he left town for a business trip last week. "Nothing has changed. Fancy dresses and Spanx are optical illusions."

He stared at my torso for a moment, then cocked his head to the side and stared another moment. And then it was just awkward because I was certain he was wondering where I was hiding all my squishiness. Honestly, I was wondering the same thing. It seemed like heavy-duty shapewear worked by rearranging internal organs. I was no medical doctor, but I was fairly confident my liver and stomach were in my uterus—because why leave that space empty when I had a belly to smooth?—and my intestines and kidneys were packed away near my ribs. That worked out well because I wasn't visiting the ladies' room tonight. Once these things came down, they were staying down.

Then, "Nah. I didn't notice the dress until now." He shook his head, flattened his lips. "It's gonna look spectacular on the floor."

"As any pile of fabric costing upward of five hundred dollars should," I murmured.

Rob didn't catch that part, his brows knitting together and his forehead wrinkling while he leaned toward me as if he'd hear previously spoken words better that way. When he thought better of asking for clarification, he said, "Allow me to pour you a drink, love."

"I'll pass for now. Thanks," I said, stepping toward him. Goddamn, this man shouldn't be allowed in tuxedos. There should be a city ordinance banning such things because this was a safety hazard and he wasn't even fully dressed. The jacket was draped over the back of an island stool. His bow tie and collar hung open at his throat. Cuffs were rolled up his forearms. If he walked out in traffic like this, the city would grind to a halt. "One of us should stay upright at all times tonight."

He tipped his glass toward me, sending a splash of amber liquid over the rim. "You're a fuckin' babe, you know that?"

I held out both hands as if I was completely and thoroughly righteous in my fuckin' babe status. "I was just thinking you're not too bad yourself, Russo."

"No, I mean you're a fuckin' babe," he drawled, smacking his free hand on the countertop. "How the fuck did I talk you into this shitshow?"

I held out my hands again but this time, it was a gesture of resignation. "I believe I talked you into this shitshow."

At the sound of Gronk's low growls, we glanced toward the living room. My pup was busy dragging throw pillows out from under the coffee table and constructing a nest for himself. I wagged a finger in his direction. "Don't even think about shredding those pillows."

"I don't care about the pillows." He spoke quietly as if he knew better than to let Gronk hear.

"He's not allowed to shred pillows."

"You're the boss here." He narrowed his eyes at me, smiling. "Yes, Miz Maggie, you are the boss and you are responsible for us attending this blessed event tonight." He considered his glass. "Why'd you do that? Why d'you want me to do this? Because it's making me fucking crazy."

I kicked off my heels and paced the length of the island. In all honesty, I was feeling that fucking crazy too. I did some social media stalking last week and discovered Rob's ex Miranda was all kinds of stunning. Sexy, sophisticated, put together. She looked like the kind of woman who knew how to take her daytime look to evening and had frequent occasion to use that skill.

"What part of it is making you crazy? Are you worried about Eddie?"

"He's dead to me," Rob said, waving away all thought of his former best friend. "He can suck my dick for all I care." He set his glass down, cringed. "Nah, I don't want that either. He's too self-absorbed to give a good blowie."