The Magnolia Chronicles: Adventures in Modern Dating(79)

And I was ecstatic. There wasn't even a twinge of betrayal.

"What kind of villain?" I asked.

He dropped his hands and stared at me wide-eyed. "The best kind. The best kind," he repeated. "I've talked to her every day this week and I am—"

"Smitten?" I interrupted. I couldn't help but beam at Ben. I'd never seen him twisted quite like this. It was fabulous. "Because you're smitten."

He jerked a shoulder up, shrugging off my response. "You said something recently. Something about getting tired of your bullshit. This woman, Grace, she was tired of my bullshit before she met me and she has no problem telling me that."

"I'm a fan," I replied, both hands up in praise. "When are you seeing her again?"

Ben stroked Gronk's coat for a moment, silent. Then, "I don't know. I had to do this first. I had to do right by you before I could do anything with her. Hell, I don't know if she's interested. She ignores my texts for eleven hours and then tells me to unfuck myself and I don't know what to do about any of it. I just want—I don't know—I want her attention." He shot an apprehensive glimpse in my direction. "That's about as lame as it sounds, isn't it?"

I felt a rush of warm affection for Ben. It wasn't romantic or sexual, not at all. It was the kind of affection reserved for the special people who came into your life and changed the course for the better. He'd changed my course and I'd needed him to do that. I'd needed him to push me, to hem me in and force me to take charge of our complex relationship. But more than that, he'd forced me to make choices.

I couldn't sit back and wait for love to find me. I couldn't expect it to come in the exact dimensions I required. I couldn't cross my fingers and hope to find someone better than my shabby roster of exes. I had to orchestrate that magic for myself.

And now it seemed Ben had to orchestrate his own magic.

"Assuming she wants to see you again, I'd love to meet her," I said. "I want good things for you, Ben. You're not getting rid of me. I'll be checking in on you and asking about this scary villain teacher and making sure you're doing well even if we don't share showers anymore." I pointed over his shoulder, in the direction of his house. "And I'm not letting you screw up those renovations."

"Yeah?" he remarked. "What's Rob have to say about that?"

Another rush of affection hit me, this one tighter, more urgent than the first. I loved Rob. I could say that now and I could believe it. I could keep it without worrying after it leaving me.

I loved him and he loved me.

He loved me when love was the last thing he wanted.

He loved me when I couldn't choose him, when I wouldn't.

He loved me exactly as I was, requiring no more, no less.

He loved me and I loved him, and now, we both knew it. We could say it, we could live it.

I sucked in a breath to keep myself from crying because goddamn, this shit was hell on my emotions. "I'll mention it to him tomorrow. We have a couple hours in the car to talk through it.”

Ben gave Gronk a vigorous head scratch and set him down on the floor. The dog turned, perched his paws on Ben's leg. "Where are you going tomorrow?"

I beamed, incapable of hiding the nervous excitement inside me. "I'm taking him home for Sunday dinner with my family."





Epilogue





The next year.

Early spring.





"I'm telling you, dude. This year is going to be the rebuilding year. They can't keep it going," I said, tipping my beer bottle toward my companion. "I was wrong about this past season. I'll give you that much—"

"You'll give me that much," Ben scoffed. "You're such an asshole."

"Calling it like I see it," I replied. "Even the best players age out of the game. The smart ones get out early and invest wisely. I know a guy who manages investments for several former NFL players and—"

"Oh my god, nobody cares," he said, groaning.

I grinned at him from across the table. Ben Brock was one surly son of a bitch. I wasn't certain but it seemed as though he was made entirely of salt. Salt that, at one point, might've loved my fiancée. And here I was, bullshitting about ball games with him while we knocked back a round of beers.

The world was fucking weird.

"All right," I murmured, gesturing to the waiter for our check. "Are we doing this or what?"

He lifted his beer bottle, shooting me a narrowed glance across the table. "What's the rush, Russo? Are you trying to hustle me off the market?"

"Man, you're already off the market," I said with a laugh. "Don't try to deny it."

He shook his head, sipped. "Too right," he said, mostly to himself. He glanced at his phone. "A little more than three months until you walk down the aisle. Not taking any chances between now and then, are you?"

I stared at him, a stiff smile pulling at my lips. I trusted Magnolia. Through and through. I trusted Ben—about as far as I could throw him. Our shared history aside, I knew he didn't want Magnolia. I knew he belonged to another woman. I knew this, and I knew he wasn't pulling any shit at our wedding. However, no one was talking me out of caution.