Chapter 15
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."
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.