Chapter 28
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."
I ran my hands down my sides, over the thin fabric of my dress.
It was a subtle choice, this plum-y purple sheath overlaid with superfine lace and tulle.
It wasn't impressive on the hanger but it transformed into something magical on my body.
I looked like I was intended to wear beautiful things, like this was my everyday style.
And when I gazed at myself in the mirror, I believed it.
I believed that I belonged at a black tie engagement party at one of the swankiest ballrooms in the city.
I believed I belonged on this man's arm.
More than that, I wanted to be the one on his arm.
"Then you're worried about seeing Miranda—"
"Nope," he shouted. "I don't give a fuck about her anymore.
I realized I never loved her. Not really.
I thought I did but no. No, that wasn't love.
I turned that stone over"—he glanced down at his hand, wiggled his fingers like he was counting, then shook his head—"I don't know. Couple of days ago."
When I reached the far end of the island, I grabbed the half-empty bottle of bourbon and carried it to the bar cart in the living room. Inspected the pillow nest for signs of destruction and happily found none. "That's quite the development," I said, turning back to him.
"You know," he started, wagging a finger at me, "you're right. However, that's not the point."
I stared at him across the island. "And what is the point?"
"That I realized I love you," he said.
I barked out a laugh. "You're drunk, Rob."
"I still love you." His words came without strain or effort as if it cost him nothing to say them. "I do love you. I have since…you know, Magnolia, I think I loved you from the minute you wouldn't let me get my way. Just didn't let myself see it. Or something like that."
"Someone has to keep you in line," I muttered.
That's right, Magnolia. Dodge. Deflect. Do anything but focus on what he's saying.
I rolled my eyes at myself.
"You want to know how I realized this?" he asked.
I bobbed my head, eager for some explanation. "Please."
He glanced up at the ceiling, blinked at the exposed ductwork.
Then, "I got back to my hotel room after being in meetings all day and then dinner with the same damn people I spent the day with.
I flopped on the bed and I thought about you.
" He cleared his throat, shot a quick glance at me.
His hazel eyes brightened, shedding the fog of liquor.
"I thought about traveling with you. I wondered whether you'd been to San Francisco and which neighborhoods you'd like.
Going places and—and being with you. I thought about that and I jerked off a couple of times while I did it—"
"A couple of times?" I interrupted. I knew he had some—ahem—staying power but Satan save us.
"Maybe three? Four? I don't know. It'd been a long day." He shot a shoulder up, let it fall.
Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Mr. Nine Inches and his amazingly short refractory period.
"Like I said, you're a babe. You give me plenty to work with." When I only blinked at him, he continued, "And as I was falling asleep—"
"I hope you tipped the housekeeping staff generously," I murmured.
"I always do," he replied. "As I was falling asleep, I realized I never once worried about you and the firefighter.
You and anyone. I trust you, and I'm done holding Miranda's bullshit against you and…
and I love you. I love you and I never loved her and this engagement party is making me fuckin' crazy because I can't believe it took me this long to see it.
To know I was going through the motions, settling for someone because she was there and seemed…
I don't know. Good enough." He grinned at me and the space between us seemed to dissolve.
"I realized it because you've given me more than good enough and you make me give more than that too.
You make me show up. You make me work for it. "
I flattened my hands on the stone countertop, needing that solid surface to keep me anchored here.
To keep me from allowing those words to wrap me up and warm me to the bone.
To keep me from wanting to hear them again, wanting to take them and tuck them into a secret space where nothing would ever steal them from me.
To keep me from believing that I deserved love—hot, sloppy, unflagging, imperfect love.
That I had it, right here in a heart-stopping tuxedo.
All I had to do was accept it…and give it back.
"Say something," Rob urged. "Anything."
"You're drunk," I repeated, shooting a glance over his shoulder at the microwave clock. "You're drunk and we're going to be late."
His lips pulled up in an easy grin as his eyelids drooped shut. He smiled, shook his head. His chin scruff rasped against his collar. Without thought, I leaned toward him, wanting to be closer to that sound. That sensation. "Not the response I was expecting but I'll take it."
"What were you expecting?"