He made a sound in his throat, some kind of rattling sigh. "Yeah," he murmured. "I know. Riley's mentioned it two or three hundred times."
Ah, Riley. He was the best of friends. Just the best of them.
Sam pushed to his feet and brushed the dirt from the seat of his shorts. "Sitting behind a bush is great and all but why don't we get up before we meet a colony of fire ants or something? Introduce me to your friends, will you?"
He stepped away from the boxwood and I acted on my brain's first impulse, one still reaching for all of that resentment.
It wasn't a good impulse.
It wasn't a wise impulse.
It wasn't the right impulse.
But it was the first. And only.
I lunged toward Sam and caught him around the calves. The impact sent him stumbling to the lawn and my hold on him meant I followed him down.
My torso hit the ground first, pushing an indelicate grunt from my lips in the process. The inertia yanked my t-shirt down but the essentials stayed covered. Thank god. I couldn't add a wardrobe malfunction to today's list of tragedies. Not after whatever it was I just did to Sam.
Until right now, I'd believed my worst moments were behind me. At the very least, my worst Sam Walsh moments were behind me. But no. Nooooo. Dragging him to the ground was somehow worse—substantially worse—than slamming my lips to his all those years ago. I'd had a rationale for that. This…this defied all reason.
"What the hell was that, Gigi?" he yelled as he pushed up. "What the actual hell?"
I dropped my forehead down, sedating myself with the scent of green grass. When was I going to learn? When was I going to stop getting in my own way? Was that even possible? Was there a world where I wasn't literally falling down and scraping myself up all over again?
That world didn't exist. Not for me. I was always going to do all of those things but maybe—just maybe—there could be a world where Sam Walsh wasn't involved in my relationship with Rob and Ben. Even if I had to tackle him.
"Gigi, any explanation would be awesome," Sam continued. "I really fucking hope you were saving me from a possum or something."
Thanks to Sam (and a few other truly unpleasant men), I could handle damn near anything. I could pick myself up, dust myself off, and pretend I hadn't fallen into a homegrown sinkhole. I could be nice and cheery and not give a fuck about any of it. I could fake it. Oh, I could fake it the best. Wasn't that what I'd been doing for—for years?
But I couldn't fake it with Rob and Ben and Sam. Not all at once. Not after that weird and necessary conversation in the bushes. Not anymore. I couldn't.
Rob and Ben called to me but I stayed there, my hands pressed to my face and head down in the grass. I heard footsteps and then felt hands on my shoulders, my back, but I didn't move. I needed another minute to recover. Before I had to fake it one more time.
"Magnolia?" Rob said to my back. "Magnolia, honey, say something."
"Who the fuck are you and what the fuck happened here?" Ben snapped. "What did you fucking do to her?"
"This was—it's all good, gentlemen," Sam replied.
"What kind of fuckin' predator are you?" Ben continued.
"Excuse me?" Sam answered.
"Sam? Sam, why are you covered in grass stains and why is Magnolia on the ground?"
Oh my god. That was Lauren. Due any day pregnant, moving into her new house fourteen seconds after the paint dried, dealing with all this mayhem Lauren. Oh my god. I'd just tackled Sam to the ground like a lunatic and I was flat on the lawn in front of her house, adding to the damn mayhem.
"Seems like something I'd do."
That was Riley. Oh, shit. Just…shit.
It was true. Nothing happened in my life unless I had an audience around to judge me while it happened.
"We just tripped," Sam replied. "It was nothing. If I know Gigi, I know she's dying of embarrassment and waiting for the lawn to swallow her."
If I know Gigi.
I snorted at that. He was right. But we didn't know each other anymore.
"I know you think you can be left unsupervised, Sam"—oh, god, that was Shannon—"but that's not the case if you're tripping on flat, unobstructed grass and taking Magnolia down with you."
"Is there not a better use of your time?"
That question came from Patrick and I was now convinced the entire Walsh family was staring at me, facedown in the grass. I should've picked myself up by now but I needed another minute. To put myself back together and find the right blend of joyous indifference necessary to stand up, shake the grass from my hair, look these people in the eye, and go forward without explaining my inexplicable desire to physically prevent Sam from approaching Ben and Rob.
A hand squeezed my shoulder, ran down my spine. I wasn't sure whether it was Rob or Ben. Right now, I was content with that show of support coming from either man.
"Thank you for that brilliant question, Patrick. I appreciate you and everyone else coming out to evaluate the current state of affairs. Helpful. Extremely helpful." Sam continued, "And it was probably my fault. You know, as I reflect on it now, yes. It was my fault. I'm the responsible party here. I am—I'm deserving of the blame. Gigi did nothing wrong."
Finally. Finally, an apology I believed. Perhaps it was a product of Sam speaking it to everyone else. Maybe it grew from the conversation we had behind the boxwood. Whatever the reason, I believed it this time.
I believed it, and I believed I didn't need the emotional armor anymore.
"Thank you for that," I mumbled into the grass.
"And who the fuck are you?" Ben seethed.
Ben was good at that. The snapping, the seething. Angry suited him even if it wasn't a healthy way to live. And I didn't have to look up from my earthy meditation spot to know he wasn't the one kneeling beside me and rubbing my back. His words were too far away for that. If I had to put money down on his location, I'd bet he was busy edging into Sam's space and shooting glares hot enough to cut steel.
"I'm Sam Walsh and this is my brother's house," he replied. "Who might you be?"
"Let's not do this," I said, finally pushing up from the grass. I was right about Ben glowering at Sam. A-plus effort on that front. I was right about Rob keeping a hand on my shoulder too. And I was right about the entire Walsh family plus a few new faces watching this delightful exchange. "Let's go unpack some boxes instead."
"Are you the one who took the dog?" Ben asked, jabbing a finger in Sam's direction.
"No, sir, I am not. I was on the dog rescue squad," Sam replied, hands up in surrender. "I'm not—I'm not any of them. I'm tangentially involved at best."
"What the fuck does that mean?" Ben snapped.
That earned him a snort from me as I settled on my knees and scanned the yard. "I told you not to ask." I couldn't place the new faces in the group. Six of them, five women and one man. They looked slightly younger and somewhat confused. That was fair. "You really shouldn't have asked."
"Well, I did," Ben replied, pointing an impatient frown at me. "I don't know what's up here but I don't like it."
I stared at him but I knew the Walshes were closing in around us. They never missed the rowdy stuff and this definitely qualified as rowdy stuff. "Let's just forget this. Okay?"
Ben tossed his hands up. "Whatever you want," he replied as he took an exaggerated step back from Sam.
Lauren's husband Matt approached, a hammer in one hand and roll of painter's tape in the other. "Do you want me to throw him out?" he asked, pointing the handle end of the hammer at Sam. "I will. He's shirking his responsibilities and picking fights in my front yard. Maybe that's acceptable in Fort Point but this is suburbia. We don't put up with that shit here."
"No worries. It was an accident," I said, laughing. "Please don't kick him to the curb on my account."
"Then I'll do it," Shannon called. "Make yourself useful and go get some lunch for everyone, Sam." She marched toward us, a mobile phone pressed to her ear. "Whatever it is you broke, you can
fix with food."
"I don't believe I broke anything," Sam replied. "But rather than debate that with an audience of this size, I'll pick up lunch. Maybe then I'll get something I can actually eat."
"Stop it with your sob stories," Shannon said.
"I would argue they are less sob stories and more real accounts of me foraging for food on a regular basis," he said.
"You haven't foraged a day in your life," Matt added.
"What are we talking about? Foraging? Like, for mushrooms?" Patrick asked.
"I've been known to forage a mushroom or two in my day," Riley said.
"Not that kind of mushroom," Andy said to him.
"And that's enough of the Walsh Family Theater for today," Lauren announced. "Matthew, my dear, please stop using that hammer as a pointer. I know you can manage your tools and all but we don't need any additional accidents." She glanced between me and Sam. "Sam, you're in charge of catering. If you can find me some of those little clementine oranges, I'd appreciate it. I'm pretty sure the Whole Foods near MIT had some last week. It's a bit of a trek, but…" Her voice trailed off as she rubbed her belly. "Like I said, I'd appreciate it."
"I'll see what I can do." He hooked a glance at me over his shoulder, offering a tight smile before breaking away from the group. He waved at Ben as he passed him en route to the sidewalk but Ben only scowled back.
Lauren continued, "Andy, I need you to take Patrick and Riley inside. I need them to work on plotting out locations for bedroom furniture before it arrives and we have mass chaos." She pointed toward the house as Andy narrowed her eyes, clearly confused by the request. If I had to guess, I'd say Lauren was putting hands to work and tearing eyeballs off me. She was an angel. "Shannon, my mom is going to be here any minute and I need you to figure out the baby's room before she does. Go. Make it happen. Run like the wind."
Rob kept his hand moving along my spine, each sweep loosening the tension coiled there. God, I was tired. I was tired of trying so damn hard. Tired of being one step to the left, one minute too late. And I was tired of constantly stepping into that joyous indifference and pretending everything was all right. Everything was always all right.
"What do you need right now?" Rob said, his words low enough to stay between us.
I shook my head and let myself lean against him. "This."
"Yeah?" His lips brushed the shell of my ear. "Are you sure you don't want to fake a sprained ankle? I'll get you out of here. You won't have to deal with him anymore."
Exhaling slowly, I let my eyelids fall. One of the many problems with concurrently dating two men was losing track of the information I'd shared with each of them. It was never more evident than right now as Rob knew all about my history with Sam. Ben knew the rough sketch but Rob knew the details and he knew who Sam was—and wasn't—to me.
He knew and he stayed right here with me.
He knew this weird, tenuous, strained but polite but also distant situation called for a calm response. That goddamn indifference. He understood how swagger only widened the chasm. He knew I needed this to be better but that I couldn't do the fixing. I couldn't be the one apologizing this time.
And he knew I needed someone to stand with me rather than someone to stand for me.
"How did you know?" I asked. "How did you know I needed this?"
He chuckled in a quiet way that vibrated through his chest and straight into me. "I didn't know so much as to repay the favor."
I turned my head to glance over my shoulder at him. "Which favor is that?"
"You had my back at the engagement party."
I frowned, shook my head. "I didn't do anything. I was there with you but I didn't do anything."
He wrapped his arm around my waist. "And I'm not doing anything but being here." His lips landed on my temple, stayed there long enough to chase away some of my lingering embarrassment. Some of it. "What about that ankle? Should we get it checked out? I know a beer garden not too far from here with brews perfect for treating imaginary injuries."
"Maybe later," I said, patting his hand. "It wasn't terrible, with Sam. I think we patched a few things up. There was that awful moment where I tackled him but it was nice of him to own that one."
"It's about time," Rob said under his breath.
I glanced up to find Lauren smiling down at us. "Sorry about all this," I said to her. "I didn't come here with the intention of instigating anything."
She waved her hand. "Don't mention it. Some people exercise, the Walshes yell at each other." To Rob, she said, "I'm Lauren Walsh and you're supremely tolerant of both this day and those shenanigans you just witnessed."
"Not at all. I'm Rob Russo," he replied. "I heard there were boxes to unpack and things to assemble, and I'm happy to do it."
She laughed, shaking her head. "And we are thankful for every hand on deck today," she said, shooting a glance across the yard at Ben. "If you don't mind, I have a perfect project for Mr. Brock. Can I steal him?"
"Take him," Rob replied quickly. "Keep him. He's all yours."
"You're just adorable, aren't you?" Lauren murmured. "Stay there for a bit, Gigi. You've been running around fixing trees and plants and god knows what else before Sam went all…you know, Samish. I hope everything is all right on that front. I hope you're all right."
"I am," I said, and I meant it. I was all right without the resentment and contempt and burned bridges. Without the indifference. I was better. "I might have space in my schedule to take on a few of Sam's properties."
"Make him work for it, girl." She glanced to the group of twentysomethings congregated near the front door and then eyed Ben again. He was having a conversation with Matt that seemed largely composed of hand gestures. "It's truly the perfect project. If I can convince him of it."
The magical intuition of Lauren Walsh was not to be underestimated. The woman noticed things to which the rest of us were blind. And in this moment, I was certain she saw me and Rob and Ben and all the things we didn't say out loud. She saw and she knew, and now she had a plan.
"I've never doubted you before," I replied. "I'm not about to start now."
With a nod, Lauren stalked toward the group near the door. She peeled off a man and woman and led them toward Ben and Matt. She was quick to gather the men but Ben wasn't going without a spirited discussion as always.
He pointed at me, asking, "Are you good? I can stay. I'll do whatever you want, Gigi."
"Oh, sweetie," Lauren cooed. "You have such a good heart, worrying after her like that. She'll join us in a few minutes."
Ben blinked at Lauren, his irritation melting by the second. "Okay." He nodded, glanced back at me. His lips tipped up in a smile. So unlike him. It lasted all of ten seconds before his gaze stumbled onto Rob and he went full glower. "I'm watching you, Russo."
"As always," Rob replied.
Lauren allowed none of this, quickly directing him into the garage with the rest of her crew, leaving me and Rob alone on the grass. He ran his hand over my knee, thumbing away the streak of green.
"I'm not sure what's happened here," he said. "But I feel like it's a lot."
For the second time today, tears filled my eyes. This wasn't about finally crossing a threshold with Sam or letting go of all my grudges—because yeah, they were grudges. It wasn't about the Walshes rallying around me. It wasn't Lauren taking Ben into her care. It was none of this but also all of it.
That climb, it never ended. Not really. There was no singular point of getting it or being all the way there. But there was a big difference between taking the first step and having the summit in sight.
And I could see it now. I didn't know everything and I was certain I'd get lost again but the air was thinner up here and my bags were lighter and now I knew there was more ahead of me than behind.
I nodded, brushed away a tear. "I feel like it's everything."
Chapter Thirty-Two
I didn't have a date today. Not tonight, tomorrow, or the day after. My week was wide open, and
for the first time in months it belonged to me.
I needed it to be this way. I needed to get a few things straight with myself before seeing Rob or Ben again.
Two days ago at Matt and Lauren's new house was the last I'd seen my boys. My boys. Ha. That was such an oversimplification of the matter. They were good men. Good to me and good for me.
A handful of months ago, my only wish in this romantic life of mine was being wanted. To be someone's first and best choice. Back then, I'd thought there was nothing better than belonging to someone, fully and irrevocably.
But it took a shove from my mother, a hot, hot summer, and the affections of two very different, very precious men to realize I belonged to myself. I didn't need Ben. I didn't need Rob. I needed me and nothing more. And that was the ah-ha moment of all this—the delicate space between needs and wants. I needed to know and love myself and I wanted a man who knew and loved me as I was.
After two decades' worth of rejection, it was difficult to take up that mindset. Part of me was compelled to binge on the affection Ben and Rob offered. Take it all and squirrel it away because they'd snatch it back soon. But the other part knew that wasn't necessary. It wasn't going anywhere and even if it did, I loved myself.
The best part—and yeah, there was a best part of dating—was I had a man who knew and loved me in all my part-time hot mess ways.
And I was enough.
Chapter Thirty-Three
I had a date with an overgrown mess.
I stood in my kitchen early on Saturday morning, cold brew coffee in one hand and my phone in the other, and stared out at my backyard.
The phone vibrated in my hand but I set it down without glancing at the screen. The messages would keep.
I wasn't avoiding anything. I was spending time with myself and my thoughts. This past week, I'd worked, walked Gronk, and slept alone. It wasn't entirely fair to disappear but I needed this. I needed to be certain.
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