Her quizzical look in those striking blue eyes gets a follow-up from me. “Between the dock and now, I just get the feeling that maybe you aren’t interested.”
“What?” The nervous tucking of her hair behind her ear and the way she shifts in her chair are at odds with the nonchalant “what” she gives me. The surprise in her voice is enough to tell me I’m probably off base. Fucking hell. I don’t know what to think.
“I really like you and I’m fine with taking things slow. I thought maybe the pier wasn’t what I thought it was … you don’t seem to want to talk.”
“I’ve just been really busy.” Why does that sound like a lie to me? Staring into her eyes, she doesn’t flinch or back down. Not for a good two seconds until she’s forced to look away.
“You’ve been busy?”
She doesn’t look back at me, just nods and takes a drink of the water on the table rather than her iced tea.
The uncomfortable squirm in my seat is confirmation enough. Mixed signals. I think I’m going to change her name to that in my phone.
It’s quiet for a long time and I would kick my own ass if I could for even bringing it up. I should know better than to take dating advice from Griffin.
“Why Rose?” I ask her to keep from going down this rabbit hole. Although the pit in my stomach only gets heavier remembering how all of it started with a lie years ago.
“What? … Why the name Rose?” she says, figuring out the answer to her own question before I can clarify.
“Yeah,” I answer her. “I was thinking about that the other night. I almost called you Rose on the dock.”
“I wanted to be someone else when we met back then.”
“I already knew that. I don’t know why, though.”
“Stupid reason. If I’d known what was coming, I wouldn’t have been so messed up that night.” Her response is cryptic until she takes a deep breath that makes her chest rise and fall and then looks back at me with a sad smile to add, “A boyfriend broke up with me.”
She lets out a small huff of a laugh. The tense air seems to dissipate some when she apologizes for the second time since she sat down. “Sorry I lied to you.”
There’s nothing but sincerity in her eyes. “Don’t be. I’m glad I met you that night.”
There’s a warmth that flows through me as her smile widens. “You have no idea how happy I am that I met you.” Her gaze falls to the table again when she adds, “It sucks how it ended, though.”
“It didn’t end yet.” I have to correct her and the look she gives me back is a telling one. She’s scared about something. Nothing changed between the pier and now. It hits me then. She ran the first time I saw her. There’s a reason for it and didn’t she want to tell me that before? “Whatever’s on your mind, just get it out there. I can take it,” I offer.
“It’s not something so easy as to say it over lunch.”
“Some things are better over dinner then?” It’s a light joke. One that’s followed by the undeniable pull of the connection and sexual tension that’s always there between us.
“Promise you won’t hate me after?” she whispers and her eyes shine with unshed tears.
“There’s nothing—” I don’t even get to finish my sentence before she takes a sharp inhale. Her gaze is glued to something—or someone—behind me.
A second passes, maybe only a fraction of a second but it’s enough time that I look over my shoulder and see two men. One young, our age maybe, and the other older with similar features. I imagine they’re related.
The guy who’s my age I’ve seen before, but I can’t place where. This town is small and everyone is starting to feel familiar. I turn back to Magnolia, slowly and carefully to see her pouty lips still parted and an uncomfortable pinch in her brow. With her wide eyes filled with worry, she offers an apology, her words clipped as she does. “I’m sorry.”
“Mags?” the younger guy calls out and the air changes entirely.
“I have to—” she doesn’t finish the thought before getting up from the table with the obvious intention of making her way to one of the two men behind us.
All I can think is that she’s seeing him and they’re a thing. That is the overwhelming instinct. That she’s a cheater and I’m the other man. It’s more than just disappointment that pangs in my chest.
“Look, if there’s something you aren’t telling me …” I start to say and my words halt her even though I stay seated. “… I can take it if you just aren’t interested.” I swear if I move an inch, I won’t be able to stop myself from following her.
She looks hurt, then I realize it’s more than that. Shit. The way her expression falls, it’s obvious my words crushed her. I feel the need to apologize but I don’t have a chance.
“It’s just a little complicated for me, Brody.” Her words sound strangled and unlike the other times that telltale feeling of eyes watching us has crept up on me, Magnolia seems oblivious to it, lost in her own chaotic thoughts. “If I didn’t want you, I would tell you. I just need … I need a little time.”
“I understand that, and—” She’s already walking away before I can finish. Before I can tell her I’m sorry.
The other guests are quiet and I know they’re watching. I replay the scene in my head and I wish I could rewind, be less … anxious and pushy with her. Is that what I was? She’s got me so turned around I don’t know what I’m even doing anymore.
Other than playing the part of a fool. There’s something she’s not telling me and I think it has to do with whomever she saw just then. It feels like everyone around me already knows. The waitress is polite enough to ask if I just want the check when she comes out. And kind enough not to mention the fact that my date just took off.
She’s not polite enough to gossip a bit, though, and tell me the guy Magnolia spotted is some dude named Robert and that they used to be a thing.
“Used to?” I press her and the blond waitress shrugs, not wanting to give me any more information.
The questions pile up and as I sit there, waiting on the bill and our lunches the waitress offered to box up for me, not that I’m in the mood for eating any of it, I text Griffin.
I thought the town said she’s single. That’s what you told me. But it doesn’t look that way.
His response is telling: There might be a complication … or two.
Magnolia
A little over two years ago
Knock, knock, knock. The knocking at the front door is hesitant. My tired eyes lift from the open laptop I’ve been staring at for hours and travel to the front door. As I rise up off the sofa, I peek down the hall. Bridget should be sound asleep for the night; she’s been sleeping so well recently, which has been a blessing. Still, I hold my breath as I tiptoe to the front door wondering who’s knocking at nine o’clock at night.
It can only be Robert or Renee, but they wouldn’t knock.
I have to stand on my tiptoes to peek through the peephole and see Robert combing his hand through his dirty blond hair as he glances behind him.