I'd known she was attached to this project, and Sam mentioned that we'd see her here tonight. Since this project was in Riley's hands, he was the only one who had regular contact with her, plus their sporting events.
I watched Magnolia from across the room, shocked that my memory of her was a wild distortion of reality. In my mind, she was everything—sexy to thenth degree, skinny but somehow curvy, too, tall and graceful, glammed up, and gorgeous. But seeing her here, now, I realized that she was just a girl trying to fit in, just like me. She was tugging at her skirt and gingerly patting her hair, and looking around with an anxious wrinkle in her brow, as if she wasn't sure what to do with herself.
Months ago, during our big, honest conversation, Sam and I had talked about the whole incident involving her. I understood his perspective, and I accepted and appreciated that he hadn't wanted to embarrass her by calling out her flirting. I would have also appreciated him telling her that he had a girlfriend, but that was in the past and we'd moved on.
Except…I hadn't moved on. Not all the way. I mean, I'd moved, but not far enough that I couldn't still see where I'd been before.
"I'll be right back," I murmured, although Will and Lauren were deep into comparing where they each ranked in their trio of siblings.
Marching toward Magnolia, I struggled to find the right opening line. Part of me knew it was time to do this and it didn't matter if I was a babbling mess while I did.
"Hey," I said, coming to an abrupt stop at her side. Too loud, too perky, too wide-eyed, and way too much stiff smile. One word and I was all kinds of awkward. "Would it be okay if we talked? For a second? Privately? I'm Tiel, by the way, in case—"
"Oh, I remember," Magnolia said, her cheeks pink and her eyes cast down. "And yeah, sure, of course."
I gestured between us, drawing an invisible box that I subsequently mimed grasping and shaking, although I knew this was a terrible way to express our need for a quiet, isolated space. "Is there a room? Like, one that isn't being used for all of this—all of these activities—"
Eddie Turlan's hands landed on my shoulders as he shuffled behind me to access to hallway. "Pardon," he murmured.
I squeaked, a tiny, repressed scream held in check by the fear of embarrassing my husband at this massively posh event. I was certain that my face was melting from that sweet second of contact with a real music legend. The gift in this moment was not only gaining a story to tell for decades to come, but also my complete lack of fangirl screams. This was what adulting looked like.
"What about one of the pantries? Off the kitchen?" Magnolia asked, waving over her shoulder. Her eyes were darting from me to the floor, and she was ignorant to my very real Eddie Turlan Experience. "There are some big closets upstairs, too. Oh, and the cellar, but the last time I was down there, I got a face-full of cobwebs and a big spider was stuck in my hair. And yeah, I work with gardens so I'm cool with spiders and all of God's creatures, but not in my damn hair. So the cellar isnotmy favorite location here but now you're probably thinking that's the perfect spot for this little chat."
I blinked at her for a beat, not sure I understood all that. "You said something about the kitchen, right?" She nodded, pointing in that direction with her glass. The force of her movement sent liquid sloshing over the sides and onto my dress.
"Oh, holy spunk trumpets," Magnolia panted, her eyes impossibly wide. She used the cocktail napkin she'd had wrapped around the base of her glass to pat my dress. It didn't help.
"Why don't we find that pantry?" I asked, stepping away from her frantic hands.
Magnolia looked up at me, her lips parted and her eyes shining with trepidation. "Okay, yeah. Just follow me."
She led us toward a back room off the kitchen, past the catering crew and the wall of champagne cases, and it was suddenly very quiet when the door whispered shut and she turned to face me.
Time to put this girl out of her misery.
"So listen," I started. "I was in the middle of losing my mind the last time I saw you. I couldn't hear any sense or logic that night, and I want you to know that we're good. Really. I know you're close with Riley, and that's—"
"I have a boyfriend," she cried, her hands flying up and waving at the empty shelves.
What was left of her drink was now soaking my chest and torso, but she was too wrapped up in what she was saying to notice.
"I'm not using Riley because I couldn't get Sam, or anything absurd like that. That's not me. I don't even think I'm smart enough for that kind of trick. We just like arguing about sports. I like sports. I know, plenty of girls don't, but I grew up with brothers and someone always had to play outfield. But I've been seeing my boyfriend since last summer, and we live together, and I'm not out to bag a Walsh. I've made some mistakes and lost a really meaningful professional mentoring relationship with Sam, but that's what happens when you convince yourself he's just playing really, really,reallyhard to get, and there are times when I think back on everything and I'm like, Wow. I'm not that bright." She shook her head with a groan. "I'm so sorry, Tiel."
"It's all good," I said, and it was the truth.
I didn't need to carry around slightly bitter jealousy when it came to Roof Garden Girl. I got the guy. Such that he couldn't look at my tits without conjuring some indecent thoughts, I was keeping the guy, too. Not to mention he was the most loyal man I'd ever met.
But…tits. They were my daily affirmation that I had this man on lock.
"What?" she asked, her brow wrinkling with confusion. "I meant what I said. I'm honestly very sorry, and now that this project is finished, I won't be seeing Sam at all anymore. Not that I've beenseeinghim, but—"
"Magnolia," I said, "I get it. You work with Sam, and Riley, too, and it was a mistake. It happened, it was bad, it's over, and life goes on. You're going to keep working with the guys, and I'm sure you're still going to games with Riley, andit's all good. I trust Sam, and I'm not going to freak out if he sees you because we all know he's married. No more mysteries in that department."
Her hands dropped from where she had them suspended between us, still mid-gesture, and frowned. "Oh," she whispered. "Thank you for being, you know,notcrazy. That's refreshing."
I shrugged, and took a breath to think about what I wanted to say. This pantry was spectacular, and I was definitely going to bug Sam about building something like this at the firehouse. "It's taken me a fair amount of time to benot crazy." I smoothed my hands down my skirt and glanced up at her. "Look. I'm sure I'll see you around, and I don't want that to be weird. I don't want you to assume that I'll force you into the spider dungeon, or anything terrible like that. And maybe you'll stop throwing drinks at me. That's no way to make friends. We'll benot crazy, and it won't be weird."
"Not crazy. Not weird," she vowed. "And I'll keep my hands off the Walsh boys."
