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 RobandBenandSam. 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.
