Two
I t was all well and good that Alistair wanted to help her get a fair deal from his family, but it was also a lot sus. He’d literally never cared about her position in the family before this. Part of why her marriage hadn’t been the love match she’d believed it to be.
Grimacing while he nervously kneaded his own legs, Alistair took his time answering.
Over his shoulder, she noticed Sera and Liberty coming closer to them. The doubts that she’d been struggling to contain were assuaged by their presence. The warmth of that bond and friendship gave her strength.
“If you can’t answer me, then we’re done,” she said. Merle had been right about her needing closure, but she wasn’t getting back on the hamster wheel that had been her life with Alistair.
“For fuck’s sake, Poppy. I’m trying.”
“Good for you. Try harder. I need to know what I’m walking into. You and I don’t speak the same language.”
He inhaled deeply, making his chest flex, something she noted and tried to ignore. But Alistair had always been a physical guy, working out, and it was hard to ignore how ripped he was. One of the things that had originally drawn her eye to him was his body. He looked like a sexier version of Harry Styles, mixed with Timothée Chalamet, with a little old-school Chris Pine— Princess Diaries era. One look at him, and she’d fallen hard.
“Fine. I am on a leave of absence—”
“You need me to get you back in?” Disappointed in herself for believing for half a second that he might be here for some other reason. Of course it was about pleasing his father and reclaiming his place in the family company.
“No. NO. Let me start over. I don’t want to get back in. I am trying to right past wrongs. I should have read that contract before I told you to sign it. I want you to get what you deserve, not continue being screwed over by Lancaster-Spencer Tea Makers as you have been.”
If what he was saying was true... But how could she trust Alistair again? What did it say about her that she really wanted to? It had taken her five long years to start repairing that damage, and it was only the bond she had with Sera and Liberty that made the healing easier. “That’s nice,” she said.
“If you’re going to be like that, then don’t bother.”
“Like what?” she demanded, feeling her own anger building for the first time. Something she hadn’t allowed since she’d walked out of their flat in Kensington.
“Treating me like I deserve to be treated. If this isn’t the time and you’re not ready to let go of the past, well, I respect that. But my father is going to come for you, and he’s got good corporate solicitors that rarely lose.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” she said. But his honesty here was appreciated. “How would us pretending to be married help?”
“As my wife, you have some sway on the board. Mum and George will stand with us when we go up against Dad. We have enough power to sway him, but they want the tea blend for Lancaster-Spencer, and if you don’t do this, they’ll side with him. They’re both looking at the bottom line.”
Of course they were. Part of her understood, because she and Sera and Liberty had to do the same thing. Running a business was eye-opening and sometimes challenging. But at WiCKed Sisters, they never screwed anyone.
“If I went, when would we leave and return? I can’t just jet off and leave my store,” she said.
“I thought we’d leave on Sunday—”
“In two days?”
He had the grace to look sheepish. “I was afraid if I gave you too much time to think, you’d say no.”
“I haven’t said yes.”
He totally ignored that. “The wedding is on Saturday, and I figured we’d fly back on Monday. I’ll pay for everything.”
“Legend,” she said sarcastically.
He pushed his hand through his hair and looked down at the table before locking eyes with her. “I get it. I’m an ass, and I treated you poorly. I am sorry. You know that. I’ve apologized. I’m trying to at least get something good for you out of the mess that our marriage was.”
Her heart tugged. She couldn’t resist Ali when he was sincere, which wasn’t as often as she would have liked. But now...when the change in him flashed...
Goddess, don’t let me be wrong again.
“Sorry for being a bitch about it. I accepted your apology in that email. But I didn’t expect... Well I had no idea what it would be like seeing you in person again,” she said.
Damn Ali. At this moment, he embodied all the things she liked about him, owning his mistakes in a way that he’d only done when they were dating. She wouldn’t deny that hearing him say she deserved better than Lancaster-Spencer made her melt a little.
“Me either,” he admitted.
“I need some time to think.” But she already was leaning toward going with him. Did that make her the most pitiful woman on the planet? Luckily, she had “Bad Idea Right?” by Olivia Rodrigo on replay in her head. At least other women also struggled with exes they still had feelings for.
Cutting herself a break, she was going to send him on his way. Chances were, she was going to the UK on Sunday for a week, which meant she needed to get more staff in. That didn’t mean that Alistair shouldn’t sweat a little. Things came too easily to him the first time...
“I’ll give you my answer tomorrow,” she said, standing.
Alistair gave her a tight nod and then turned to walk out of the shop.
Watching him leave, she tried to concentrate on anything but the silver lining of this offer. Alistair was clearly different, but that didn’t mean he was better for her than he’d been before. Maybe she could finally get over him after this one final adventure together.
She had to be careful she wasn’t all hello, love when she should be goodbye, lover . It was a delicate balance, and one only she could weigh and decide on.
“So that’s your ex.” Sera threaded her arm through Poppy’s. “What did he want? The wedding again?”
“Yes, and his dad is going to sue me for the rights to put out the Amber Rapp tea blend.”
“That bastard. I’ll curse him,” Liberty shouted, starting toward her part of the shop.
Poppy grabbed her arm to stop her. “Not yet. But would you read my cards? I need some guidance.”
“Of course.” Liberty looked over at Merle, blew him a kiss. “Watch the shop?”
“Sure. Is Greer still here, Sera?”
“Yes, they are. Do you think the two of you can handle everything?” Sera asked.
“Definitely.”
Alistair rented a room above the Bootless Soldier Tavern on Main Street. He’d been corresponding with Owen Krog, one of the brothers who owned the place, and Owen offered Alistair his brother’s girlfriend’s old flat while he was in town. Both of them were interested in beer and brewing hard kombucha, and meeting and bonding online.
The apartment was basically one large room with a kitchen nestled into the corner. The counters were covered with a utensil jar and a large butcher-block cutting board. Owen had told him where the nearest grocery store was. Alistair wasn’t here long enough to think about cooking, but this place would be ideal if he were.
There was a bedroom in the back with an adjoining bathroom and a large king-size bed that was comfortable—not that he anticipated a good night’s sleep. It had been years since he’d slept for more than four to six hours at night. Part of him hoped if he did this good thing for Poppy, it would be one less blot on his soul. Perhaps the sleep that had eluded him for so long would come at last.
Probably not. He had so many blots that it would take another lifetime to fill them all in.
Walking across the hardwood floor to the window that looked down over Main Street he could just make out the wrought iron sign that hung in front of WiCKed Sisters. It was hard to reconcile Poppy as an independent businesswoman. Of course, it wasn’t that he didn’t think she was capable. It was simply that when she worked for Lancaster-Spencer Tea Makers, she’d hated it. Being her own boss had never seemed like something she wanted.
As if he needed another reminder of how little he’d actually known about her. Had that woman always been there? He couldn’t say.
He’d been so focused on fitting in for the first time in his life and earning his father’s respect that Poppy had come a distant second to everything else.
There was no way he was going to do that again. This time, he was making things right. For her. His craving to belong was still there, but it was tempered by his need to make sure that he chose the right place to fit in.
It would be nice if Owen was in town to join him for a pint, but he’d gone to Bangor to meet with a distributor. His brother Lars had been friendly but wasn’t interested in brewing, so there was no distraction from that fuckup with Poppy. Instead, when Alistair got to his room, he changed into his gym clothes, checked his running app for places near him to run and went out.
Running usually saved his sanity, but today, as he ran out of the town of Birch Lake and into the rural countryside, all he could see was Poppy’s face. Not just the way she was today but how she’d been when they first met.
He’d spent so much time staring at old pictures of her, they’d started to color the way he thought of their history. Poppy had been in love with him. Something he’d missed because she’d been an objective he needed to achieve his own goals. He’d hoped that maybe some residual feelings remained, but he knew that wasn’t reality.
He was one of those guys that took everything as far as it could go, even his fuckups. So he’d really screwed over Poppy in ways he hadn’t intended. He’d never meant to fall for her, but he had, then he’d felt so damned conflicted. It was hard to balance his family’s ambitions against his feelings for Poppy. There was no way she was going to forgive him. He wouldn’t forgive himself.
Getting her out of the Lancaster-Spencer contract was the best he could do. He was determined that, even if she turned him down, he’d convince George and Mum to side with him. Maybe he would have been a better man to have worked behind the scenes to just make it happen for her.
But no matter how much he thought he’d changed, there was still a part of him that wanted the accolades. Wanted Poppy to be all like, Alistair, you’re a legend ... Just not in the way she’d said it today.
Also he’d needed to see her again. Was tired of picturing her as that teacup instead of the vibrant, sexy woman she was. Poppy was more than he’d remembered.
Take the hint. She wasn’t going to ever look at him again the way she had on their wedding day. That was his fault.
He headed back to his room drenched in sweat, but his emotions still roiled inside of him like a storm off the North Atlantic, flooding him with all the feels he knew better than to indulge in. Part of him wished Merle had taken him up on the fight he’d been spoiling for in Poppy’s tea shop. Of course, if he had, then Alistair would definitely be on his way to London alone.
He showered, then checked the Secret Tea Society Discord. The group had given him space to develop friendships outside of his family and wealthy connections. He hadn’t expected that. But most of his life these days was new territory.
No one was online. The tavern served food, so he decided to go get dinner.
The Bootless Soldier reminded him of pubs in the UK. They even had a dartboard in the back and did trivia nights. A pub night might be what he needed. Getting pissed and talking to strangers had always been his jam.
He needed to just be Ali. Not Alistair Miller, second son of Howard Miller, eighth Earl of Winfield and CEO of Lancaster-Spencer Tea Makers. It was time to get his drink on and forget his mistakes, even if just for a few hours. Pocketing his keys, he made his way downstairs and into the tavern.
It was just after seven, and the tavern wasn’t that busy, which was surprising given that it was a Friday.
Lars noticed him coming in and waved. The tavern was counter service, and Alistair made his way over to order food. He wanted to try the IPA that Owen had recently brewed.
“Alright?”
“Yeah, I’m good. What can I get you?” Lars asked.
“Owen’s IPA. I’m interested to see how his turned out. Mine had a rounded bitterness that didn’t fade.”
“It’s good. Very popular. We’re thinking of expanding the microbrewery,” Lars said.
“He mentioned that,” Alistair said, leaning against the bar to chat with Lars while he sipped his beer and waited for his food.
A woman’s laugh rang out in the tavern above the din of conversations. Poppy. Trying to be cool, he canted his head to the side. Their eyes met, and her laughter died.
Fuck him.
This was exactly what he deserved after the way he treated her. “Do you think there’s a point where it’s too late to try to fix the past?”
“Not if it’s important,” Lars said. “Some things just take longer. Your food is ready. Where are you going to sit?”
Back in his room would be the smart answer, but he knew for his mental health that when he was in this mood, it was better to be around people. On his own, there was a chance he’d spiral and do something stupid.
He glanced around looking for a table and saw Poppy standing behind him. “Want to join us?”
“Us?”
“Sera, Wes, Liberty and Merle.”
“Do they all know I’m your ex?”
“Yup.”
There was a steadiness in Poppy’s expression. His plan to give her space wasn’t working because he’d done nothing but think about her before this. “Sure. I like a challenge.”
“What challenge?”
“Getting them to like me and getting you to see the ways I’ve changed,” he said.
“It’s one dinner,” she pointed out dryly.
He’d missed her more than he’d realized until this moment. “Don’t underestimate my charm.”
“Oh, I never do.”
He followed her back to her table with his tray of food and his beer. It was safe to say that no one looked excited to see him. But that had been true of so many first encounters in his life. So he just shrugged and took a seat next to Poppy.
She formally introduced Alistair to everyone. An awkward silence fell around the table. Wes made an effort to get the conversation started.
“How long are you in town?” he asked.
Alistair took a sip of his beer and started to eat the chunky beef and Guinness meat pie that the tavern had on special today. “Until Sunday. Wish I could stay longer. Birch Lake is charming.”
“But you have to get back to your family,” Liberty said, a bit of an edge in her voice.
“That’s right. My cousin is getting married. I think that, Merle, you got an invite, right?”
“Yeah. I’m not really into weddings or England,” he said. “Mom and Dad are going. Dad wants to play St Andrews again, so they’ll be heading to Scotland after the wedding.”
“How are you related to his cousin?” Sera asked.
“I’m not. They...um, invited us because of Poppy. We had a good time at her wedding reception and sort of became friends.” Merle’s explanation was the easiest.
No use saying that Gemma had been one of her best friends and had come over to visit Poppy in Maine once a year since Poppy had left the UK. She didn’t want to rub salt in the wound for Alistair, but the truth was he’d crushed her, and she’d needed the support of Gemma and Merle, until she’d met Liberty and Sera.
“Did your mom and dad take your invite?” Poppy asked Merle.
“I asked if they could attend in my place, and you know Gemma, she was good with it.”
“Classic Gemma. She’s very generous,” Alistair said.
Gemma had always been one of those people who treated everyone like they were her family. Which was how Poppy had first met Alistair. Freshers week, she hadn’t really known anyone—none of them had. It was her first week at uni with a bunch of other new freshmen. The university put on a series of events so that all the kids could get to know each other. Gemma, her roommate then, had thrown a pre-drinks get-together at their dorm, and her cousin Ali had been there.
At the time, he’d just been this hot bad boy, but looking back, it seemed his family had used Gemma to connect her with Ali.
“Yeah, she is,” Poppy said, not really wanting to take a trip to the past and the night she’d met him. She’d taken one look at him and fallen hard.
“What are you up to these days?” Alistair asked Merle. “Still doing tech stuff?”
“Yeah. I’m a white hat. I write code and algorithms for an online company that tries to stop cyber fraud.”
“Wow, that sounds fascinating.”
“You still a corporate dou—”
“Dude,” Merle cut Liberty off, which made Liberty punch his shoulder.
“Nah, I’m on a leave of absence. I’ve been brewing beer. Really getting into unusual blends. Recently, I decided to try hard kombucha. That’s why I joined Poppy’s tea group.”
“What kind of blends?” Wes asked. “My brother got my dad a kit for Christmas, and he struggled with the first batch. So now he’s determined to get it right. He keeps trying variations on recipes.”
Alistair relaxed as he started talking about brewing and giving Wes tips for his dad. Apparently, most problems stemmed from not getting the yeast right or not having a completely dry, clean container to brew in.
“Hey, would you mind if I called him, and you could tell him what you told me?” Wes asked.
“Not at all. Want to step outside to do it?” Alistair offered.
The two men got up and left.
“Why’d you punch me?” Merle demanded of Liberty.
“Why’d you stop me from calling him a douche?”
“Poppy hasn’t decided what she’s doing yet. If they reconcile and you alienate him, witch, you’ll have to apologize, and you’d hate that.”
“You did it for me?” Liberty put her arms around Merle’s shoulders and kissed him. “Thanks, nerd.”
“No problem.” Merle was blushing slightly, but he kept one of Liberty’s hands in his.
Poppy had almost stayed home tonight but was glad she hadn’t. She wouldn’t deprive herself of seeing her closest friends in love. Maybe her reluctance was about potentially seeing Alistair again. It was interesting because he seemed more like the guy she’d first met, but mixed with this interesting guy she’d never seen before. A fun-loving man who could talk about anything.
He was good at putting people at ease, and he’d done it tonight. And his beer brewing was interesting. Ali had never really had passion around Lancaster-Spencer... Ambition and determination, yes, but nothing like the way he was when he talked about brewing. She knew him well enough to see that he was genuinely passionate about it. There was a cute little wrinkle between his brows when he got earnest.
She’d never asked any details about his brewing process in their Discord group. Maybe she hadn’t been ready to see that side of him.
“Wes seems to like him,” Sera said.
“Yeah. He’s a nice guy. It’s okay if you guys like him too,” Poppy said. “Lots of people are friends with their ex.”
Yeah, but they probably don’t go all soft and gooey inside when their ex sits next to them at the table. That was something she was going to have to deal with. Lusting after Alistair was nothing new to her. That was easy. It was the emotional cost she’d pay if she opened that door again that would be difficult.
Because as much as she wanted to say she was over him emotionally, she wasn’t. A part of her was still in love with him, still dreamed of the good times and wondered if maybe there had been some way to make things work. That fact was driven home to her as he and Wes walked back in, and Alistair gave her a sheepish smile while Wes told everyone how helpful Alistair had been with his dad. She’d never seen that look on his face before, and it sent a zing through her.
The tension left the group after that. They all moved over to the dartboard, and Ali suggested they play Nine Lives, a game where each player threw three darts on their turn. If they missed all three shots, they were out.
They took turns ordering rounds, and everyone was laughing as the night wore on.
“How did I not know you were rubbish at throwing?” Wes asked Sera, wrapping his arms around her from behind.
“It’s never come up. Wait... Did you think I was good at it?”
“Yes, you’re good at everything,” he said.
Sera turned in his arms, whispering something that made Wes lift her up and turn his back to the rest of them while they made out.
Merle and Liberty were both good, but Merle—having grown up in an athletic family—was slightly better and kept beating Liberty’s throw each round.
Soon it was just her and Ali standing awkwardly in front of the dartboard.
“Want to get out of here?” he asked. “I’ll walk you home.”
Home and Ali...two things that totally shouldn’t send an illicit thrill through her.