Eight
G oing to the pub wasn’t the worst idea. After the conversation they’d had, he’d tried to keep things light as they walked, and Poppy seemed to be on the same page. It was one of those hazy almost summer days that felt like it would last forever. Having Poppy next to him made his skin feel too tight. All he could notice was the way her skirt moved around her legs with each step she took.
She got a text and took her phone out to answer it.
This gave him too much time to notice how thin the material of her dress was and how, when he slowed down to walk at her pace, the scent of her vanilla body spray surrounded him. Her fingers tapped quickly on the screen of her phone and then she tucked it back into her crossbody bag.
“Sorry about that.”
“Your friends warning you to keep your guard up around me?”
“Sort of. I mean, you know everyone in Birch Lake believes we’re witches,” she said.
He’d heard that. Maybe there was more than a kernel of truth to it. That would be a nice way to explain the hold she’d always had over him even when he hadn’t wanted her to. “Are you going to curse me?”
“Who says I haven’t already?” she said.
“That would explain a lot,” he said, thinking of the past eighteen months. It would be nice to blame otherworldly forces instead of his own cocked-up stupidity. But taking ownership of his own actions was something his therapist had reinforced many times.
“Kidding. I’m not into cursing people,” she said.
A memory tugged, and he canted his head to the side to watch her. “Didn’t you make a poppet of our econ lecturer?”
Laughing in that small, tinkling sound that he couldn’t help feeling all the way to his toes. She nodded. “That’s right. I’d forgotten all about that little kit I picked up in the spiritual store. Since meeting Liberty, I know all the ways that those things can go wrong. No wonder I failed the exam.”
“I did suggest using the time reading over the notes instead of perfecting the doll,” he said as they approached the Cross Keys.
“Yeah, you did, but I’ve never been good at taking advice,” she said.
“Not sure I gave any good tips.” He held open the door for her to enter before him.
The temperature inside the pub was tepid, and it was a little stuffy given how hot it was today. “Want to try the beer garden?” he asked.
His local pub had a pretty decent dinner menu, and after eight, they had different local bands play. It was a Monday, so not a big going-out night normally. The sun was out, the pub was crowded, but they managed to find a seat toward the back of the beer garden.
Poppy looked at the menu and gave one of those smiles that sent a zing straight to his heart.
“Pub food. I mean it’s a gastropub, so some really nice dishes, but you know I’m going straight for the fish and chips,” she said with a grin. “What do you want? I’ll order for us.”
“Chicken tikka masala and a pint.”
“Do they have your IPA here?” she asked.
“They do. Is that what you want?”
It always seemed a bit braggy to order his own beer at the pub. The barrels he’d sent here were from his spring brew, and he’d tried a different way of activating the yeast that Owen had suggested. So it was different than anything he’d tried before. “I guess.”
Poppy sat back down and put her hand on his. “It’s good. I mean, I already tried that sample. I bet it would be nice with your tikka. Why are you hesitating?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. Years of conditioning from being around his father made him hesitate. If it wasn’t his best, then it wasn’t worth anything in Howard Miller’s eyes. “You sampled a different batch. The one here...I tried something different with the yeast, and it has a good flavor, but it’s not as smooth on the tongue as I want it to be,” he admitted. “Not saying it’s crap.”
Poppy leaned in closer, looking him in the eyes. “I find those types of brews teach me the most. The tea bags I brought with me are my third version of Magic Courage.”
“I bet the other two were good.”
“They were, but not perfect, so I get it. You can get whatever you want to drink. I’m going to try it. I bet you’re being too harsh,” she said. “The pub owners bought it and are selling it, so that has to count for something.”
“They like it. It’s light and perfect for a warm day, according to their customers.”
“Stop letting your dad dictate your life,” she said.
Uh.
He wanted to say, I’m not. But that was a lie. Even on his leave of absence. Even away from Lancaster-Spencer. Even as he was plotting the old man’s ouster from the company, he still felt the hold of his father. That ridiculous need to get the approval he’d always withheld and was more than likely never going to offer.
“Fair play. I’ll have the Ali’s Brew Spring.”
Poppy went and placed their order and returned a few minutes later with their pints, and the waitress followed with some tap water for them. “The owner told me this was a local ale and that it was very popular. I mentioned I’d heard it wasn’t smooth.”
“Ha. Tell me what you think,” he said, watching her as she took a delicate sip. She let the liquid stay on her tongue before swallowing it.
Staring at her, tension occupying every fiber of his being, he wondered if she’d like it or not.
Her opinion mattered way more to him than his father’s did. He wanted to impress her. Wanted to show her that he was more than what he’d been bred to be.
Drinking with Ali gave her all the feels. Most of them seemed to be centered in the very core of her. Technically, he wasn’t the hottest man she’d ever met. Surely, there had been other men who’d been more attractive. But she couldn’t think of a single one of them right now.
It was like as soon as she’d told her mind that he was off limits, it had started noticing all the little details. Like the way he fiddled with his signet ring just before he said something that made her feel warm and gooey inside.
And the way he ran his hand through his hair when he was getting serious about brewing.
It was so funny to see how much this meant to him. Her bad, but she’d totally thought he joined the Tea Society as a way to get her to come back to him. Turned out, he was really into brewing.
That single fact turned her on way more than him trying to sneak back to her. She liked that he had a legit reason for joining. Like he was sincere about being a member of the society.
“George suggested that if the kombucha turns out well, they’d stock it in the London store,” Alistair said.
“Really? He wouldn’t even consider my new blends for that location,” she said, which really had been the bucket of cold water she’d needed in her life. Everyone had said she was part of the family, but her opinion was never heard at the boardroom table and no one ever backed her.
“Shocker, right? He said that legacy brands were losing traction because they didn’t grow with the market,” Ali said. “He has moments where I sort of realize he’s not mini-dad.”
That was good to hear. Alistair had mentioned that he and George had a plan for when they spoke to his parents. “Is the plan you brought up part of that?”
His hand was in his hair again, then he drained his pint in a long swallow. “Definitely. Want another one?”
Once she nodded he went to order them more drinks.
They’d been at the Cross Keys for almost two hours. The food was nice; the fish and chips were delicious. Her nap earlier meant she wasn’t tired, but she was starting to feel slightly buzzed.
Spending time with Ali took the edge off of the anger she still had toward him. He was correct that he’d apologized. She just hadn’t been able to let go at the time. If they were strangers, she’d be thinking about taking him to her bed. But they weren’t strangers, and some petty part of her didn’t want to let go of the way he’d hurt her.
It made her feel small. How many times had she messed up and asked for forgiveness? A lot. Never had Liberty and Sera denied it to her. She’d never denied them forgiveness either. Denying him that kindness was unlike her.
Ali was from before. From a time when she thought she was an adult but totally wasn’t. Like any kid at uni was truly an adult. Her life had been full of freedom and some choices but no real responsibilities until she got married.
Then the perfect little life she’d crafted had fallen apart.
“Everything okay? You look very serious.”
Maybe it was the three pints or maybe it was just her subconscious finally deciding it was time to put it all out there, but she said, “Just trying to figure out why I can’t forgive you.”
His eyes went wide, and he took a deep swallow of his pint before plopping down across from her. “Fuck. Really? I thought we were beyond that.”
“Me too. But I’m not.”
“Want to talk about it?” he asked.
No, but totally, yes. There were things she’d never gotten to say. Unfair things, since he’d already said he’d fucked up. But she still wanted to vocalize the hurt that she’d tucked deep inside.
“I hate that you lied to me.”
“Me too. I shouldn’t have. If I’d been a different guy, I wouldn’t have.”
“Would you do it again?” she asked.
“No. Definitely not.”
She wanted to believe him. She needed to trust him. But she was so afraid of being stupid with him. “Is there anything you’re not telling me?” she asked, then put her hand on his lips to stop him from speaking. “Never mind.”
“Why?”
She shrugged. “You shouldn’t have to prove that you’ve changed.”
“Agree, but if you need me to, I will,” he said. “I need some absolution—not that you have to give it to me.”
“Didn’t mean to ruin our night,” she said.
“You didn’t. Listen, we both know what our marriage and courtship were like. The more we talk about it maybe we can finally put it in the past.”
“Agreed. My mum never said told you so , but she thought we were both too young when we got married.”
“My parents did too,” he admitted.
“Really? Didn’t they tell you to marry me?”
“No, that was all me. I was supposed to befriend you and then offer you an insane amount of money if you sold me the recipe.”
She had always suspected his family had sent him to marry her. Something that had underscored how stupidly in love with Alistair she’d been. Like, how could she have missed that? But hearing that he was only meant to make her a business offer... Well, that sort of tracked.
There was no denying the chemistry between her and Ali. He drew her in like no other man ever had. That was why she’d put up with so much from him. Stayed as long as she had in a situation that went from happily-ever-after to a nightmare of family corporate dynamics.
The offer that Howard made when she went to work that first day as Alistair’s wife and a junior executive had come out of the blue. Though she’d known that Alistair was part of Lancaster-Spencer, she’d never really thought the company was still after her family’s prized tea recipe. They’d offered her compensation, but the fine print—which she hadn’t truly understood until it was too late—stated that Lancaster-Spencer would own the recipe and Poppy and her heirs wouldn’t be able to claim it any longer.
That moment had been a betrayal that cut so deep she’d needed Ali to help her survive. Instead, he’d told her it was just business and her heirs would be his kids, so no biggie.
But it was a biggie. The first of many that led to the dissolution of their marriage. Why had he married her then? Also, if they’d only wanted the recipe...well, that explained why they were never on board with her suggestions in the boardroom.
“Why didn’t you?”
“I liked you,” he said plainly.
She’d liked him too. But there was more to it than that.
“And?”
“Having you by my side with the Kitchener legacy teas would give me an edge over George. For once, I had delivered something my brother couldn’t.”
His father’s approval. Ali had made no bones of hiding his pursuit of it when he and Poppy were together. He talked about his dad all the time. How much he wanted to prove he should inherit the chairmanship.
She had no response to that.
“If I’d been smarter, I would have realized that every plan I made included having you by my side.”
Fuck. Tension and anger stirred at his actions. He’d been shortsighted but also so blinded by ambition and desire that he hadn’t seen how his path was going to end in a train wreck.
Poppy’s eyes went wide for a moment before she chewed her bottom lip. “I think knowing that you wanted me by your side helps,” she said.
“How? That makes it worse for me,” he said. “What a bastard I was.”
“One hundred percent. But you never would have admitted that when we were married. Let’s have a toast to letting go of who we were,” she said.
“What are you letting go of?”
“Thinking I needed a man to love me so I had worth.” Not a single pause. Her answer was automatic.
“You’ve never needed that.”
She shrugged. “I see that now. You gave me that.”
“You gave me freedom from my family,” he said. He hoped she never heard about his epic meltdown and the anger he exhibited that day. There were no two ways about it: her forcing the divorce had forced him to change.
“Cheers to us,” she said.
He clinked her glass. The regrets that were always near the surface felt...well, better. Not as close or intense as they normally did. Talking had never been something he wanted to do with anyone. But he’d needed this.
“Thanks, Pop.”
“For?”
Showing him once again all the things he’d never acknowledged when he was selfish and focused on getting what he wanted. “Being you.”
“You’re welcome. Sorry I wasn’t more my authentic self earlier. Might have helped us both.”
“You don’t have to take any of the blame. It was totally me.”
“It was mostly you. I was in that relationship, and I didn’t have the agency to stand up for myself. I just went along trying to please you. That’s on me.”
This was exactly what he needed.
She tipped her head to the side as the band started playing their version of “Back to You.” That song had been on repeat the summer they got married.
“Our song...” He’d never been into that kind of thing, but Poppy had always called it that.
She started to say something, and he held his hand up in protest. He wasn’t ready for the truth bomb she was no doubt going to drop. Instead, he held his hand out. Some people were dancing.
Poppy hesitated and then took it, and he pulled her into his arms.
Now, as he listened to the lyrics, he realized how much he wanted to hold her. Was grateful her body was pressed against his as they swayed to the music. Poppy always seemed to embody music. Her arms were over her head, and her hips moved to the beat. He swayed from foot to foot.
His mind always concentrated on the regrets. Like forgetting how it felt to be in her orbit. She might have thought that she needed to feel worthy of him, but there was so much power in her. Whenever she danced and moved, he was utterly captivated.
Poppy was comfortable in her skin in a way he’d never been.
She grabbed his hand and pulled him into the rhythm, her hands on his hips until he found the beat. She danced around him, her hips brushing against his. The coolness of the material of her skirt against his bare legs made him forget everything but her.
He put his hands on her waist and pulled her into his body, his mouth on hers, her hands in his hair. He’d have a million tough conversations with her if it meant she’d come into his arms like this again.
Not just for a few nights. There was no denying he wanted her to come back to him. He’d tried to dress it up to make him feel better about approaching her when she’d clearly moved on. But he no longer could deny that this was why he’d joined the Tea Society.
Sure, he wanted to help her, but he really wanted to help himself. Wanted to be the man who was worthy of being loved by Poppy.
Alistair wasn’t sure that he even knew what love was, but he was going to try to figure it out.
She tasted of the spring brew and something that was just purely Poppy. He deepened the kiss for a split second before it trickled into his mind that they were in the beer garden. In public.
“Want to get out of here?”
“ Yesss. That song...I’m back here with you,” she said.
“Indeed.”
“Don’t fuck me over again,” she said quietly as she grabbed her bag and led the way out of the pub.
How could he tell her that he never intended to before?
Did he need Poppy now because he was on the cusp of severing his connection to his family? They might not be the most ideal family, but they were his. Ever since he’d left for boarding school, he’d felt alone. His name and the need to prove himself as a Miller had always driven him.
He was on his own now.
Maybe he was still that guy. Totally making choices that felt right for him but might not be right for her.
He had to remember that he was filtering this through his awakened self. That he was trying to be more temperate and not act on impulse.
He had to be very sure that he wasn’t using Poppy once again.