Eighteen
T he summer days were long and felt like they’d last forever, but as July bled into August, Poppy knew they wouldn’t. The hints of fall were in the air, and she and Alistair weren’t having discussions of the future.
She wasn’t entirely sure if that was her idea or his. But so far, it was working for them. Working in a way that made everything feel as sweet as the sun-warmed strawberries she’d found at a farm stand on her way home from work.
The last of the season. That was what Charlotte, the woman who owned the farm stand told her as she put them in the basket on her bicycle.
Liberty was even talking about the end-of-summer ritual. The plan was to go up to Hanging Hill to celebrate the transition of the seasons. Poppy was looking forward to that. The last transition, from spring into summer, had been powerful for her at the Tor. The start of her and Ali.
He was leaning against her front door when she pulled into the drive of her cottage. She loved her little house set a few blocks off Main Street. She wasn’t sure she’d see Ali today, as he’d been working with Owen to get ready for the Beer Fest, which they were hosting this weekend in the park.
“Hey.”
“Hiya. Hope you don’t mind me just showing up.”
“Of course not. I picked up some strawberries on my way home. I was going to try to dehydrate some to put in my end-of-summer tea blend,” she mentioned. “I haven’t checked our kombucha today.”
“I climbed your fence and checked them. I think they might be ready,” he said.
“The gate is never locked, so next time you can just walk through it,” she pointed out as she unlocked her front door.
“Good to know,” he said.
Pickle ran to greet them, dancing around both of their legs until they petted her. She followed them into the kitchen, where Poppy put the strawberries on the counter next to the fresh-cut flowers she’d also picked up.
Alistair pulled a vase from the cabinet under the sink and put water in it while she got them both some herbal peach iced tea from her fridge.
What felt like an attack of vertigo overwhelmed her. There were moments when she wanted to stub her toe really hard so she’d know this was real.
He was everything she’d wanted from him when they were married. All the things she’d asked for that he never had time for, which was nice. But it was the unspoken things that really got to her. The way he seemed to know when she needed him. Making her laugh about nothing or having a serious conversation about how much they’d changed.
It felt like a dream she’d never expected to come true.
She could almost believe it was real, except there was one thing he never talked about. Him.
He talked about her, his brother, Lancaster-Spencer, beer brewing, kombucha, even D&D and WiCKed Sisters. But when she broached how long he was on leave from Lancaster-Spencer, he always changed the subject.
She sighed to herself as she followed him out to the shed where their jars of kombucha were. They’d added the champagne yeast a week ago, so anytime now they’d be able to sample it and transfer it to bottles. But it would have to taste dry and boozy first.
“Poppy?”
“Hmm?” She hadn’t been paying attention at all. She wanted to ask him about his future with Lancaster-Spencer. But she also didn’t want to ruin these perfect long summer days with him.
Now who was being fake?
Not fake, exactly, just not wanting to lose this unexpected happiness. Was there really anything wrong with that?
“Should we try it tonight or wait a few more days?” he asked.
“The recipe said seven to fourteen days, and it’s been seven. Maybe we should try it at ten days?” she suggested. “Will it be ruined if we take the airlocks off too soon?”
“No. Also, it will take three to ten days to add flavors in the sealed bottles. So if we want them for August 15 and the Tea Society tasting, we’re going to need to sample and then bottle them which might be pushing it.”
“Yeah. What do you think?” she asked. Instead of asking the question she really wanted an answer to. Why did you leave your family company? Why abandon the one place that dominated your life?
“I like the idea of doing it at day ten,” he said.
“Good. So are you working tonight?” she asked.
“Yeah, and Owen has a date,” Ali said with a teasing tone.
“He does? I’m not sure why I’m shocked, but I am. I mean, he’s always just in the tavern.”
“According to Lars, you should be shocked. She’s from Bangor and they met online,” Ali said as they walked back to her house.
“Nice,” she said. She was happy for Owen, really she was. But Ali’s past was heavy on her mind. And so was what that meant for the two of them.
He stood next to her, his head cocked to one side after he’d whipped his shirt off and tossed it on the back of a chair. “The heat... I hate to be that British guy, but I’m ready for some rain.”
“It is hot,” she admitted. “Speaking of England...”
“Were we?”
No, of course they weren’t, but there was no way to ease into the prying questions she had for him. No way to let them lie either. She needed to know. It was time for answers, and she’d about run out of ways to distract herself.
It would be different if she wasn’t falling for him. But she was. There was still so much about him she didn’t know.
“I was,” she said. “Why did you leave Lancaster-Spencer?”
“That’s a long story,” he said. “I’m not sure I can do it justice before I leave for my shift.”
He took his shirt off the back of the chair and walked into the house.
Of course she wanted to know why he left. It was surprising she’d waited this long to ask.
“Fine. I just... It feels like you’re hiding something from me,” she said, following him into the house. “It’s okay, we don’t have to be each other’s confessor or anything like that, but this feels important.”
It was. Way more than she’d ever guess.
But he didn’t want her to know what had happened. That he’d lost it in such a big way that even his family, with all their connections and influence, had been left with no option but to put him on a permanent leave and in therapy.
It wasn’t the way he wanted her to see him. The work he’d done since that moment was what helped him keep it together now.
Anger and guilt and shame were a potent cocktail running through his veins. He’d be unpredictable if he didn’t take control.
“You’re right.” He bit the words out angrily.
Poppy took a step back from him.
He clenched and unclenched his hands, breathing deeply through his nose. God, don’t let me be like this. He repeated the words until he felt more centered.
“You’re right,” he repeated, the words calmer and more rational this time. “Trust me when I say it’s not something I want to tell you about and then leave. But I said I’d be at the tavern at seven, and it’s six thirty now. I will tell you,” he promised.
An eternity passed before she nodded and then came over and hugged him. She wrapped her arms around him, putting her head on his chest.
He circled her with one arm, blinking to keep tears back. Her acceptance of this broken version of the man he wanted to be got to him, hard. He cleared his throat. “Want to come to work with me?”
“And hang out while you work? Maybe. Let me see if anyone’s free to join me. I think Wes and Sera are both back from an estate sale. Could you save a table for me?”
“I will,” he said.
An alarm buzzed on his watch, and he knew he had to leave to get to the tavern, but he didn’t want to. Everything felt off. His fault. Again. Was he ever going to do things right with her? Would anything be easy when it came to Poppy? Or was he always going to be on the back foot with her?
“I’ll see you later. Probably in about thirty minutes or so. I want a shower,” she said.
“I want one with you,” he said. All he could see was her naked, water sliding down her body. He knew how she tipped her head back and let the water run down her face before she started washing. That she uttered her thanks for clean, cool water. He’d watched her too many times for his body not to react to imagining showering with her.
“Maybe after work,” she said, pushing him toward the door.
After they talked. He was pretty sure she wasn’t going to let this get swept under the rug. He didn’t want to either. Things had been so good between them for the past few weeks. He kept trying to tell himself that he was ready for this life.
But there were parts of his past that didn’t involve her. Things she still didn’t know that he felt she deserved to.
Their divorce had stripped away the mask of civility he’d always hidden behind. It had taken a few months for him to become the monster he’d always felt he was at his core. That man who was nothing but a servant to his hormones and emotions. The ones that he’d never learned to really deal with.
He had to get out of here now, or he was going to confess it all, and then, depending on how she reacted...he had no idea what would happen.
At first, he kissed her hard because of the turmoil inside of him, and then more gently, because this was Poppy. His moon fairy. Her magic had wrapped itself around him and wasn’t letting up, making it easier to be the man he wanted to be.
But when she learned how far he’d fallen, would she still want him?
“See ya later.” He forced himself to calmly leave her house.
He’d jogged over earlier, but a full run now would do him good. He took the shortest route back to the tavern, even though his mind was desperate for a longer run. There was no time.
Ironic that, in the past, he would have just blown off his shift at the tavern. But he’d given his word to Owen, a man who was probably his first true friend, and Ali wasn’t going to break it. That guy was in the past. As was the man who let anger take everything he’d worked his entire life for.
That guy was gone.
He got to the tavern with five minutes to spare. He hurried upstairs to use the shower in Lily’s old apartment and changed into the jeans and Bootless Soldier T-shirt that served as the tavern’s uniform.
When he entered the bar, it was noisy and busy. Crowded. Just what he needed. No time to think or dwell on whatever would happen later when he talked to Poppy.
He spotted Lars behind the bar. “Alright?”
“Yeah it’s good,” Lars said. “I’m going to grab dinner, and then I’ll be back, so you won’t have to cover the whole night. Thanks again for helping out.”
“It’s what mates do.”
Lars just smiled and left.
Alistair was kept busy with drink orders and keeping an eye on the rest of the seasonal staff, who sometimes had questions about the curated ales in the summer festival range.
He was busy, but not so much so that he missed the moment that Poppy entered the tavern wearing a sundress, her hair in a braid. Their eyes met, his heart raced, and that fear that he’d been trying to control since she asked why he left Lancaster-Spencer snaked its way into his stomach.
As if nothing was wrong and things were the exact same as yesterday, he smiled over at her and gestured to the table he’d saved for her.
Poppy’s eyes had drifted to Alistair so many times, she finally just sighed and turned her attention back to her e-reader. She was meant to be reading a book on traditional kombucha brewing.
“I need a large glass of wine,” Sera said as she plopped down next to her.
“I’ll get you one. What’s up?” Poppy said.
“Liberty’s parking the car. I promised I wouldn’t spill until she was here. She wants a large as well.”
“Should I get a bottle of rosé?”
“Definitely,” Sera said.
Sera was never like this. Standing, Poppy hugged her friend and then went to order a bottle of wine and three glasses from Von, one of the summer staff that worked at the tavern.
Ali, who was talking to a customer, glanced over at her, one eyebrow raised. Poppy shrugged, tilting her head back toward Sera. He nodded.
As she took the glasses from Von, some of the stress she was feeling about her and Ali disappeared. They just communicated the way couples do. That was reassuring. It wasn’t something they did at all when they were married. Mainly because Ali had been so into himself and his goals.
The panic she felt from the moment he told her they wouldn’t be talking until later eased a bit. Plus, right now, she wanted to concentrate on Sera. Concern for her friend had her hurrying back to the table.
Liberty came in just as Poppy sat back down. Von delivered the wine in an ice bucket, and a few minutes later, the nachos Poppy ordered arrived too.
“Okay, what’s going on?” Liberty asked Sera. “We’ve needed a girls night, but your text sounded urgent.”
“What text?” Poppy realized she hadn’t glanced at her phone since she’d gotten to the tavern. “Sorry, I was busy...”
“Watching Ali. We know. That’s why we came here,” Liberty said.
They all had the friend tracker on their phones, so Poppy would have been easy to find. “What is going on?”
“Wes wants to get married in January,” Sera said at last.
Poppy watched her friend carefully. Why wasn’t Sera happy? “Okay, I don’t get why that’s a bad thing... I thought you were both talking about it.”
Sera cleared her throat. “We were, but tonight he said once we’re married, we’d start thinking about kids.”
Ah, kids. Sera had grown up in the foster care system. It wasn’t a topic she spent a lot of time talking about, but Poppy knew her friend still had some triggers from that. She was deeply aware of the instability of families and how fragile children were.
“Did you tell him it’s a hard no?” Liberty asked. “You can set limits. For what it’s worth, I think Wes loves you so much he’d understand.”
“I agree. He knows you, Sera,” Poppy added.
“What if this is the breaking point for him? I mean, it’s taken me forever to agree to marry him, and now that he’s brought up kids, I just panicked,” she said. “I told him we should take a break. Which he...”
“Um, he’s here,” Liberty said.
“What?”
“Just walked in the door, and he’s spotted us. Uh, he’s coming this way,” Liberty said.
Poppy hopped out of her chair and moved to the other side of the table as Wes approached. He looked...determined.
“I got your text,” he said. His jaw was clenched, and he looked tense as he sat down next to Sera.
She texted him to say she wanted a break?
“I’m sorry. I should have called you, but I wasn’t sure what to say, and I needed—”
“Your sisters. I get that. For years, I’ve shut down and walked away from the people in my life who are important, afraid of letting them see what they mean to me. I’m not doing that with you. I asked the question because I thought you might want to look into fostering to give kids a chance at a real home,” he said. “I meant it as a discussion starter, not a relationship ender.”
Sera shook her head. “You know how I am.”
“I do, which is why I’m here,” he said. “Talk to your girls, figure this out for yourself. But know that I love you, and I’m not going anywhere.”
Sera threw herself into Wes’s arms, muttering something against his neck that Poppy couldn’t really hear. She made out “love you” and “scared” and “Robinson Crusoe.” The couple started kissing, and Poppy and Liberty looked at each other.
“So how’s things with Ali?” Liberty asked, leaving the other two to make up in their way.
“Good.”
“Too good?”
“Maybe. I’m not sure. He’s on a leave of absence from his job and has been for a while. I’ve never asked why until today. We’re going to talk after he’s done working,” she said.
“Is that a big deal? I thought rich dudes didn’t have to work and that jobs at their families’ companies were just for show.”
“You watch too much TV. It was a big deal. Think Succession , not Love Island ,” Poppy said.
“Ah. And he’s the second son, so the pressure was always on him to unseat his older brother,” Liberty said.
Poppy laughed. “I’m not sure that’s accurate, but he did want to please his father. Our marriage secured a recipe that no one else in the history of the company had come close to getting.”
“So him leaving is a big deal?”
She shrugged again. Who knew? He and George had been friendlier than she had ever seen them at the wedding. His father hadn’t acted like there was anything untoward about Alistair. So it was only his reaction to her question that had fear niggling the corners of her brain.
What was he hiding? He had admitted that he hadn’t told her everything, but he also promised to reveal it all soon.
Sera turned back to them and asked if Wes could stay. Though Poppy would have liked it to be just the three of them, she smiled her yes.
Liberty squeezed her leg under the table. “You don’t have to always be nice.”
But she did. That was how she operated.