Twenty-Two
C ouldn’t live without her. The words echoed through her joy-soaked mind as she was plastered to his back on the Ducati. The blue moon was large and full, casting the two of them in her glow. Every nerve in her body buzzed from the quickie on his bike and the energy she’d gotten from being with Liberty and Sera.
Right at the edge of her subconscious was just the tiniest—like barely present—strand of fear. He’d uttered the words and then let them fall, hustling her into the helmet and onto the bike. He’d been quiet on the ride.
The light of the moon showed signs that fall was around the corner. The fields had been harvested and no longer overflowed with berries and other summer crops. Some of the branches of the trees they flew past on his bike weren’t as full as they had been just a week ago.
Fall beckoned. It was time for Ali to go back to the UK. He didn’t have a permanent visa. He couldn’t just decide to stay.
Did he think she’d go back to England?
Would she if he asked?
The scary part was that there was a version of herself that would be tempted to, no matter that she’d built the woman she was today in Birch Lake. That her life, her business, the family she chose, were all here.
But he wasn’t. He was temporary. Except that comment...did that mean he wanted more?
It felt like the questions were going to burst out of her if she tried to stymy them for much longer. Being hesitant wasn’t unlike Ali when he was trying to figure something out.
But her silence was another matter.
Be present. Make your own choices. Don’t assume.
Those were things she kept writing in her journal, but somehow that little ribbon of fear had kept her quiet for far too long.
Until she couldn’t take it anymore.
“What did you mean?” she asked at last.
The words felt like they were ripped from the very deepest part of her psyche, but they came out all cool, as if she hadn’t spent the past ten minutes trying to figure out the best way to ask them.
“How many ways could you take that?” he asked back, his voice a low rumble in her ears.
“Alistair. We have history, and I want to know what you meant.”
“I was in the moment,” he said.
“So it was just a really good orgasm for you? That’s why you can’t live without me?”
“Fuck. Can this wait until we aren’t on the back of my bike?” he asked.
“No. I mean, you could refuse to talk to me, but right now, it’s all I can think about . What did Ali mean? Is he saying he wants to be back with me? Is he still leaving at the end of September?”
The bike accelerated down a straightaway, and she held him close, excited and also a tiny bit scared by the speed. When she squeezed him tighter, he slowly pulled to a stop. “I’m sorry.”
He put down the kickstand, and she hopped off the bike, not as gracefully as she’d hoped. She took off her helmet and handed it to him. “What was that?”
He shook his head as he leaned against his bike. Closing her eyes, she told herself this was a conversation that was too important for her to be distracted by the hard-to-read emotions on his face. “Me trying to outrun both of us and this conversation. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Well, you did. Does that happen a lot?” she asked, suddenly worrying that he was reckless when she wasn’t around. She wasn’t entirely sure he’d have stopped if she hadn’t been on the bike.
“Not recently.”
“Ali...”
He shoved his hands in his hair and leaned forward, over his legs. This man. Walking to him, she touched the back of his neck, and his arms snaked around her torso, pulling her into a hug and burying his head against her shoulder.
“I don’t know. That’s the answer to all those questions,” he muttered against her shoulder. “I just want to be with you for the rest of our lives. Do I have a plan? Nope.”
As he held her so tightly, those words settled into her heart and soul, making the joy she’d felt earlier bloom again. Warmth from the late summer evening wrapped around her, and inside, that small, cold part of her soul that had always felt alone wasn’t alone anymore.
“Promise?” she whispered.
He lifted his head, their eyes met. “On my very soul. I’m not kidding myself that this will be easy. I live in another country, and who knows how long it will take me to figure out how to move to this one. But I want that if you do.”
He’d move here. That was big. It was the kind of gesture she hadn’t believed him capable of making. “You won’t be Alistair Miller here. I’m mean, the one you are in England, where everyone knows who your family is and your money makes them want to be around you.”
“No great loss. That’s not me, moon fairy. So do you want to try to figure this out?”
As nice as this was making her feel, this was Ali. The only man she’d ever allowed herself to love. The one man that had taken every ounce she’d had to give and thrown it back in her face. The single man that had humbled himself, coming to her and asking for her help by offering her things that she hadn’t known she’d needed in return.
It was there right on the edges of her being, that love she’d never really lost. But this time, it was new. It felt solid and real and like it could last.
“Or we pretend I didn’t say anything and keep doing what we have been until I leave,” he said.
“I want to be with you too,” she said. “I’m not sure how it’s going to work. Can we take it slow?”
“I’ll take you anyway I can get you,” he said.
With that, her heart squeezed in agreement, and she looked up at the moon, silently thanking her.
Waking up alone in Poppy’s bed was becoming his best habit. It had been two weeks since the night he told her he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. Still, the words I love you were unspoken. He glanced at his phone and saw she’d left him a cute little video.
“Hey, sleepyhead. I have to get to work. Pickle’s been fed, so don’t let her con you into feeding her again.” She smiled at him on-screen. “I’m so tempted to crawl back into bed with you, but I’m already late, and Liberty and Sera will probably show up here to get me. See you tonight.”
Her video ended, and he rewatched it. He had the day off at the tavern so he’d offered to bottle their kombucha and send it to the other members of the Tea Society for tasting. So far, two other bottles from other members had arrived at Poppy’s house. His were being held at the tavern for him. Owen had declined to join the society, telling Alistair he wasn’t big into groups, which made sense. The man was on the quiet side. Even so, Ali was glad he’d invited him.
His phone rang and he glanced down to see that it was the tavern.
“Miller here.”
“Owen. A pipe burst in the basement, and dude, if you’re not doing anything, we could use some help moving everything up.”
“On my way.”
The basement was in bad shape, and Ali got right to work moving things up the stairs. There was a small area that they had been using as a beer garden for the summer, but now it would serve as storage for all the items from the basement. Everyone who worked for the Bootless Soldier had come in to help, and they were making quick work of the task.
As Ali worked side by side with everyone, he realized that this would never have happened at Lancaster-Spencer. He might have worked in each department at some point, but he never would have pitched in with the workers to do anything. There were days, or rather nights, like the one when a burst of anger had him speeding down the country roads in the UK to the point of a near collision, when he doubted that he’d really moved forward at all.
But the fact that he’d woken in Poppy’s bed that morning... Those were things the old Alistair wouldn’t have. He never could have conceived of the importance of moments like this. Being part of something bigger than himself.
The day was mercifully cool. Clouds covered the sky, and Lars and Owen were both praying it wouldn’t rain. Alistair realized his friends needed someone to manage this operation, and organizing was something he was damned good at.
He called Poppy to get the name of where they stored their excess stock.
“We use Hadley’s. Why?”
“Flooded basement at the tavern.”
“I’ll text you the number. It looks like rain,” she pointed out.
“Duh,” he teased, making her laugh.
“Merle isn’t working for me today. I’ll text him to come help. I have some space in my backroom. Tell Lars and Owen they are welcome to bring stuff down here,” she said.
“Oh that’d be great, thanks. I will.”
“No problem. Neighbors help each other,” she said. After she hung up, she texted him the number for Hadley’s.
About ten minutes later, Merle showed up. He wore a pair of basketball shorts and a gaming T-shirt with a cat on it.
The bed of Lars’s truck was already full of supplies, and Merle rode with Ali to Poppy’s to help unload. It made the most sense given he worked at Poppy’s shop and knew the layout. It was only later that Alistair recognized that he wasn’t jealous or angry about Merle’s presence. He just did what needed to be done.
They rented a space at Hadley’s and got them to send their driver with a moving van to collect the rest of the stuff from the basement. They were almost done when it started raining, but most of the fragile stuff, such as bar mats, napkins and paper straws, had already been moved to Poppy’s.
It was another two hours before they were all back at the tavern. The plumber had been called, and Lars was tending bar—bottles only, since the taps were serviced from the basement.
“What a fucking wild day,” Owen said. “Thanks for helping out.”
“No problem,” Ali said. “That’s what neighbors do.”
“Are you a neighbor now?” Owen asked.
“I’m thinking about being one. If the offer is still open for the Oktoberfest,” Ali said. His honesty and slip of the tongue with Poppy had made everything in his life so much clearer than it had been before. He wanted to be here.
He wanted to live in this small town, brewing his craft beer and working in the tavern up the street from Poppy’s WiCKed Sisters. It wasn’t the tabloid-worthy, society-soaked life he’d always had, but this felt right.
“It’s open. Lars and I have been talking about taking on a third partner...if you’re interested. Didn’t mean to spring that on you,” Owen said.
“I’m open to it. I think it might take some time to get a visa to live and work here, but I like the idea of working with the two of you.”
“We like it too,” Lars said. “The hope from my perspective is that Owen will take some real time off and maybe start having a life.”
Owen shot his brother the finger. “I have a life I like.”
Not that long ago, he wouldn’t have understood how Owen could be content, but now Ali sort of got it. There was a lot to be said for owning his own tavern, brewing his own beer and being his own boss.
It was so different from being a Miller at Lancaster-Spencer, where the board made all the decisions and tradition and legacy were the only masters they served. There was no place for growth or innovation. Two things he hadn’t realized were important until this summer.
These long summer days since the beginning of June, when he’d come here to find Poppy, had woven some magic around him. Truth was, Poppy was probably way more responsible for where he was in his life now.
Everything had changed when he signed those divorce papers.
The rain had slowed traffic in the store, and Sera and Liberty were sitting at one of the tables toward the front of the tea shop on either side of her. Poppy had used the last of her summer leaves and essences, adding vanilla, to make the blend that they were now sipping. “This reminds me of when Amber Rapp came in.”
“Me too,” Liberty admitted. “I was just thinking about that. How we were just being chill, living our lives. We were getting ready for Thanksgiving at Mom’s...”
“Little did we know our worlds were about to change,” Sera said.
“And kept changing,” Poppy said. Nothing had been the same since that day. Not that things would have stayed the same if Amber hadn’t come into the shop and found what she’d been searching for. Like Sera said, the magic had been in Amber before she entered. Just like the solid bond of friendship between the three of them would still be there without the success.
The door to the shop opened, and a couple walked in. Poppy blinked a few of times before realizing it was George—Alistair’s brother—and his wife.
“Hello, Poppy,” Bronte said, coming over to them. “I finally talked George into coming here.”
“I wasn’t reluctant to visit. Just had business to take care of,” George reminded her.
Poppy stood up and introduced everyone.
Bronte immediately asked Liberty to read her cards, which Liberty agreed to. They left, and Sera had a customer come in to collect some books they’d ordered. Leaving Poppy and George.
“Tea?” she asked.
“Thanks. I’ll have the Amber Rapp blend,” he said, following her to the counter.
It had been a few weeks since she’d signed the deal with Lancaster-Spencer, and she hadn’t heard anything from their side since. “Is there a problem with our deal?”
“Not at all. In fact, I brought the fully executed copy with me. Bronte has been wanting to come visit, and as she mentioned, I did promise. Thought it would be nice to give you this in person. I’m so glad you accepted our offer.”
“It felt right,” she admitted.
“I’m glad. Alistair told me how silenced you felt when you worked for Lancaster-Spencer. I’m sorry I didn’t pay better attention to how Dad was running things,” George said.
“Thanks. That wasn’t really your job,” she pointed out.
“No, it wasn’t. But it will be now. I’m going to be the CEO starting October 1.”
“Congratulations,” she said. She was hopeful that George would continue to make the changes he’d already started. Lancaster-Spencer had centuries of heritage behind it, and bringing the company into the twenty-first century would ensure that continued.
“Thanks,” he said.
A customer came in while George finished his tea, and when the customer left, he asked Poppy if she knew where Alistair was.
She directed him to the Bootless Soldier and assured him she’d make sure Bronte knew where he’d gone.
Bronte had Sera emboss her intention into the cover of the journal she’d purchased in Glastonbury from Solange’s shop. Then she settled next to Poppy to have a cup of tea.
“I hope I haven’t been too fan-girly today, but this is a dream come true,” she said.
“You’ve been fine. It’s good to see you again,” Poppy said.
“Same. I’ve been buzzing since George told me you signed with Lancaster-Spencer, but given that even the Earl of Winfield knew that it would be foolish not to do everything to get you to sign, I sort of figured it was a done deal.”
“Everything? I mean, the terms were pretty standard, and they had the offer from Willingham that they wanted to beat,” Poppy said.
“Of course, but it wasn’t just your contract they were after,” she said. “You know, Alistair’s been on a leave of absence, and nothing that George or Howard has offered has made him leave his little beer barn.”
Ali liked being in his beer barn. Also, there was something passive-aggressive about the way Bronte had put that. His beer was bigger than that and meant a lot to Ali. “I don’t think my contract is going to change that,” Poppy said at last.
Bronte sort of went pale and pursed her lips together. Then she looked down into her teacup, avoiding eye contact.
“Right?”
“Uh, sorry. I thought you knew. George said Alistair is staying at your place now,” Bronte said.
“Knew what?”
“I don’t know all of the details, but George mentioned before we left London that everything was in place. Howard’s retirement and your fair deal were the last things keeping Alistair from accepting the chief operations officer position. George has been monitoring him since the leave of absence.”
There was too much to process. Poppy’s ears were buzzing. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, after his break, everyone wasn’t sure he’d be able to come back. But the therapy and the extended time away from the office has finally been enough for HR to sign off on his return.”
“Bronte, you shouldn’t be talking to me about this,” Poppy said. This was all secondhand news. Nothing substantial. She found it hard to believe that Alistair wouldn’t have told her if he’d decided to go back to England. They’d made future plans.
“You’re right. I’m just so jazzed that we are going to be like real sisters when you both move back. Now that you’re not separated anymore.”
“We were never separated,” she said, stopping before telling the other woman they were actually divorced.
Bronte didn’t seem to realize that Poppy was upset, and there was a part of Poppy that wanted to tell Bronte they’d never be sisters. A sister would have noticed that Poppy was crumbling. Like Sera and Liberty, who’d moved closer to their table, both of them coming to support her without her asking.
Bronte keep drinking her tea as Poppy waved her friends away. There was nothing to discuss with Liberty and Sera until she had a talk with Ali, which would have to wait until the shop closed.