Chapter 16 #3
Andrew’s words cut me as I look at Poppy. She eyes me with a sad look that hurts my insides. All of the sudden, this feels like the worst kind of betrayal. She doesn’t belong with this prat. She doesn’t need him for comfort and protecting. I should be Poppy’s safe place. Her shoulder to cry on.
“Do you want to talk?” I ask, my voice shaky.
“No, Booker. I don’t want to talk. I’m having a lovely time with Andrew, and I’d appreciate it if you’d go back to Sidney and leave us alone.” Her voice is acerbic and flat. Nothing like how she usually talks to me.
“It’s time!” Indie’s voice calls as she hustles out onto the pitch with Tanner hot on her heels. “Everyone take your seats!”
My eyes reluctantly pull from Poppy as she walks away with Andrew. I turn to see Tanner striding toward me. He’s dressed in a slim grey suit with a black tie. His long hair is down, nearly to his shoulders, and his beard is trim. He looks like a proper grown up.
His smile is beaming as he looks at me. “You look like shit.”
I school myself to smile back at him. “It’s nothing.”
“Good because nothing can get me down today, baby bro. My future wife is fucking incredible.” He wraps his arms around me and pats my back with a hearty hug.
I can’t help but laugh. “Because she agreed to marry you?”
He shakes his head. “She went into the hospital early this morning, saved a twenty-nine-week-old foetus, and she’s back there looking more fucking beautiful than the day I fell in love with her.” His happiness is boiling over.
I clench my teeth and smile. “I’m happy for you.”
“Let’s get married,” he says and gives me a shove toward the makeshift altar.
I rejoin Sidney while Poppy and Andrew sit on the other side of the aisle directly across from us. She continues to avoid my gaze as the preacher asks us all to rise.
The guitar duo’s amp erupts into a stunning instrumental version of U2’s, “With or Without You.” The music swells, their rhythmic strumming echoing off the empty seats of Tower Park. Goosebumps crawl up the back of my neck.
When the male’s voice begins crooning, Belle appears from the tunnel.
She’s dressed in a red floor-length gown, her long dark hair swept off to one side.
She looks beautiful, but she’s just standing there crying.
Full on crying so hard that she’s stuck in her tracks, trying to collect herself enough to move.
Indie rushes toward her, and I glance back at Tanner, whose face is contorted with emotion.
But he remains firmly in place at the altar, stoic as he can be with tears streaming down his face.
Indie reaches Belle and nods at her in encouragement. The two share a quiet word and then Belle grabs Indie’s hand. They walk the rest of the way together. Strong. Loving. A friend giving away a friend.
When they pass by me, my eyes find Poppy, who’s no longer avoiding my gaze. She’s looking at me, her eyes pools of tears as she watches me with a sombre expression. Andrew whispers in her ear and then takes her hand in his, squeezing.
She shouldn’t be with him.
She should be with me.
She should be in the chair beside me.
She should be holding my hand.
She should be mine.
And that thought terrifies me.
The preacher says some words. Belle cries some more. Tanner wipes her tears. They exchange vows. They make promises. They put rings on each other’s fingers.
And then…they kiss.
Music erupts. Hugs are exchanged. Congratulations are given. And I’m just floating around all of it, trying not to get too close. If I give way to what I’m feeling, there’s no telling what might happen.
After the service, the photographer takes clusters of people away for more photos while the rest of us congregate at the bar. Sidney is latched onto my arm, but I’m so far inside my head, I don’t even know if I’m responding to her at this point.
A glass of red wine is shoved into my hand and then Sidney drags me over to the table where Poppy and Andrew are sitting. Poppy looks better now. No longer emotional. Her eyes are narrowed on Sidney as we approach.
“Poppy McAdams, how are you?” Sidney peals and reaches out to hug her. “Or do you have a new last name?” Sidney looks over at Andrew. “Are you Poppy’s husband or…?”
Hearing the word husband attached to Poppy has me grinding my teeth.
“Friend,” I bark out, though I’m not convinced he deserves that title.
Poppy eyes me. “Date,” she deadpans and then turns to smile sweetly at Sidney. “This is Andrew William. Andrew, this is Sidney Carmichael.”
Sidney’s smile is tight. “Nice to meet you.” She diverts her eyes back to Poppy. “It’s been years, Poppy! I hardly recognised you with that interesting haircut. What brings you back to London? Last I heard, you were living in Germany.”
“I got a job teaching German to Year 7’s in Hoxton,” Poppy answers, sipping her wine.
“Oh, how exciting!” Sidney exclaims, folding her hands on the table. “And where are you living?”
Poppy lets out a loud laugh and then looks at me with wide, blinking eyes. “Booker didn’t mention that I’m his flatmate?” She continues to laugh like it’s the funniest thing in the universe.
Sidney looks as though she’s been slapped. Smiling around the rim of her wine glass, she replies, “No, it didn’t come up. We’ve been busy catching up. It’s been a few months since I saw him last.”
“Nutty, Booker! Always so forgetful,” Poppy sings, rolling her wine glass between her hands and eyeing Sidney speculatively. “You guys see a lot of each other then?”
Sidney leans her head on my shoulder and it makes me fidgety. “Booker likes to take me to his charity events and football functions. It’s nice to have a real friend along for those obligations that can otherwise be rather dull.”
Poppy sneers, “How lovely that you guys are so close that you can save him like that.”
“Poppy—” I begin to explain, but Sidney cuts me off.
“How long have you two been together?” She points between Andrew and Poppy.
“It’s new,” Andrew answers in his dumb Scottish lilt, snaking a possessive arm around Poppy’s waist. “But it seems promising. I get tae watch her gym sesh nearly every day, so there’s no much of her I dinnae ken.” He growls and playfully nips at Poppy’s shoulder.
It makes Poppy giggle.
I hate him. I want him gone.
“You think ogling at her like a peeping Tom as she runs on a treadmill equates to knowing her?” My voice is deep and authoritative as my posture straightens.
“Booker—” Poppy snaps, but Andrew holds a hand up to her.
“Shhh,” he says to Poppy. “I got this.”
“Don’t tell her to be quiet,” I growl through clenched teeth.
“Dinnae worry aboot her, mate!” he exclaims, moving away from the table to come at me.
I step forward just as Camden barrels in between us and throws his arm around my shoulder. “Booker! We need you for a family photo!” His voice is jovial, but I’m still seeing fucking red.
Andrew huffs out a laugh as I am all but dragged away by my brother.