32. Wyatt
32
Wyatt
M y heart vaults into my throat when I spot my daughter waiting outside the house. I’ve spent the entire ride home ruminating on the secret we’re keeping from her, trying to figure out the best way to tell her, and it’s almost as if my thoughts have conjured her onto my doorstep.
I pull the bike up and shut off the engine, wondering how the hell I’m going to explain the fact that Poppy was out with me.
But before I get the chance, she leaps from the bike, yanking off her helmet and tugging Bailey into her arms.
“What are you doing here?” Poppy asks breathlessly, squeezing her tight.
“I’m here for a conference and wanted to surprise you guys.” Bailey releases Poppy. “I sent you a message,” she tells her, and Poppy frowns.
“When?”
“When I landed.”
“Weird,” Poppy says, rubbing her face. “I never got it.”
Bailey shrugs, looking over at me as I climb off the bike. “Wow, Dad. When was the last time you went out on that?”
I scrub a hand nervously over my beard. “It’s been a while.”
“I didn’t even know you rode it anymore.” Her gaze slides to Poppy, clad in motorcycle gear, and moves across her from head to toe in a way that makes my pulse surge.
“It was my idea,” Poppy says quickly. “I, uh, wanted to know what it was like to go out on a motorcycle, so I begged him to take me.” She gestures to her getup. “Look, I even bought all the proper gear.”
“Cool,” Bailey says quietly. She looks down at her bags sitting by her feet and shifts her weight, almost as if she feels like she’s intruding, and my heart plunges.
My daughter will always be welcome in my home—in her home.
It hits me just how difficult it’s going to be, juggling my relationship with Poppy while making sure Bailey doesn’t feel excluded, even if we do tell her. It’s going to change the entire dynamic of our relationship, and I really, really don’t want that.
But… there’s no way I’m giving up what I have with Poppy. Not after she confessed she wants the future I want. Not knowing we have everything we want within our grasp.
I sigh, motioning to the door. “Come inside, kiddo.”
Bailey frowns at my indifferent response, and I check myself, pulling her into a hug.
“It’s good to see you,” I add, but it sounds like an afterthought, even to my own ears.
“If this isn’t a good time…” she begins, but Poppy picks up her bag with a smile.
“It’s a great time. Right, Wyatt?”
My stomach drops. Is she going to tell Bailey now? Surely she wouldn’t do that when we haven’t even discussed it?
But she shoots me a look that somehow communicates don’t worry, I’m not going to say anything , and I exhale slowly. Of course she wouldn’t.
“It’s always a great time, honey.” I smile at my daughter, feeling myself relax. Because I mean it—I always want to see her. “Come inside and we’ll make some dinner.”
“By we , he means me,” Poppy says, laughing as she opens the front door with her key and lets us into the house. I’m relieved when Bailey laughs.
“Well, you are the better cook,” she agrees.
“Hey,” I protest fruitlessly, tugging off my jacket.
I mean, obviously Poppy is the better cook. But I suddenly want nothing more than to cook for my daughter, and for the woman who has spent countless hours cooking for me. Besides, if she puts on that apron, I can’t say what I’ll do.
“I’m going to cook tonight,” I say firmly, and Poppy’s eyebrows rise as she shrugs out of her leather jacket. “You know I can cook, right?” I add, trying to bite back the playful smile that tugs at my mouth. Now is not the time to flirt with her.
“I had no idea,” she says, folding in her lips to hide her smile and turning to pet Sugar. It seems I’m not the only one struggling to act normal.
“Oh, this must be Sugar!” Bailey grins when the cat winds around her ankles. She mewls as Bailey pets her, lapping up the attention. Then my daughter’s gaze lifts to me. “You know, I really couldn’t imagine you with a kitten, Dad.”
“You should see them together.” Poppy scoops up Sugar and places her on my shoulder, where she drapes herself lazily. “Aren’t they cute?”
My gaze darts to Poppy, gazing at us adoringly. She probably shouldn’t call me cute in front of Bailey.
Thankfully, Bailey doesn’t notice, instead coming to pet the cat where she sits on me. “So cute.” She examines me closely. “How are you, Dad?”
I swallow, refusing to let my gaze stray to Poppy where she sits at the breakfast bar, even though that’s all I want to do. Because I am over-the-moon happy after our conversation at Jones Beach. I’m so full of love and excitement for what our future holds. We just need to get this pesky issue of telling Bailey out the way.
“Good,” I say, clearing my throat roughly. “Work’s good.”
She nods, still eying me. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what Poppy asked me in Napa Valley, about you meeting someone.”
My pulse spikes, and my gaze flicks to Poppy before I can stop it, but I quickly yank it away, turning to bury my head in the pantry as I think about dinner. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah.” Bailey doesn’t move from her spot in the kitchen. “And I think it would be really great if you did.”
“You do?”
“I do. I hate thinking of you all alone here. Well, not alone”—she looks at Poppy and smiles—“but you know what I mean. I want you to be happy.”
I turn back to look at her. “I am happy, honey.” I can’t help it—I glance at Poppy again, and my mouth tugs into a smile. Should I tell her? I try to transmit telepathically across the kitchen, and Poppy lifts a shoulder.
What the hell does that mean?
Bailey’s eyes narrow as they assess me closely. “Wait. Have you met someone?”
“I…” I take in my daughter’s hopeful expression, and know that no matter what, I can’t lie to her face. I won’t. “I have.”
But when I look back at Poppy, her eyes widen in panic.
Shit. I definitely need to talk to her before we have this conversation.
“What?!” Bailey claps her hands together in delight, glancing at Poppy. “Did you know about this?”
“Um…” Poppy shifts in her seat, looking uncomfortable. “I did.”
Bailey laughs. “Ugh, you two, keeping secrets!”
I wince, looking away. She has no idea.
“Well, tell me about her,” she says, pinching me lightly on the arm. “I want to meet her.” She looks at Poppy again. “Have you met her? Would I like her?”
Christ, this is getting out of hand.
“I… think you’d like her, yes,” Poppy says carefully.
Bailey looks back at me. “What’s she like, Dad?”
I pull three bottles of homemade lemonade from the fridge—I made a huge batch with Marty’s lemons last week—and pop the tops, buying time as I hand one to Bailey and one to Poppy, then take a long swig. Eventually, my daughter’s expectant face gets the better of me, and I sigh.
“She’s great,” I say at last, avoiding Poppy’s gaze. “Smart, funny, beautiful, and truly one of the strongest people I’ve ever met.” Crap, that might be a little too close to home. “She sees the good in me and pushes me to do the things that make me happy.”
Bailey grins. “Have you two…” she begins, then rolls her hand, and I stare at her, wondering if she’s actually asking me what I think she is.
“Jesus, Bailey.”
“What?” She laughs, looking to Poppy, then back to me with a shrug. “I just want to know if I can expect to become a big sister anytime soon.”
Huh. I’d never considered how she’d feel in that role.
“Would you like to be a big sister?” I venture cautiously.
“Uh, yes!” She bounces excitedly on her toes. “That would be so cool!” Her head tilts as she regards me closely again, softening. “You’re really serious about this woman, aren’t you?”
Don’t look at Poppy. Do not look at Poppy.
“I am.” I force my gaze to my lemonade, twirling it absently in my hand as I think back to Poppy’s words on the beach this afternoon. I know what I want, and that’s you. I want a life with you. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. My throat grows tight as I realize for the millionth time how fucking lucky I am.
“Wow,” Bailey whispers, reaching out to squeeze my shoulder—the one that isn’t occupied by the cat. “I’ve never seen you like this, Dad.”
When I sneak a glance at Poppy, she’s gazing at me with love, one hand on her heart, her eyes shining. God, I need to be alone with her. We need to talk this through so we can tell Bailey and get our relationship out in the open, where it belongs. So I can make her my wife, so we can start our life together, properly.
But when Bailey turns to Poppy and asks, “Are you still doing the marketing business?” I know that won’t be happening any time soon.
Poppy grimaces. “No. Honestly, I don’t think it was the right fit for me. You’re welcome to take it over if you want, otherwise I think I’ll take the website and socials down.”
Bailey considers this, then shakes her head. “I don’t think I can manage it with work, so… yeah, maybe closing it down is for the best.” She drops her gaze to her lemonade, looking wistful, before focusing back on Poppy. “So you’re all in on the catering business, then? Is it going well?”
“The crew loves her food.” I can’t stop the pride from creeping into my voice, and Poppy’s cheeks stain pink.
“Well, duh,” Bailey says, laughing. “Who wouldn’t? Did you find a commercial kitchen?”
Poppy’s gaze flits to mine. “Yes, I did. And it’s perfect.”
I have to turn away to hide my smile.
“Great! How’d you find it?” Bailey asks.
“What do you want for dinner, kiddo?” I ask, hoping to distract her. I know she’s only showing an interest in our lives, but part of me wishes my daughter would stop with the twenty questions already.
“Whatever, I don’t mind.” Then she looks back at Poppy, waiting.
“Uh… I found it thanks to your dad,” Poppy says, and I realize she’s trying to walk the same fine line as me—giving away as little as possible without lying.
“Aw, Dad.” Bailey shoots me a sweet smile. “That’s so nice.”
“Happy to help,” I mumble, as I pull out the ingredients to make pasta. Bailey opens her mouth as if to say something more, and I decide to take charge of the situation, asking her, “Where do you want to sleep, honey?” Poppy hasn’t been in Bailey’s room for a month now, but she’ll have to sleep in there tonight so it doesn’t look suspicious.
Thankfully, Poppy picks up on this. “You’ll sleep in your old room with me, right? We’ll have a slumber party, like old times.”
Bailey grins. “Sounds fun.”
Poppy rises from the stool with a smile. “Great. I’ll take your bags up and get the room ready while you catch up with your dad.”
“There’s an air mattress in the hall closet,” I call as she heads upstairs. I breathe out once it’s just me and Bailey in the room, taking Sugar from my shoulders and placing her on the floor. “How are you, kiddo?”
She leans against the counter, draining her lemonade. “I’m really good. Work has been amazing. Busy, but so good.” She watches as Sugar pounces on her ball in the living room. “They chose me out of like five other people to fly out for our firm at the conference this weekend.”
I hook an arm around her shoulders and squeeze. “Proud of you, honey.”
“Uh, Wyatt?” Poppy calls from the top of the stairs. “I can’t find the air mattress.”
I chuckle. “Back in a sec,” I say to Bailey, ascending the stairs. Poppy stands at the hall closet, her back to me as she hunts through the linen, old camping gear, and Christmas decorations stuffed into a box.
“Sorry,” she murmurs as I approach. “I looked, but…”
“Shh.” It’s a relief to have a moment alone with her, and I reach above her head to retrieve the air mattress, letting my front meet flush against her back. She sighs, leaning into me, and I can’t resist the urge to drop my nose into her hair, breathing in her sweet, peachy smell. I can hear Bailey playing with Sugar downstairs, and despite knowing it’s a bad idea, I just need a few more minutes alone with Poppy.
“Let me set this up for you.” I carry it into her room and she follows, hovering by the door while I plug in the self-inflating bed, letting it fill with air. I stride across the room and, after checking Bailey is still downstairs, nudge the door shut. “Come here,” I say roughly, hauling her into my arms.
Her lips meet mine instantly, her body soft and pliant in my arms as we steal a moment together. She whimpers against me, threading her fingers into my hair, suggesting she needed this as much as me.
“I had to kiss you,” I rasp, savoring the warmth of her skin under my palms, knowing I won’t get to feel that for God knows how long now. And while I should probably use this time to talk to her about telling Bailey, the topic feels far too huge to wedge into a few rushed seconds.
“The things you said downstairs,” Poppy breathes, fingertips soft on the back of my neck. “They were so lovely. It was a struggle not to kiss you right there.”
I take her mouth again, pressing her to the back of the door as my cock stiffens in my jeans, even though I know we can’t do anything. I can’t help myself. I can’t stop myself from being close to her, touching her, tasting her.
“Baby, I need—”
“Guys?” Bailey’s voice sounds from the hall and I lurch back from Poppy, adjusting the front of my jeans as I turn back to the air mattress.
“There’s a spare pillow in the hall closet too,” I say, doing my best to sound natural, despite my spiraling pulse.
“Sure thing,” Poppy squeaks, then heads back into the hall. “Just getting you a pillow,” she mumbles to Bailey on the landing.
Bailey appears in the doorway, her brow knitted. “Everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine,” Poppy says, bustling back into the room with a pillow.
“Why was the door shut?”
Oh, God.
My pulse goes haywire and I suck in a breath. “Uh…”
“I thought the noise of the air mattress inflating might scare Sugar,” Poppy says, not meeting Bailey’s gaze as she tucks sheets onto the mattress. “I’ll sleep on here.”
Thankfully, that seems to be enough to distract Bailey.
“What? No way,” she protests, but Poppy stands firm.
“It’s your bed, Bailey, and you’ve had a long flight. No arguments.”
Bailey lifts her hands. “Okay, okay.”
Slowly, I let my lungs deflate. The three of us stand in the room, looking at each other, and the air grows so thick I’m sure Bailey can feel it. What on earth was I thinking, kissing Poppy? It’s too risky. Even being in the house with her while Bailey is here feels too risky right now.
“You know what?” I push my mouth into a smile. “Let’s eat out tonight. My treat.”
Bailey shrugs. “Sure, sounds good.”
Poppy breaks the tension by shooting me a teasing smile. “I knew you couldn’t cook.”
Bailey laughs, and I join her, letting it shake the tightness from my shoulders as we all head downstairs.
I just have to relax, I tell myself, and everything will be okay.
It has to be.