34. Wyatt
34
Wyatt
I knock on my neighbor’s front door with a bottle of wine in hand. At my side, Poppy holds a lemon cake she whipped up this afternoon with some of Marty’s lemons. She sends me a nervous smile, and I resist the urge to pull her close and kiss her. Not on the doorstep, in case Bailey can see.
That isn’t likely, though. She was out at her conference all day, while Poppy and I spent hours psyching ourselves up to speak to her tonight. Then she texted me a little after lunch to say she’d be out at a dinner thing until late, which was both frustrating and a relief. And when Poppy got a text from Daisy inviting us to dinner, there was no reason not to go. It was either that, or pace nervously around my place all evening, waiting for Bailey to return.
“You sure you’re not mad that I told Daisy?” Poppy asks, and I smile.
“Of course not, baby. It’s not like she’s going to tell Bailey. I don’t think they’ve ever even spoken.”
“Still…”
I glance back over my shoulder, checking the coast is clear, then drop a quick kiss to her head. “Stop worrying. Maybe she and Wes can give us some advice. I think they were in a pretty similar situation. Actually, so were Violet and Kyle, now that I think about it—”
“Wyatt!”
The front door swings open and Weston stands there, smiling. He looks good for 45, his wavy chestnut hair laced with silver, jaw sporting a short beard in a lighter shade. Despite going through an incredibly rough time during the past few years, there’s a light in his blue eyes as he sticks out his hand to give mine a hearty pump. I guess falling in love—and having shitloads of sex—with a younger woman will do that for a man.
I should know.
“Wes, good to see you.” I clap him on the back, then motion beside me.
“This is Poppy.”
Weston shakes Poppy’s hand, eyes twinkling. “Daisy has told me all about you. Come in.”
I motion for her to enter first, then follow behind, closing the door. We head through to the kitchen, which is gleaming with chrome appliances, the walls lined with glossy white cabinets. Wes’s place is entirely modern, unlike our other neighbor, Kyle’s, which he painstakingly restored to its original historical features. Clustered around the huge marble island in the center, sit Kyle, Violet, and Daisy, sipping drinks.
“You’re here!” Daisy springs up from the island to pull Poppy into a hug. The sight makes me smile as I think back to Poppy’s worries that Daisy wouldn’t want to see her after what happened at Joe’s. Who couldn’t love Poppy?
Actually, I know exactly who. I have to push the thought of that asshole from my mind before it ruins my evening.
“What’s this?” Daisy asks, eying the cake in Poppy’s hand.
“Dessert.” Poppy sets the cake down on the marble counter. “I hope everyone likes lemon cake.”
“Love it,” Wes says, sharing a little smile with Daisy.
She turns to me, pressing a kiss to my cheek. “I’m so glad you could come. I know it’s kind of last minute.”
“We’re glad to be here.” I hold out the bottle of wine, which she gratefully accepts. What I don’t say is that it’s the perfect distraction from fretting over how we’re going to tell my daughter about us. Poppy would have buried the kitchen in stress cookies if we’d had to spend much more time at home waiting for Bailey.
“Wyatt.” Kyle comes over to shake my hand. “It’s been too long,” he says, his green eyes creasing in a smile. He scrubs a hand over his salt-and-pepper beard in thought. “Haven’t seen you since the wedding, is that right?”
“That’s right,” I say, nodding.
“Definitely too long.” Violet pushes up onto her toes to kiss me briefly on the cheek. “It’s so good to see you.” Her brown eyes swing to Poppy, and she gives me a knowing smile. It’s a fight not to grin back in response.
Daisy takes care of the introductions between Poppy, Violet, and Kyle, then asks, “What would you guys like to drink?”
“Any kind of beer is fine by me,” I say.
“White wine, if you have it,” Poppy asks politely.
Daisy sets about getting our drinks while Wes grabs a tray of steaks from the fridge, then turns to me. “Vegetarian, right?” he asks, taking a separate tray of skewers filled with chunks of portobello mushroom, bell pepper, and eggplant.
“Yes, thanks,” I say, grateful he remembered.
Wes motions downstairs. “Now that we’re all here, let’s head out to the yard and I’ll fire up the grill.”
We file downstairs into the spacious den, set up with a plush sectional sofa and projector facing a large screen and stereo system. Passing through, we head into the yard, where the sun casts a warm golden glow over the space, and I smile, pleased to see my hard work is being taken care of. My company landscaped Weston’s backyard a few years back in a modern design, featuring clean lines and symmetrical planter boxes to create a sense of order, and it’s obviously been well-maintained.
“Have a seat,” Wes says, gesturing to the outdoor table and chairs on the stone patio, setting the plates of food aside. He turns to the grill, firing it up and letting it warm. I’m pleased we’re eating outdoors. Now that it’s late September, we won’t have many more warm evenings like this.
Daisy appears a moment later with our drinks. Then she pauses, holding her own glass of red wine high in a toast. “To neighbors and friends,” she says, and we all clink glasses.
Poppy settles in at the table and I take a seat beside her, unable to resist sliding my palm into hers. I figure they know about us anyway, so what’s the point in trying to hide it? She sends me a warm smile over her glass, squeezing my hand.
Violet glances between Poppy and Daisy. “So, how did you two meet? I mean, I know you live next door, but that’s not how you met, right?”
Daisy laughs. “No. We met when Poppy worked at Joe’s.”
Violet’s brow crinkles. “You worked at Joe’s?” she asks Poppy around a sip of wine. “When? I swear I would have remembered you.”
Poppy grimaces beside me, and I brush my thumb across the back of her hand.
“I only worked there for a week. My ex…” she trails off, two dots of pink on her cheeks. Despite myself, anger over the injustice of the situation rushes through me, and I open my mouth to finish the sentence for her, when Daisy pipes up.
“Her ex tricked Dave into firing her.”
Kyle glances between the women, his brow furrowed. “How?”
Poppy sighs, explaining the whole sorry fiasco with a red face, and Violet’s expression darkens.
“Are you fucking kidding me? What an asshole.”
“Thank you,” I mutter. “He’s a piece of work. The prick had the audacity to show up at the house and lie to me about being Poppy’s boyfriend.”
Violet’s mouth hangs open in shock. “No way.”
“Yep.” I clench my hand around my bottle of Miller. “That’s not even the worst of it,” I add, then stop myself. Poppy probably doesn’t want me to blurt out every awful thing Kurt’s done, even if I want to scream it from the rooftops in rage.
“Did you try explaining to your boss?” Wes asks from where he stands at the grill, but Poppy shakes her head.
“He was flustered by the whole thing, to be honest. Was worried Kurt would go to social media and ruin his business.” She straightens in her seat, lifting her chin. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I’m starting my own catering business.” Her gaze slides to mine, warm and grateful, and I can’t hold back anymore. I lean in, kissing her right on the mouth.
“She is,” I say proudly, “and it’s going to be epic. Which reminds me…” I glance back at Kyle and Violet. “Poppy currently caters lunches for my crew, and they love it. I was wondering if your crew might be interested, too. There’s a rotating menu, a set price, and I can tell you it is hands down the best food I’ve ever eaten.”
Kyle’s eyebrows rise. “Count me in.”
“Me too,” Violet says instantly. “I’m sick of eating pizza and whatever crap we can find at the last minute. I’m sure the crew will be on board, too,” she adds with a wide smile. “Can you email me a sample menu and other details? I’ll get it out to the crew first thing tomorrow.”
“Definitely.” Poppy beams, and I lift her hand to my lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it. I’ve never been more proud of her.
“Food won’t be long,” Wes calls from the grill, and Daisy rises from the table.
“I’ll just pop up to grab the sides.”
“We can help,” Poppy says, and Violet nods, rising too.
The women disappear upstairs, and I lean back in my chair, exhaling slowly, gazing up at the apricot cloud-streaked sky. Wes switches off the grill, setting the meat aside to rest.
“Poppy seems great,” he says, coming to sit beside me.
“She is.”
“She’s Bailey’s friend, right?” Kyle asks across the table, but there’s no judgment in his tone. Actually, how does he know that? I shoot him a questioning glance, and he chuckles. “Women love to talk.”
I give a low laugh, taking a swig of my beer. “Yeah, she is. I tried not to let it happen, but…” I shake my head, gazing at my two neighbors. I might not spend as much time with these guys as I’d like, but knowing how they each met their partners, I feel like I can be open. “Honestly, she’s the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. I think… I’m going to ask her to marry me.”
“Whoa.” Wes clinks his bottle to mine, grinning. “That’s awesome.”
Kyle nods, reaching across the table to shake my hand. “Congrats, man.” His mouth hooks into a sly grin. “You’re going to love married life.”
I chuckle. “Thanks. We just have to tell my daughter.”
“Ah.” Wes nods in understanding. “Well, my advice is to do it sooner rather than later. The longer you leave it, the worse it gets.”
“Agreed,” Kyle says solemnly. “It’s never fun having to tell someone who’s completely clueless as to what’s going on, but in my experience, they usually come around once they see how happy you are.”
Wes gives me a wry smile. “And you look pretty damn happy.”
I laugh, if only to disguise the anxiety needling me. It’s been a while since Poppy and I officially got together. Have we waited too long? I think about the future I want with her in that big house, and an idea sprouts in my mind.
“I might have some work for you,” I say to Kyle. His eyebrows lift in interest. “You know that big brownstone across the street at number seven?”
Kyle nods, and Wes says, “That place is beautiful.”
“It is. And the man who used to live there recently left it to me.”
“Shit,” Kyle murmurs in disbelief. “Lucky you.”
“Very lucky,” I agree. “It needs a little work on the upper floors, though. Any chance your crew might free up soon?”
“I’ll have to check with Violet. She runs our schedule.”
“Of course.” I nod. “Let me know.”
“Will do.” He rakes a hand through his dark hair. We sit in silence for a few moments, sipping our beer, listening to the sound of a siren wailing somewhere in the distance. Then Kyle says, “That’s wild about Poppy’s ex. That guy sounds like he could stand to be taken down a notch.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” I grit out, unable to hold back as the mention of Kurt stirs anger inside me again. “He emotionally abused her for years, then stole thousands of dollars from her.”
“Jesus.” Wes’s brow creases. “That’s awful. What an absolute dirtbag.”
I blow out a heavy breath, trying to calm down. “Honestly, it’s taken all my energy not to track him down and do something I shouldn’t,” I mutter, as the women reappear on the patio, arms laden with salads and side dishes.
“Track who down?” Violet asks, setting a bowl of potato salad onto the table.
“Poppy’s ex.” Kyle shoots Poppy a sympathetic look.
“You should.” Violet looks at me suddenly, her eyes lighting with vengeful glee. “There must be a way we can make him pay for the trouble he’s caused her.”
“I’ve thought about that too,” Daisy says, as Wes stands to dish up the meat and my veggies. She turns to Poppy. “What does he care about more than anything?”
Poppy snorts into her glass of wine. “Himself.” She thinks for a second, then adds, “His job. He’s always bragging about how he’ll make partner at a big Manhattan advertising agency, but it never happens. It’s all to make himself look good.”
“Perfect,” Violet says fiercely. “So we figure out a way for him to lose his job.”
“Yes.” I clink my bottle to her wineglass, finally glad to have someone on board with seeking revenge on Kurt. “I like the sound of that. Show him how it feels.”
“But how?” Daisy muses, spooning pasta salad onto Wes’s plate. “What would make him lose his job?”
Violet turns to Poppy, the cogs spinning visibly in her head. “Is he sleazy? Like, the kind of guy who thinks he can have whoever he wants?”
“Definitely.”
I scowl. “If you ask me, he thinks he’s fucking invincible. Lying to my face about being her boyfriend, lying to her boss…”
“That works in our favor,” Violet says, as Kyle quietly fills her plate without her noticing. “We could catch him in a compromising position, then use that to get him fired.”
“He’s good, though,” Poppy admits, her shoulders slumping. “He might be a nightmare, but he’s not stupid. You wouldn’t believe the things he’s gotten away with.”
Violet smirks. “All men are stupid when they’re thinking with their dicks.” She touches a hand to Kyle’s arm as he regards her with amusement, adding, “Sorry, honey, but it’s true.”
Kyle chuffs a wry laugh. “Hey, I’m not arguing.”
“What do you mean?” Daisy asks Violet, scrunching her nose in confusion. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking one of us lures him into a compromising position, one where he blatantly goes against one of his company policies or does something so shocking they’d have no choice but to fire him. We’d record it somehow, then show it to his boss.”
Poppy blinks. “Seriously?”
“Seriously,” Violet echoes, her face severe.
“Well, it can’t be me.” Daisy shrugs. “I don’t think I could pull that off, for one, and there’s a chance he’s seen me at Joe’s, since he’s been hanging around there.”
“Hmm.” Violet rubs her chin, glancing at Poppy. “Does he like blonds?” she asks, motioning to her own mid-length wavy blond hair.
Poppy grimaces. “Yes. But I couldn’t ask you to—”
“Girl.” Violet reaches across the table, taking both of Poppy’s hands in hers. “It would be my pleasure. I’ve worked around enough douchey execs who need to be put in their place. Let me do the honors.”
Poppy huffs a laugh, looking down at her food as Violet releases her hands. “That’s so nice. But… I don’t think it’s a good idea. If I do something like that, he’ll make my life hell.”
“Not if I have anything to do with it,” I mutter, but she shakes her head.
“You guys are the best, really, but… let’s just forget it.”
There it is again. The thing she told me after he cost her the job at Joe’s. Let’s just forget it . Why? How many times do we have to forget it? How many times do we let him get away with the stunts he pulls?
I want to press her on this, but she starts eating, her shoulders tight, and it’s a sign for me to let it go. This isn’t my fight, it’s hers. I have to respect her wishes.
Violet sends me a questioning glance silently across the table, but I shake my head. With a deep frown, she picks up her fork, clearly as irritated by this as I am. I have to admit, it’s nice not to be alone in that feeling.
But we have bigger things to worry about, I remind myself as I tuck into my food. Like how I’m going to tell my daughter I’m in love with her best friend.