35. Poppy
35
Poppy
W e wait up until midnight for Bailey to come home after dinner at Daisy’s house, but there’s no sign of her. It’s not until I go to our room to change that I notice her stuff is gone, and nerves swoop through me as I sink onto the edge of her bed, wondering why, if she somehow figured it out. It’s very out of character for her to leave without saying goodbye.
Taking a fortifying breath, I pull my phone from my pocket and message her.
Poppy: Where are you?
Her status changes to Online , then the little dots appear to show she’s replying, and I suck in an anxious breath. The dots vanish. I exhale slowly, wondering if I should call her, when her reply comes in.
Bailey: At the airport.
Shit. That’s not good.
Poppy: Why?
Bailey: Waiting on a flight.
Waiting on a flight? What does that mean? Is she there for her original flight, or trying to get on an earlier one? If that wasn’t enough to make me wonder, the briefness of her replies is. She never responds like that. It’s usually long wordy messages, filled with emojis, ending with “Love you, hon.”
I swallow, typing out another message with trembling hands, not sure if I really want to know the answer.
Poppy: Why didn’t you say goodbye?
The dots appear and vanish, appear and vanish, while my stomach ties itself in knots. Please , I beg the universe silently, please tell me she hasn’t discovered me and Wyatt .
But when her reply comes through, my stomach plunges right through the floor.
Bailey: Figured you’d be too busy with my dad to notice.
Fuck. She knows. But how?
I begin to type out a reply when another message comes through.
Bailey: Is it true?
I swallow, trying to stop myself from spiraling as adrenaline floods me. Maybe she’s talking about something else. Maybe I’m imagining this whole thing.
Poppy: What do you mean?
Bailey: I mean, I got a message telling me you’re sleeping with my dad, Poppy.
My mind whirls. A message ? Who would message her about that? I quickly run through everyone at dinner tonight, but I know they wouldn’t have messaged Bailey. They don’t even have her number.
Poppy: From who?
It’s unfair to ask this instead of addressing the real issue, but I need to know. I’m grateful that instead of pressing for me to admit it, she answers my question.
Bailey: An unknown number.
Unknown… What?
Bailey: They sent a picture, too.
I bolt from the bed, pacing the room as my heart jams in my throat. A picture? How ?
Poppy: Can you send me a screenshot, please?
She has every right to tell me to fuck off , if what she’s saying is true. I’m sure I would. But a moment later, a screenshot comes through. And when I see it, my stomach lurches. It’s the picture of me and Wyatt at Jones Beach, the one where I’m licking my ice cream and he’s kissing my cheek. Underneath, a simple message:
Unknown: Thought you should know that Poppy is fucking your dad.
God. I’m going to be sick.
I scrutinize the image, the words, my head a cyclone of confusion, my pulse whipping through me. That picture has never left my phone. I didn’t even send it to Wyatt. So how did someone get hold of it?
I reread the sender of both the image and the message— Unknown —and something clicks in my brain. That call I got a while back, the one from an unknown number that said nothing. The apps moving on my phone. The message from Bailey that I never read.
Is it possible that someone hacked my phone?
The moment the thought materializes, I know who’s responsible. It’s almost laughable I didn’t figure it out sooner.
Rage boils through me, hot and urgent, making my body shake. How dare Kurt do this? How dare he hack into my phone and try to destroy my relationship with Bailey? We were about to tell her. We had a plan.
And this time, I decide, Kurt has gone too far.
Too. Fucking. Far.
I glance at my phone, thoughts swirling as I try to think of how to reply. There’s no point in denying it—she’s got the evidence right there. She knows.
Sucking in a breath, I type out a reply.
Poppy: I’m so sorry. We were going to tell you tonight.
I send off the message, thinking I’m done, then more words spill out of me, my fingers flying across the screen without my permission.
Poppy: And it’s not about sex. We’re in love and we’re really happy. We want a future together.
Then I set my phone down on the bed before I can say anything more. Anything that might make the situation worse.
But it buzzes immediately with a reply, and I snatch it up.
Bailey: Thanks for confirming it. I’ve got to go.
Poppy: Can I call you? Or you could come back to the house and we can talk about it?
Bailey: Flight’s boarding. Sorry.
Then her status changes: Offline . My eyes sting as I hold my phone to my chest, so many emotions churning through me that I don’t even know what to think.
Kurt hacked my phone.
Bailey knows.
And Wyatt will be furious.
Wyatt
When Poppy comes into my room, I’m sitting on the edge of my bed, absently stroking Sugar. I haven’t changed from the T-shirt and jeans I wore to dinner, and neither has she. Her face is ashen as her eyes meet mine.
“What is it?” I ask, my pulse quickening as I stand. We’ve waited hours for Bailey to show up, but I haven’t heard a word from her. I don’t know where she is.
Poppy presses her eyes shut, clutching her phone tightly in her hand. “Wyatt… I’m so sorry.”
“Why?” I take her gently by the shoulders, trembling under my hands. “What is it?”
“She knows,” Poppy whispers. “Bailey knows.”
My breath freezes in my lungs. “What?”
“She’s on a flight home.” Poppy slips from my grasp, sinking to the edge of the bed beside the cat, her face a mask of misery as she gazes at me. I lower myself beside her, my heart clenching.
“Tell me what happened, baby.”
But instead of speaking, she hands over her phone, open to a conversation with my daughter. I scroll through the messages, my stomach dissolving as they confirm my worst fear.
Bailey knows. She knows about me and Poppy, and she has the proof.
God, my poor girl. She must feel so betrayed, so hurt that we didn’t tell her. It’s not like Bailey to run off without saying goodbye, and I can hardly blame her. There’s a wrench in my heart as I imagine her getting onto a plane, trying to process the news of me and Poppy. She must be in shock.
I scan her messages again, trying to read between the lines, to figure out how mad she is, but they give little away.
And as the bombshell of her learning about us settles, another question rises.
Who would do this?
I reread the message, my stomach roiling as I take in the photo of me and Poppy on the beach, and the words: Thought you should know that Poppy is fucking your dad . It was sent from an unknown number, and realization hits me like a bucket of cold water.
I whip my gaze up to Poppy. “It was him, wasn’t it?”
“I think so.” She grimaces. “He must have hacked my phone.”
“That motherfucker,” I spit, rising from the bed, stalking back and forth across the room as dread and fury battle inside me. I don’t know what to respond to first, that Bailey knows about us, or that Kurt is the one who made it happen.
“I’m sorry.” Poppy’s eyes are wide with worry. “I swear, I didn’t send that picture to anyone.”
I shake my head, stopping to take her chin and tilt her face to mine. “Of course you didn’t, baby. I trust you. Don’t you dare apologize for what he’s done.” Sucking in a deep breath, I try to calm down. I can deal with Kurt later; the bigger issue is making sure Bailey’s okay. I crumple onto the bed beside Poppy, heaving out a weary breath. “Why didn’t Bailey message me ?”
“I don’t know. Maybe she was embarrassed?”
“Maybe,” I mumble, but I’m not convinced. I promised Bailey I would keep Poppy safe, that I’d look after her, and from where Bailey’s sitting it probably looks like I did the complete opposite. Looks like I took advantage of her friend when she was vulnerable. Hell, I had those worries myself.
Poppy saws her teeth across her bottom lip, petting Sugar. “We can’t even call her because she’ll be on her flight for the next five and a half hours.”
Shit, she’s right. And then Bailey will be in San Francisco. I can try to contact her then, but what if she doesn’t take my call? What if I don’t get the chance to explain the truth of the situation?
As if reading my mind, Poppy turns to me. “You need to fly out there, Wyatt. You need to see her and explain.”
“ We should fly out there,” I say, but Poppy shakes her head.
“I think this needs to come from you. She’s heard my side of things. Besides…” She glances down at the cat. “Someone needs to be here to look after Sugar.”
I mull this over as I exhale slowly. While I get the sense she’s mostly saying that because she wants to avoid the confrontation, maybe she’s right. Maybe it would be better coming from me. Especially because I sense that I’m the one Bailey’s really upset with.
“Okay,” I agree, pulling out my phone. I check for flights, deciding the best time to arrive will probably be when Bailey’s finished work for the day tomorrow. Once I’ve booked a last-minute seat on a flight, I toss my phone aside, dropping my head into my hands.
“It’s going to be okay,” Poppy murmurs, reaching out to touch me, then withdrawing her hand. When I glance across, her expression is uncertain, almost as if she’s not sure where she stands with me. It’s like a punch to the heart.
“Come here.” I haul her into my arms, and just feeling her warmth and softness against me soothes the ache in my chest. “This changes nothing between you and me. Nothing.”
“Are you sure?” she asks in a small voice, and I draw away to study her face. Her espresso-brown eyes are sad, scarlet lips turned down. I lower my mouth to hers, kissing her softly.
“I’m sure,” I say, my voice gruff with emotion. “I love you, baby. We’ll get through this.”
She lets out a long, tired sigh, nestling against me. “I hope so. I can’t stand the thought of losing her.”
“We won’t lose her,” I murmur, though I’m not sure whether I’m trying to reassure Poppy or myself.
“I can’t believe Kurt would go this far.” Poppy’s tone takes on the sharp edge of anger. “He crossed a line this time.” She sits up, expression hard in a way I’ve never seen. “I have to do something about him.”
My jaw tightens. He’s crossed a line many times, but I suddenly understand why she’s let it go before. In the past, Kurt only hurt her, but this time his actions have hurt the people she loves. While in my mind hurting her was more than enough reason to stand up to him, I’m glad she’s finally had enough.
Poppy reaches for her phone. “I’m texting Violet. It’s time to put Kurt in his place once and for all.”
“It sure is,” I agree darkly. “But use my phone. Just in case.”
She nods, taking my phone to message Violet. Despite the dire situation, I can’t help but feel a swell of satisfaction. We’re going to make that prick pay—in more ways than one. I’ll make sure he gives back every cent he stole from Poppy, and that he never bothers her again.
Poppy squares her shoulders as she sets my phone aside. “Done. I’m not putting up with any more of his shit.”
I gaze at her admiringly. “Good girl.”
Her eyes flare with heat at my words, but it quickly flickers out, and I’m relieved. Neither of us is in the mood to have sex, not after the events of this evening.
My phone buzzes, surprising us both. It’s late, but Violet is obviously still up, and Poppy reads the message, a wicked grin curling along her mouth.
“Violet and Daisy will meet me tomorrow after work to figure out the details of the plan. He won’t know what’s hit him.” Then, with a weighted sigh, Poppy shoves to her feet. “Guess we should try and get some sleep.”
“Yeah.” I rise too, yawning. “At least you can sleep in here again. With me.”
She looks at me with a faint smile. “That’s one good thing, I guess.”
We get ready for bed in silence, both of us absorbed in our thoughts. But after tossing and turning for an hour, Poppy whispers, “Are you still awake?”
“Yes,” I grumble. My mind is too busy churning to sleep.
“Me too.” I feel her sit up beside me in the dark. “Let’s go out on your bike.”
Despite myself, I grunt a laugh. “What? It’s like 2 a.m.”
“So? The streets will be quiet. It will make us feel better. Get us out of our heads.”
I sit up too, rubbing my eyes. She’s right. Of course she is. How does she know that’s exactly what I need?
“I love you so much,” I say, pulling her into me. She sighs, pressing a kiss to my mouth, and we wordlessly rise from the bed and pull on our gear.
The streets are quiet as we peel out of Brooklyn Heights and head through Dumbo, onto the Brooklyn Bridge. It’s exhilarating riding across the bridge at this time of night, with the glittering city laid out before us and Poppy’s arms tight around my waist. For a few moments, I forget everything that’s bothering me. All that exists is the cool night air rushing over us, the water below, and Poppy at my side.
No matter what happens, I have her, I remind myself. And that will always be enough.