40. Wyatt
40
Wyatt
T he sun inches toward the horizon, and anticipation hums through me as I wait for Poppy’s return.
“Thanks, guys.” I grin as I stand at the front door of my new house. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”
“Anytime,” Kyle says, clapping me on the back as he passes. “Good luck.”
Wes, Kyle, and Violet spent the entire day helping me move furniture and boxes from my old place into Marty’s house—what is now mine and Poppy’s new home—while Bailey distracted Poppy with a day out in the city.
“He won’t need it,” Daisy says, squeezing my arm on her way past. She joined us after finishing her shift at Joe’s. “I overheard Poppy talking to Bailey this morning. She’s crazy about you.” Daisy gives me a warm smile, then joins Wes on the front stoop.
“We want a full update as soon as you’re done,” Violet demands, grinning, and I laugh.
“You’ve got it. If all goes according to plan, Poppy will text you in a few hours.” Nerves fizzle in my gut as I contemplate what I’m about to do, but I push them away. I know I’m doing the right thing. It’s what we both want.
I say goodbye to my friends, thanking them again, then walk through the new house, soaking in the quiet, making sure everything is in order. Violet and Daisy helped make up the bedroom and guest room—what will be Bailey’s room when she visits—while the guys helped me haul furniture and assemble some new pieces I purchased, including a few items for what I’m hoping will become a nursery. Maybe that’s a little presumptuous, but I’m hoping Poppy will see my intention—to prepare for the future we want. Together.
There’s a sound downstairs, and my stomach dips as I head to the basement, patting my jeans pocket for the hundredth time.
“Wow,” Bailey says, looking impressed as she wanders the kitchen I installed for Poppy. She’s right on time, following the plan precisely. Her gaze swings to me as I enter the room, face softening when she sees me. She sends me a smile steeped in emotion as Poppy notices me, too.
“Oh, hey.” Poppy shifts her weight, as if she’s not sure how to behave when Bailey’s present. “I didn’t know you’d be over here.”
“I’m here,” I say, my voice hoarse. I cross the room, pulling Poppy into my arms, and kiss her on the mouth. “How was your day?”
Poppy looks uncomfortably at Bailey, who laughs.
“It’s fine,” she mumbles, waving a hand, her cheeks red. “I guess I’m going to have to get used to it, aren’t I?”
“We don’t have to—” Poppy begins, but Bailey shakes her head.
“You should. It’s great to see you both so happy.”
I chuff a laugh, releasing Poppy to hug my daughter. “Good luck, Dad,” she whispers, quiet enough for only me to hear. “I’m just going to call Dean,” she tells Poppy as we part. “I’ll be back soon.”
“Sure.” Poppy watches her go, then turns back to me, smiling. “It was a great day. We had a long chat and just enjoyed hanging out. It was lovely to spend time with my bestie again, without…” she trails off, and I nod, because I know what she means. Without the secrets between us .
I stroke a hand across Poppy’s hair, relieved to see the tension gone from her shoulders, the crease permanently etched on her forehead for weeks finally fading. I know she’s been anxious about Bailey’s reaction to us, and it was my idea for Bailey to fly out and patch things up. That, and I needed her to distract Poppy while I put my plan into action.
“I’m glad the two of you worked it out,” I murmur, pressing my lips to her forehead, and Poppy leans into me.
“I missed her.” Her hands snake around my waist, her head burrowing into my chest. She sighs. “I guess I should figure out what to make us for dinner.”
“Not tonight, baby. Tonight, I’m going to cook.”
Her eyes shimmer with amusement. “Really? You remember the last time you ‘cooked’ we ate out?”
I laugh. “Not tonight. You’ll see.”
“Okay then.” She smiles. “Let’s head home.”
Nerves jump through me at her words. I know Poppy loved our old house, but I also know she loves this place, and I can only hope she’s happy with what I’ve done. With what I’m about to do.
“We are home,” I whisper, sliding my hands into her hair and pressing a kiss to her mouth.
She gazes up at me questioningly. I give her a secret little smile, slipping my hand into hers. Then I turn for the stairs, leading us to the first floor. Poppy trails after me, bewildered, until we step into the living room, set up with my sofa, coffee table, TV, and bookcase. It still looks a little bare, given how much larger it is than our place across the street, but we’ll fill it together over time.
Poppy’s jaw opens. “What did you…”
“This is our new living room,” I tell her, motioning about the space. “We might need some more furniture, though.”
She casts her eyes around the room, taking in the tall ceilings, the crown molding that I had Kyle and Violet’s crew painstakingly restore, the dark stained floors.
“Wyatt…” she breathes in awe. “It’s beautiful.”
I lead her through to the next room. “And this is our kitchen.” This and the bathrooms are the only spaces I had Kyle and Violet’s crew completely redo because of how outdated they were, and it was worth every penny. It’s much smaller than the commercial kitchen below, obviously, but the marble countertops and farmhouse sink gleam under the overhead lights, a great contrast to the dark cabinets I had installed.
Poppy rushes to the bright red Smeg fridge, stroking her hands appreciatively across its vintage-inspired curves. “Oh my God, I’ve always wanted one of these!”
Her delight stirs a warm laugh in my chest. It’s exactly how I was hoping she’d react. I chose the design because I love how distinctive it is, and I chose the color because it reminds me of her. It will bring out the pretty poppies on her apron when she’s in here.
“And the stove…” She practically faints when she sees the six-burner stove, but it doesn’t last long because she’s then captivated by the sink, the marble island with our stools tucked underneath, the pot rack hanging in the center of the kitchen. She spins back to me with wide eyes. “I have two kitchens.”
I smile. “Of course, baby. One is for work. The other”—I gesture around us—“is for us.”
Shakes her head in disbelief. “Wyatt, I thought you’d created my dream kitchen downstairs, but this is…”
I chuckle at her loss of words, my heart full. Sliding my hand back into hers, I motion to the space between the kitchen and living room. “This would be the perfect spot for a dining table, don’t you think?” That’s one thing I didn’t want to choose without her, knowing it’s where she’d serve her delicious meals, where we’d eat dinner as a family with our children.
If I get to be that lucky.
“Yes,” she whispers, eyes shining. “I don’t know what to say…”
“Shh.” I put a finger to her mouth, then replace it with my lips. “Don’t say anything. There’s more.”
I lead her up the stairs to the next level, the level with our bedroom, and the room I’m most nervous to show her—the nursery. To calm my nerves, I start with our room. I’ve taken my bed and nightstands, but added her rug to the floor, her throw pillows and weighted blanket to the bed. The poppy print takes center place on the wall, and as we enter the room, Poppy gasps, taking in the scene. Our bed sits below two large windows which overlook the backyard, but the real feature is the old fireplace with a white marble mantel that Kyle and Violet’s crew restored. It’s now in good working order, and come winter, I plan to make love to Poppy right on the floor in front of a roaring fire.
“This is beautiful,” she says, turning to me. “I can’t believe this is our bedroom.”
I squeeze her, my stomach tumbling. Nothing left to do now except show her the nursery.
My hands are suddenly clammy as I lead her along the hall to the room I’ve set up for us to fill with kids, the one I haven’t painted yet because I want her to have a say in how it’s decorated. But I have placed a crib and a change table in there, added a mobile above the crib, hoping it might inspire her, might show her I meant everything I said that day on Jones Beach.
As we enter the room and Poppy stops short, wide-eyed, my heart launches into my throat. What was I thinking, setting up a nursery before we’re even married? Panic swamps me as Poppy moves silently to the crib and runs her hand along the wood. This was a terrible idea.
“Uh—” I cross the room quickly, scrambling for an explanation. “This was just—”
“Wyatt.” She turns to me, her eyes glassy with emotion. “Is this a nursery?”
I scan her face, trying to read how she feels. Fuck, I can’t tell. All I can do is be honest.
I exhale heavily. “Yes. I thought maybe I could show you how I imagined the room for when the time comes. I know it’s a lot to take in, and—”
“It’s wonderful.” A tear snakes down her cheek and I wipe it away before she can. “I love it.”
I examine her carefully from under low brows. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” She dabs at the corner of her eye. “It’s… it’s exactly how I imagined it.”
“It’s not too much?”
She shakes her head, stroking my cheek as she gazes up at me. “I thought the kitchen was my favorite room,” she whispers. “But it might be this one.”
Oh, God. Warmth pours through me at the smile on her face. This woman is everything I could ever want. Everything I could ever need. I don’t know how I’ve gotten so lucky, but I won’t do a single thing to mess it up. I won’t let a day go by without telling her how much she means to me.
Without giving it another thought, I drop to one knee in front of the crib. Poppy’s lips part in surprise as I reach into my pocket to retrieve the tiny box, popping it open.
“I never imagined I could feel as happy as I do with you, Poppy.” My voice is raw as I say the words I’ve rehearsed a thousand times in my head during the past few weeks. “I want to spend the rest of my life making you smile like that.”
“Wyatt,” she breathes, her eyes filling again. “What are you doing?”
The question makes me chuckle. “I’m asking you to marry me, baby. Will you be my wife? Will you live here with me, have a family here with me? I know it doesn’t have a white picket fence, but…”
She falls to her knees and presses her lips to mine, tears spilling down her cheeks. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect. I love you so much.”
I search her face as my own eyes fill. “Is that a yes?”
“That’s a fuck yes.”
A warm laugh rushes through me, and I blink the emotion from my eyes as I reach into the box with shaking hands. The ring I chose is a large, emerald-cut ruby flanked by teardrop diamonds, set in a rose gold band. I chose it because everything about it reminded me of Poppy—her red lips, her name, her strong, passionate nature. I slide the ring onto her finger, and she holds her hand up to examine it, her mouth open in awe.
“This is the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.”
“ You are the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen,” I tell her, and she laughs, pulling me tight against her. Before I can say anything more, her lips are on mine again, hands moving over my shirt hungrily.
“I love you,” she whispers, her lips moving along my jaw. “I need you.” She reaches for my belt buckle, and I don’t fight her. I’ve never felt happier, more sure of my future, and I need to be as close to her as humanly possible.
We make love on the floor of the nursery, our movements colored by urgency and passion, and it reminds me of the first night we slept together in Napa. The night I knew, in my heart of hearts, that she was the woman I needed.
Forever.
Once we’re satisfied (for now) and dressed again, I show Poppy the top floors of the house, where Bailey will stay when she visits, along with the other rooms I haven’t filled yet but plan to. Soon.
Then we return to the kitchen, where I text Bailey to join us, and pull a bottle of champagne from the fridge. Poppy leans against the counter, alternating between cooing over her ring and cooing over the new fridge, glowing with happiness. Just knowing I made her feel that way is enough to get me high.
“Wyatt,” she says, as I hand her a glass of champagne and press a kiss to her scarlet-red lips. Her eyes are full of love as she gazes up at me. “You need to know, about what you said… I feel the same. I never dreamed I could feel as happy as I do, and I want to spend my life making you smile, too. I can’t imagine anything better.”
Shit.
Emotion sweeps through me, and I have to press my eyes shut to stop it from overwhelming me.
“I can’t believe I am this lucky,” I say hoarsely, setting my champagne aside to cradle her face and take her mouth in a passionate kiss. And even though we’ve just made love, desire rushes through me again, and I press my hips into hers against the counter.
“Not to spoil the mood or anything…” Bailey’s voice drifts from the doorway, and Poppy and I part with a laugh.
“Sorry,” I mumble, twisting away, my face hot. Probably best I don’t take Poppy on our new counter with Bailey right there.
But I know exactly what we’ll be doing later.
I push the thought from my mind for now and take a deep breath to center myself, then turn to my daughter, smiling. She’s holding Sugar in her arms, and the cat jumps down to sniff the floor and inspect her new home.
“Don’t be sorry, Dad. I’m glad you’re happy.” She looks at Poppy, whose cheeks are equally red, and squeezes her arm. “You too.” Her gaze falls to the ruby on Poppy’s finger, and she grins. “I take it you said yes?”
Poppy looks down at the ring dreamily. “Of course I said yes. How could I not?”
Bailey accepts the glass of champagne from my outstretched hand. “This is really great, you guys. I mean it.” She hesitates, then adds, “And as soon as I can get over the weirdness of it, I want a little sister.”
Poppy looks at me, her cheeks red, mouth wide in a massive grin. A grin I all too happily return. I was worried the nursery might be too much, but as usual, Poppy is right there with me. She wants what I want.
“You know we can’t control the sex,” I say, and Bailey chokes on her champagne.
“Jesus, Dad.” She screws up her face. “I don’t need to hear that.”
A laugh bursts from Poppy. “He means the sex of the baby , dork.”
“Oh.” Bailey laughs uncomfortably, shaking her head. “Of course. Well, I’ll accept a little brother, too.”
Poppy’s gaze is warm as it meets mine again across the kitchen. I itch to walk over and pull her close, but out of respect for Bailey, I don’t.
It’s futile, though, because Bailey lifts her gaze to the ceiling and sighs, saying, “It’s fine. Kiss her already.”
Poppy laughs as I close the distance between us, lowering my mouth to hers in a chaste kiss. A kiss that merely hints at all the things I plan to do to her later. Then I pull her into my side and sip my champagne as Bailey and Poppy discuss wedding plans. I listen, my heart full as I think about Marty and Joyce and this house, the gift they gave us. I think about my daughter, so full of life and love, the relationship we’ve grown despite the obstacles in our way.
And Poppy, the woman I vowed to keep safe. She found that safety in my arms, of all places, and in doing so, filled my home and my heart with her love.