Chapter 27
27
Poppy
“What now?” The water’s colder than I’d like. It’s not tempting me to dive in, but it’s warm enough to dangle my feet in the pool.
“I go to a lab and get swabbed.” Laird sits forward on the lounger, watching me like a hawk. I’m not sure if he thinks I’m going to fly away or fall into the water. Whatever happens, he looks ready to save me, which is very endearing.
I lift my sunglasses to the top of my head and glance over my shoulder. “I meant with the child.”
“What do you mean?” His hands are clasped together, and he drags his tongue across his bottom lip several times. I’m not gifted the blue of his eyes since they’re hidden behind sunglasses, but I always have the sky.
“Are you going to connect with the mother? Do you know if the child is a boy or girl? A name? Age?”
“I think the age would be just under two.”
“How do you know that? ”
“Because I know when we had sex.” His eyes dart to mine, his expression holding annoyance in his pinched brow. He looks away from me toward the ocean. “I don’t know if we should talk—”
“Yeah, I’m thinking it’s best if we don’t.” We’re moving fast, so fast that we’re spiraling out of control. Or is that only my head spinning? I push off the coping and get to my feet. “This feels too big to invade such a personal matter before you’ve reckoned with it.”
His gaze returns, or I assume it has since he’s still wearing shades so black that the light can’t give me a peek. “There’s no reckoning, Poppy.”
“Bad word choice. Handle? Does that fit better?” Instead of focusing on me, I want him to have the freedom to figure out the next steps for him. I wasn’t expecting a fight?
It’s weird how you get used to something and start seeing things from a different perspective. How attractive this man is will never change, but I’d almost forgotten how big he is until he stands, and his shadow stretches to consume me. “I’m going to need you to fill me in here because I’m confused.” He finally tears his glasses from his face and asks, “Are you upset that I might have a child out there, or are you upset that I had sex with someone after you?”
“You mean before me.” If looks could kill, he’d be dead. If looks could incriminate, he’d be guilty. “Right?”
“Right. Before.”
The sun beats down on my shoulders, and the tension between us is thick. Feeling heated, I say, “I’m going inside.” I’m not sure if water can cool my temper, but it will help my thirst.
I enter the house, checking over my shoulder to see if he’s following. Closer than I expected, he takes the door to close it behind us. I grab two glasses and fill them from the pitcher inside the fridge. Setting them on the counter, I let him take his pick.
He chooses me, taking hold of my hand, and folding our fingers together. “If you don’t want to discuss the situation, let’s talk about you.”
“I don’t want to talk about me.”
“I want to know why you’re upset, Poppy.”
I hate that I’m moody, the bubble bursting before I got to fully enjoy what we had. I take a sip of water and then another, the cold liquid soothing as it coats my throat, and then ask, “What do you know about her?”
“Do you really want to talk about this?”
“No, I don’t, but I also can’t ignore it like it’s not there, like she’s not out there now.” I have no idea where this is coming from. “I know I don’t have a right to be mad, but for some reason, I am. I’m sorry.” I pull back and turn away. What am I doing? Why am I pushing away a man who has treated me like his dream come true?
Making matters worse, I start crying. It’s only a few tears, but where are they coming from? Why? I come out of the kitchen and start for the bedroom. I need to leave and get out of here before I make it worse for him as well.
My waist is caught, his body curving around the back of mine. “Laird . . . please.”
“Please what?” he whispers in my ear and then kisses my neck. Not once but three times before he cradles himself around me.
My feet are stuck to the floor, my body refusing to move. I turn in his arms and bury my face in him. Naturally, he smells like what we had together—incredible. Rubbing my back, he dips his head down to press against the side of mine. “Talk to me, baby. ”
I try to swipe my tears from my face, but my arms are tucked in too tight to move. So I let his T-shirt catch them and whisper, “It feels like a betrayal. I know that doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t to me, but you had sex with her. You made a baby—”
“Maybe.”
“Okay, you maybe made a baby with her.”
“Are you mad that I’ve had sex with other women? If so, you’ve got me confused with a Boy Scout.” I laugh. I don’t know why I’m laughing as much as I don’t understand the other emotions pouring out of me. He leans back and cups my face, making sure our eyes are set on each other, and says, “I can’t take back what I’ve done for the past fifteen years. I can only be what I am now. So if me not being a virgin—”
Scoffing, I roll my eyes. “No one said you had to be a virgin. I’m just wondering if this person is popping up from your past, how many others will there be?” I’m too unsettled to have my body captured any longer, even if his intentions were good. “What is her financial circumstance? What’s her current relationship status? What is she expecting of you beyond being a father to her child?”
He takes a deep breath, but his eyes are trained on the floor. “I don’t know. I don’t have the answers you’re wanting.” He looks up. “I’m in the dark as much as you.”
“How can that be? You must know something.”
“No . . .” His breath comes harsh, but his words come quietly. “I don’t recognize her name either. I don’t remember who she was. I don’t remember what night I met her. I only know it was in Nashville because of the date listed by her attorney. So that makes things better?” He rubs the back of his neck. “I’m confident it doesn’t, but now you know as much as I do. ”
The landmines he threw between us detonated as planned. Now I know what I shouldn’t, and I’ve made things worse between us.
A paternity test.
His manager.
His sister the other day even.
The cabin.
No electricity.
So much has happened, and I haven’t taken the time to process it. My head pounds as hard as my heart. I didn’t realize I was backing toward the hallway until my heel hit the corner.
Even the store was exhausting. Every woman in there was trying to catch his eyes. He’s not coming after me, which gives me the space to say, “It’s been a busy week. I’m thinking I might sleep at my apartment tonight.”
“Only tonight?”
“I don’t live here, Laird.”
His right cheek tugs a grin onto his face. “You’re still on the clock, remember?”
I grin. I may feel a mess inside, but he still made the effort to make me smile. “You can hold my paycheck for safekeeping.”
“Until you return to pick it up?” He watches me like I’m a lion ready to escape, the humor lost on his face.
I return to him, taking his hand in both of mine. “I’ll come back, Laird. I promise.”
“Why do you need to go?” Despite the demand of the question, his voice is too even, his words measured. I hate that I feel like I’m under a microscope but more so that my truth feels like lies slipping from my mouth.
“I’m out of clothes I want to wear. I would like to wear a little makeup with you. Dress up. Get my yoga mat to do yoga on that incredible pool deck.” He knows . . . he knows there’s more to it. I don’t want the building blocks of this relationship to be lies. I keep my eyes steady on his chest, refusing to go above his collarbone. “We’re playing house, and it feels dangerous at this point.”
My words punch, his breath audibly expelled. “Look at me, Poppy.” I slide my gaze higher to a mouth that briefly dazzles me when I think of all the pleasure it gives from kissing to making me feel amazing. I reach his eyes, but the warmth they usually hold for me is cold and vacant.
Silence lengthens, causing my heart to kick up and making me wonder if he can hear it as loudly as I do. He finally asks, “Dangerous how?”
“To my heart,” I reply without thinking. Instinct tells me to protect myself, though it doesn’t feel natural regarding him. He’s protected me since I met him . . . well once we got past the initial shock in the kitchen. “Today was a lot for you, Laird. You’re not saying it, but I know it was. The shock alone is enough to throw life out of whack. You need—”
“Don’t tell me what I need.” He squeezes my hand, his eyes determined on mine. “I know what I need. I need you.”
“It’s one night. A night to process what you’re feeling, to think through—”
He moves so abruptly that he causes a cold breeze to trail in his tracks. The moods he left at Deer Lake have come back in force. I want to help him, but the rug has been ripped out from under both our feet.
My mind is already made up, so I go to him one last time. Rubbing his shoulders from behind, I say, “You need a break as much as I do. Not from each other but from everything. You need to process what is happening because it might change your life forever. ”
Covering one of my hands with his, he angles toward me. “Will it change your mind?”
“About tonight? No. About you? Also no.” I lean against the glass door and add, “We’re back in the real world, trying to recreate what we had just a few days ago.” I can’t let myself be swayed into getting my heart broken. “It’s not going to work.”
“What will? What will convince you to stay?”
“I want to be with you, but I want it to be based on what we are now. The vacation was nice. Meeting you was the best thing to happen to me in years. But let’s be together built on our current lives, the ones we lead every day.”
“I was hoping forever.”
Reaching up, I touch his cheek. “You have so much faith.”
“Only in us.”
“That’s enough.” I lift to kiss him and find myself falling into his arms again, like my heart already did. Not putting off the inevitable, I drop to my heels. “I promise you, it’s only tonight.”
“It’s more than faith I have in us, baby.”
“Oh yeah, what else is there?”
“Trust.” He kisses me while getting two good handfuls of my ass. “Let’s get you packed. I’ll drive you to your place.”
“You don’t have to. I know it’s a hassle, especially this time of day.”
He cuts through the living room and gets the glass of water I set out for him. “It will give me time to think on the way home.”
I get mine as well and take a sip. “You don’t think when you’re with me?”
“Not enough. You have me going off instinct.”
“Is that so bad?” I ask, leading him to the bedroom .
“Nope.”
Trapped by piles of laundry, I look up as soon as my phone starts ringing . . . across the room. I jump over the lights and then the growing dark clothes piles, setting a personal goal to grab it by the second ring. Winning silver in this event, I answer, “Hello?” I’m panting more than I should, considering the easy task. That’s what I get for taking a week off from working out. Well . . . exercise in the traditional sense. I still burned plenty of calories with Laird, though.
I laugh to myself.
“Glad to hear life is so great after your tantrum at my bridal shower.” The grate of her tone sucks the joy from my lungs.
“Hi, Mom.”
“I know you don’t care, but if you knew how many apologies I had to make on your behalf even to the staff. Apparently, you ran over some innocent server and into a celebrity client of theirs. It’s baffling and embarrassing to make a scene like you did and hurtful to steal my spotlight.” And she calls me dramatic. Apple. Tree.
Being berated wasn’t on my agenda tonight, so I close my eyes, wishing I had never answered. Or at least had checked the caller ID before I did. “How many?” I can’t help myself.
“How many what?”
“How many apologies did you have to make on my behalf?”
“Tsk. I don’t have time for this, Poppy.” I know she’s on the tail end of rolling her eyes right now. “It’s late, and Trevor is waiting for me in bed.” My stomach lurches from that visual. She continues, “I thought you would have apologized to me this past week, but I see you never change. Not even after—”
“Not after what, Mom? After an accident that I shouldn’t have survived? Not after you had to hire a nurse to take care of me because you had a trip to St. Bart’s that you booked while sitting in the hospital next to me because my critical condition was too much for you to bear? Or do we need to go back further to talk about how you told Marina’s mother that you could only dream that I could be as talented and beautiful as her daughter after she was crowned homecoming queen?”
“Why are you so ungrateful?”
“Do you remember what you said to me the morning after I won prom queen?”
Her heavy breath is filled with annoyance. “I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”
“Get me two Tylenol and shut the blinds.” I hate the way that feeling of failure, that I would never be enough returns so easily, sinking to the pit of my stomach.
“I didn’t call to fight you,” she says, her voice honeyed as if I can just set the pain aside.
I’ve held a soft spot for her my entire life. Though I was spoiled with an incredible role model, Marina’s mom, Mimi is mine. I accepted that a long time ago. She’s only capable of giving love that she understands. She was raised with bank accounts and trust funds as a show of love. I can’t expect her to understand the difference. It’s not going to be from Trevor. He is well off but missing the key to happiness—a heart.
I got out. That should be enough, but that I’ve met Laird and felt what true love feels like, there’s no going back to accepting anything less .
“I called you several times last weekend, but you didn’t reply. That’s why I’m calling so late. I was hoping to catch you.”
“You caught me.” I pace my apartment and wander aimlessly, waiting for her to continue.
She says, “I want the menu changed.”
I stop abruptly in front of the mirror. “The menu? What are you talking about?”
There’s a breath taken that I can hear before she replies, “Well, the amuse bouche is unremarkable, two of the appetizers were just served at Mildred Lassiter’s vow renewal ceremony last month, and beef Wellington? Really, darling? I was hoping for pizzazz, electrifying. Not a night at the country club-style menu. That’s more your father’s speed. Trevor and I—”
“This wasn’t a discussion. The menu wasn’t up for votes. This is a favor I was doing for you. If you don’t appreciate classic dishes done at a high level, I’m not the chef for you.” When I turn toward the mirror, my hair is still damp from a hot shower, but my skin is clear, even glowing. I can give that credit to Laird and his mouth.
“You’re so rude. No wonder you don’t have regular clients. Who would put up with this behavior from the caterer?”
“I’m not a caterer, Mom,” I snap with an unintended sharp emphasis at the end. “I’m a chef. I was doing you a favor.”
“Us a favor? I think you’re being disrespectful to me and your soon-to-be stepfather.”
“Stepfather? Are you fucking kidding me?” I sound like Laird and am not upset by it.
“Poppy, stop it right now.” The abrasive tone catches me off guard. “I deserve your best for all I’ve done for you. I was there when your father wasn’t.”
“My father wasn’t there because of you.” My words slice through the phone call, and I regret them the moment they’re said. “I didn’t mean that, Mom. I’m sor—”
“Resubmit a new menu by Sunday. Thank you.” She hangs up on me.
I deserve it.
Does she sometimes? Sure. But I can’t fight uphill forever.
I stare at the blank screen of the phone, still shocked that she called me to demand I do more for her. She’s never asked once.
Hate to think it, but she and Trevor deserve each other, and neither deserves my beef Wellington.
As tough as I try to act, I’m feeling tattered, knowing I’ll never be what she wants. So why try for any more? Focus on me. Easier said than done.
A text vibrates my phone, causing me to look down. I expect to see a message from my mother, but it’s from Willie at Deer Lake. My car is ready for pickup.
Great. Now I have more to deal with.
I look into the mirror, adjusting my hair, and trying to keep myself from crying. I’m exhausted and it might be time to call it a night. The note stuck to the mirror catches my attention before I walk away. I love you. L. So few words have such a big impact. Another mystery I hope to solve one day.
The L reminds me of Laird, but I don’t want him to think I’m seeing someone else. I carefully unstick the note from the glass and cross the room to tuck it into the nightstand drawer.
Just as it lands, I glance down one more time, rereading it as if I don’t know it by heart, like the handwriting, already, and then close the drawer.
I return to the laundry with Laird still on my mind. It’s only been a few hours since we’ve parted, but I can’t help but wonder if he’s also thinking about me. With my phone in hand and Laird on my heart, I text: Want to go to Deer Lake with me?