Chapter Eighteen #2
“But we’re going to get married eventually,” Lyric said, the pitch of her voice rising. “Why wait?”
Rosaline threw her hands in the air and spun on her heel, stalking across the kitchen and glaring out the window into the
backyard.
“I’m not asking for your permission, Rosaline. You know you’re not my mother, right.”
A muscle in her jaw flexed. “No, but you sure as hell are acting like a child right now.”
“Okay,” Poppy jumped in, trying to diffuse the tension before someone said something they were going to regret. Something
that wouldn’t be easy to walk back. “Have you two talked about where you’re going to live or—”
“Of course we have.” Cash looked at her like she was the one acting crazy. “We’ll live in Portland from August to February,
assuming we make it through the playoffs. We’ll head down to Los Angeles during the offseason.”
Lyric nodded. “There are studios here in town where I can record if I want.”
“Or we talked about renovating a guest room. Maybe building out the other side of the basement where the crawl space is,”
Cash said. “Turning part of the house into a studio.”
Lyric gazed across the kitchen at Rosaline imploringly. “I know that from the outside looking in, this seems rash and impulsive,
but it’s not. Everything you’re supposed to talk about before you get engaged? Kids and faith and our families and money and
our careers? We’ve had these conversations. We’re on the same page. Rosaline, I love him. We love each other.”
Cash pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. “Look, I know you don’t like me very much—”
“I never said that I didn’t like you.” Rosaline turned away from the window. “I just want what’s best for Lyric.”
“You and I have that in common.” Cash rolled his shoulders back and stood taller. “I’m not ever going to claim to be what’s
best for her. But no one is ever going to love her as much as I do or support her the way I will. I can promise you that.”
Lyric released a shuddering breath. “Can you just—be happy for us? Please?”
Cash looked at Poppy with so much hope on his face and—she wasn’t made of stone.
She lurched forward, rising on her toes, and threw her arms around him and Lyric both, wrapping them up in a bone-crushing
hug. “Congratulations. Both of you.”
Was it fast? Yes. Too fast, maybe. But it was clear their minds were made up and nothing she or Rosaline said would convince
them otherwise.
“Thanks, Pop-Tart,” Cash whispered against her temple. “Means a lot.”
All eyes turned to Rosaline, who was watching them with an indecipherable expression.
“Roz?” Lyric whispered.
“I am happy for you.” Rosaline shut her eyes and turned her face up to the ceiling. “I am. I’m just—” She cut herself off with
a quick shake of her head. “Poppy and I are going upstairs. We’ve got work to do.”
Poppy perched on the edge of the bed, watching as Rosaline paced the length of the bedroom.
“I’m not not happy for them,” Rosaline stressed.
“I know.”
“It’s just . . . three months.” Rosaline shook her head. “You know as well as I do what people are going to say.”
She did. That Lyric was having a baby. That she and Cash, neither of who had the greatest track record when it came to relationships,
were moving too fast, repeating the same mistakes they’d made before. Not that either of them had ever been engaged before,
but it was no secret they both tended to fall hard and fast. A fact that worried Poppy and she knew worried Rosaline, too.
“Do you think we could convince them to keep it quiet? Just not say anything?”
Rosaline’s footsteps slowed and she looked at Poppy askance. “Keep the engagement under wraps? And what, have them tie the
knot in secret? Hard launch their marriage? Do you seriously think that’s going to work?”
“I don’t know, but it could be worth a shot.” She shrugged. “People can’t speculate on something they know nothing about.”
Rosaline snorted derisively. “Poppy, sweetheart, I adore you, but you and I both know that’s not true.”
“Yeah, well, it still couldn’t . . .” Hold—hold on. “Did you just say you adore me?”
Rosaline quit pacing and turned to Poppy, brows raised. “Yes?”
Her heart crashed into her ribs and her lungs refused to work, her mouth opening and shutting wordlessly. Adore was not a word she heard used often. Certainly no one had ever said they adored her.
“You seem surprised.” Rosaline looked deeply amused as she crossed the room and stopped in front of Poppy. “Pleasantly, I
hope.”
She reached out and tucked her fingers in the pockets of Rosaline’s high-waisted leggings. “Pleasantly is one way of putting it.” A breathless, giddy little laugh escaped her. “I guess I just wasn’t expecting you to tell me
you adore me in the same breath you tell me I’m wrong.”
“I didn’t say you were wrong. Impractically idealistic, maybe . . .”
“Be still my heart.”
With two fingers beneath Poppy’s chin, Rosaline tipped her head back, bringing Poppy’s gaze to hers. Her green eyes crinkled
when she smiled and Poppy’s heart thudded extra hard. “I figured you knew, but seeing as you clearly did not, let the record
show that I’m pretty crazy about you, Poppy.”
“Ooh, on record, huh?” She grinned. “Must be serious.”
“Mm, it is.” Crawling onto the mattress with her knees on either side of Poppy’s hips, Rosaline settled herself on Poppy’s
lap, wiggling a little to get comfortable. “Now’s right about the time you tell me that it’s mutual and you’re crazy about
me too.”
Poppy sputtered out a laugh. “Presumptuous, much?”
Arms draped loosely around Poppy’s neck, Rosaline dropped her chin, the distance between their faces dwindling. Instead of
kissing Poppy on the mouth, she pressed her lips to the bolt of Poppy’s jaw. Poppy’s lids fluttered and her teeth dragged
against her bottom lip. Rosaline’s breath was hot against the side of her face, making her shiver. “It’s not presumptuous
if I’m right,” she whispered.
Poppy exhaled sharply. “I figured you knew,” she said, echoing Rosaline’s words.
Rosaline pressed another kiss to Poppy’s jaw. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear you say it.”
“I am.” She shivered when Rosaline’s teeth scraped her skin. “Crazy about you.”
Rosaline sat back and offered her a blinding smile. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“Oh my god.” Poppy laughed. “You’re impossible.”
“Nothing is impossible, Poppy.” She wrinkled her nose. “Except maybe convincing Lyric and Curran to see reason.”
“I still think my idea has merit.”
“Sorry, but have you met those two? I bet you twenty bucks Lyric’s already been on Etsy looking up shit with wifey for lifey bedazzled on it.” Rosaline shook her head. “No, we’re just going to have to try and get ahead of it.”
“Fair enough. I think Cash has probably maxed out his discretion points for the rest of the year.” Poppy gnawed on her lip, smiling a little when Rosaline reached out and pried it free from her teeth.
“They could—okay, this is going to sound so beyond basic, but what if they just announce their engagement on Instagram? Caption it with as much or as little as they want to say? That would at least give them the opportunity to do it on their terms.”
Unlike how the news that they were dating broke.
“It’s not a bad idea,” Rosaline said, brow furrowed in obvious contemplation. “Gabby over at E! owes me a favor. I might drop her a line, hint that she should keep an eye out so she can jump on the story first. Nothing
she writes will be defamatory or incendiary. Maybe the other outlets will follow her lead and keep it clean.”
“Maybe. Either way, it doesn’t seem like Cash and Lyric are too worried. Not the way we are.”
“It’s our job to worry about them. And even if it wasn’t, I still would.” Rosaline blew out a breath, ruffling the hair that
had escaped the bun on the back of her head and fallen across her forehead. “God, I can’t believe Lyric plans to move to Portland.”
She ran a hand over her face and huffed out a laugh. “Guess I better start looking at properties on Zillow.”
“Properties as in, you’re planning on moving too?” It probably shouldn’t have come as a surprise and yet, until this moment,
she hadn’t even considered that Lyric moving to Portland meant that Rosaline might be moving back to Oregon too.
“I’m not sure why I’d stay in LA. The sunshine is nice, don’t get me wrong, but I can live without the traffic and smog and,
to be honest, I miss living somewhere with seasons,” Rosaline confessed. “As Lyric pointed out, she can work from anywhere
and so can I. And Portland does have its charms, after all.”
“True. Portland is home to the most strip clubs per capita in the nation.”
Rosaline laughed. “I was thinking more along the lines of the most Poppy Petersons per capita, but sure. Strip clubs too.”
Poppy’s cheeks hurt from trying to keep her smile in check. “The most Poppy Petersons, huh?”
“I’m really only interested in one particular Poppy Peterson. She’s enough of a handful.”
Poppy laughed. “Well, if during your home search you happen to stumble across a nice, cheap one bedroom, let me know, would
you?”
Rosaline cocked her head. “How come?”
“No offense to Lyric and Cash, but I’m not really interested in being roommates with a couple of newlyweds,” she said. “Living
with Cash wasn’t ever meant to be permanent. More of a . . . stopgap until I was ready to find my own place.”
“And are you thinking of renting, or . . . ?”
She snorted. “Cash pays me disgustingly well but have you looked at the market here lately? All you people moving here from
California are driving up the home prices,” she teased.
Rosaline pursed her lips. “I mean. You could just . . . you know.”
Her brows rose. She really didn’t. “I could just what?”
“You could just . . .” Rosaline shrugged, her gaze set somewhere over Poppy’s shoulder. “You know. Move in with me.”
Her breath caught and it was a good thing she was sitting down because she was pretty sure her whole world had just tipped
on its axis. “What?”
“It was just an idea.” Rosaline shrugged tightly, shoulders creeping upward. “If you hate it—”
“I didn’t say that,” she blurted, not wanting Rosaline to get the wrong idea. “But . . . isn’t it a little early to be talking
about moving in together?”
“Probably,” Rosaline admitted with a wry laugh as she reached up and tucked her hair behind her ears, a self-conscious gesture Poppy recognized.
A blush stained her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, but she met Poppy’s gaze head-on.
“I know it makes me a hypocrite considering I just told Lyric she was moving too fast, but . . . what did Curran say?” The corner of her mouth dimpled into a smile. “When you know, you know?”
Poppy’s heart fluttered furiously. “Rosaline.”
“It’ll probably be months before I buy a place,” she said, squirming a little atop Poppy’s lap. “But if you’re not interested—”
“That’s not what I’m saying. I’m just . . .” Still pinching herself that Rosaline wanted to be with her. Because things like
this? Things like this didn’t happen to Poppy.
Poppy survived on scraps of affection. She made meals out of breadcrumbs. Anything more seemed too good to be true.
But maybe . . . maybe she didn’t have to live like that anymore. In constant fear that what she did have would be snatched
away. That she didn’t deserve to have good things in the first place let alone keep them.
“If you’re offering, then yeah.” Poppy grinned. “I’d really like that.”
An answering smile lit up Rosaline’s face and the fluttering in Poppy’s chest and stomach increased tenfold.
“Wow. Okay.” Rosaline gave a near-frazzled laugh. She pressed a hand to her stomach and the other to her forehead. “Oh shit.”
Poppy frowned. “What?”
“We’re going to have to tell Curran and Lyric.”