Chapter 25
On Main Street, the air was thick with the scents of kettle corn and cider donuts, and the festival lights shimmered off every storefront window, reflecting the parade of costumes.
“Are you sure my eyeliner is even?” Zoya, Poppy’s fourteen-year-old niece, asked for what felt like the hundredth time.
“You’re Wednesday Addams. You’re required to look like you haven’t slept in three days. It’s perfect.”
Zoya’s mascaraed eyes narrowed in suspicion. She hopped onto the wooden sidewalk, angling her body toward the storefront glass so she could glower at her own reflection. “Are you sure?” she asked again.
“I promise. You look so dead inside.” Poppy smiled, and Zoya rewarded her with a smirk.
They were early, but the street was already buzzing.
Children—none of them Zoya’s age, who would not deign to be seen trick-or-treating “with a parent”—darted between the tables of Halloween crafts, faces sticky with orange frosting and black licorice.
As they passed Brewed Awakenings, a local band set up their amps for a set of ‘Spooky Classics,’ and hipsters in makeshift costumes argued about whether “Monster Mash” was overrated.
The plan was to meet her sisters to walk around the festival with her nephews and nieces. It was an annual tradition, well, it had become one since their father passed away.
Liam and Frankie came back from their honeymoon the day before, so they were going to meet them as well.
And after the festival, Zion was throwing a Halloween party, which Poppy had been looking forward to, but now that it was eight o’clock, she wasn’t sure she’d make it, because she could barely keep her eyes open as it was.
It had been two weeks since she’d found out the news, and somehow it still didn’t seem real.
Maybe that was because she hadn’t told anyone.
Not her mom, not her sisters, not Miss Carol, not Liam.
She had a follow-up appointment with Steph at twelve weeks, and she’d decided after that, she’d start to tell people. Maybe. She just wasn’t sure.
AJ had been perfect, attentive, almost relentlessly so.
He’d showed up every day at her doorstep with dinner, either cooked or takeout, and came every morning to just check in to see if she needed anything.
He had gone on walks with her, Rocco, and Tabitha.
He did her dishes, laundry, and cleaning without her asking.
She’d drawn hard boundaries, though. After the shower incident, no more sleepovers or showers.
She had to try and protect herself somehow.
They hadn’t talked much about the baby, other than him asking how she was feeling.
He didn’t ask the way people do when they’re just being polite, he wanted the facts, the metrics.
Did she feel worse or better than yesterday?
What was her energy level, on a scale of one to ten?
Sometimes she resented him for it, mostly, she just felt guilty, because none of it was going to change how this went.
He’d made his feelings on the subject clear. As much as she appreciated him taking care of her the past couple weeks, and she’d allowed herself to indulge in it because, well, she’d been scared and felt alone, she knew it wasn’t sustainable.
Zoya’s phone buzzed. She checked the notification, eyes lighting up. “My friends are here. Bye Auntie!” Zoya gave Poppy a quick hug and then ran down by the river to meet her friends.
A strange stillness settled over Poppy, as if the crowd had momentarily parted to give her space to think.
She realized it was the first time she’d been alone in days, AJ had driven her everywhere, or, if she insisted on driving herself, he always found a reason to come along.
She tried to enjoy the pause, but her mind churned.
She knew he definitely wouldn’t be coming tonight. They hadn’t discussed it, but it was everything he didn’t like. Crowds. Loud noises. Bright flashing lights. This place was overstimulation on steroids.
The past week, she’d mentioned several times that she wasn’t really looking forward to the festival, but she had to go. He hadn’t offered to go with her, which meant there was no way he was showing up.
“Poppyseed!” Phoebe called, waving her arm as she headed towards Poppy. Her sister looked harried, but her eyes sparkled. “Oh my god, Finley, don’t suffocate your aunt!”
Finley had already thrown herself at Poppy, arms winding around her neck in a bear hug that nearly knocked Poppy off balance.
“You are the best Glinda I have ever seen,” Poppy declared into Finley’s curls, grinning as she set her niece down.
Wicked was Finley’s current obsession, and she could recite every line, every song.
Tonight, she’d insisted on a full face of glitter, and it had migrated down her cheeks like fairy dust.
Phoebe adjusted the carrier straps, then nodded at Zoya’s absence. “Where’s your shadow?”
“Off plotting world domination with her minions.”
“There’s Rohan and Ravi!” Ezra, who was dressed as Fortnite with his twin Elan, pointed down the street to their cousins.
Poppy and Phoebe turned and saw their sisters Lina and Pippa walking towards them with Pippa’s six-year-old son, Freddie, who was dressed as a ninja zombie, and Zoya’s brothers, Rohan and Ravi, who were dressed as their favorite anime characters.
“Can we go now?!” Elan pleaded.
“Yes,” Phoebe released her sons. “Be back here at nine. Not a second later.”
The boys shot away from them like their hair was on fire.
“Are we really that bad?” Poppy smiled.
“Yeah, just wait till you have ki—” Phoebe stopped herself mid-word. She had a self-diagnosed case of foot-in-mouth disease. She continued on, saying, “As soon as they hit double digits, whenever we are in public, it’s as if adults are a disease they do not want to catch.”
Guilt swept over Poppy. She wanted to tell her sister that she didn’t need to feel bad that she’d mentioned her having kids. She wanted to tell her that she was, in fact, pregnant. But it was high risk, so she kept it to herself.
“Okay, are we taking the kids, or what?” Roger joined the group, handing out churros to his wife and Pippa, then offering the cylindrical sugary treat to both Phoebe and Poppy, who both declined.
“Hey!” a man’s voice shouted.
Poppy turned and saw Deacon and Tabitha. She’d invited them to join her and her siblings at the Halloween festival since he was new to town. “Hi!”
At the same time they arrived, Liam and Frankie did as well. They were greeted with a swell of ‘welcome back’ and ‘how was the honeymoon.’
“That is my brother. The one who got married,” Poppy explained the obvious. She’d talked to Deacon about the event when they discussed her moving in since it was the day before the wedding.
Deacon smiled. “I figured.”
Once everyone had greeted the returning newlyweds, Poppy made introductions.
"Guys, this is Deacon St. Claire and his daughter Tabitha. Deacon, this is my brother Liam and his wife Frankie, my sister Phoebe and her husband Duane and their daughters Bristol and Finley. My sister Pippa and her husband Roger and their son Freddie. And my sister Lina and her husband Ramesh.”
“Nice to meet you all.” Deacon waved at the group.
Poppy could feel the scrutiny of familial stares but prayed he didn’t pick up on it.
There was absolutely nothing going on between her and Deacon.
He was an objectively attractive man. Six foot something, square jaw covered in stubble, green eyes, brown hair.
He was a single father who adored his child, and he was rich.
As the saying goes, “What’s not to love?
” But there was absolutely zero chemistry.
Nothing. Nada. She had more chemistry with her work wife, Carmen.
“We’re going to go get some hot chocolate. Guy’s take the kids to bob for apples,” Phoebe instructed the husbands.
Compliant as always, Roger led the pack, grabbing Bristol while everyone else took a little’s hand, and they started down the path to the barrels of apples.
No sooner had the women stepped in the line than the spotlight was pointed in Poppy’s direction.
Phoebe immediately stepped into her role as the inquisition specialist. “So, Popsi,” she began, “where have you been hiding out? We text, we call…no response for days. We started to think you’d been abducted by a mob boss, or a rival motorcycle gang, or an alien overlord, or something.
” Phoebe’s voice was bright but edged, designed to draw out the truth through sheer persistence.
“I think maybe you have been reading too many romance novels.”
“Have I?” Phoebe narrowed her eyes. “Because, correct me if I’m wrong, did you not just take the position as a live-in nanny for a precocious five-year-old of a hot, single, billionaire dad?”
“No, I don’t live with him. I live in the back house, and that’s not…”
Her sisters and Frankie, who was now officially her sister-in-law, all stared at her, and she didn’t know what to say.
They were so wrong, but how could she tell them that?
If her life was a romance trope, it was one-night-stand fail, surprise baby, or best friend’s little sister.
If Liam and AJ were best friends, which they both said that they were the best men the other knew, and neither was very expressive, so that was about as effusive as it got.
“I see how it looks, but it’s really not like that. At all. At all,” she emphasized.
They made it to the front of the line, and Poppy was happy for a brief reprieve as they placed their orders.
“Okay. Well, what about that guy Steve, or Stevie, you were seeing? What happened to him?” Phoebe asked as they all grabbed their drinks from the window.
“I have a lot going on with school and the house. I’m just taking a break from men,” Poppy declared as she turned around right into AJ.