Chapter 5
Chapter 5
“ A re you really a cowboy?” George asked as Poppy returned to the room.
“Forgot my clothes,” she interjected with a sheepish smile.
“Poppy, are you okay?” George asked her.
“Fine, I’m fine,” she assured him, rooting through her portion of their shared closet.
“I’m not a cowboy. I’m a Ranger,” Sully said, answering the earlier question.
“A Ranger, huh? I’ve heard of you guys,” George replied. His accent was native New York and heavy.
“Of course you have, George. They’re iconic, ” Poppy said in a falsely awed whisper.
“Much like the NYPD,” George agreed.
She turned to face him. “How are they comparable?”
“How, indeed,” George said, grinning.
“Poppy thinks I’m a park ranger,” Sully explained.
George laughed. “Oh, Poppy.”
“What?” she asked, clueless.
“Park ranger is to Texas Ranger as Wonder bread is to brioche,” George explained.
“Wow,” Poppy said, staring at Sully with a slightly awed expression.
“Okay, now someone’s going to have to explain the analogy in reverse to me,” Sully said.
“Over breakfast,” Poppy promised. “Back in a bit.” She disappeared, leaving awkwardness in her wake.
“I’ll wait out here,” Sully said, easing from the room. But he forgot there were four other people inhabiting the living room as sleeping space. With nowhere else to go, he sat outside the bathroom, waiting for Poppy to finish with her shower. He was prepared for a long wait, but ten minutes later, the door opened so that he had to catch himself before he tumbled inside.
“Oh,” Poppy said, stopping short at the sight of him.
“You’re fast,” he said, standing.
“House rules. With so many people waiting to get in, you can’t linger. Thankfully my hair dries okay on its own. I’m fairly low maintenance, thanks to growing up in Africa.” She fluffed her wet hair a couple of times and grabbed her purse.
Despite the apparent lack of effort in her appearance, she looked good—lovely and fresh in a feminine floral dress. She was a girly girl, much more than Bailey. Her figure was fuller, but pleasantly so. Sully was of the persuasion that women should look like women, with curves and soft planes. There would never be any mistaking Poppy for a man. Unfortunately for him, he knew exactly how those curves felt beneath his fingers. His face flushed, and he fought the urge to reach for her. Last night they had been too busy talking to think of much else. Now, however, it was hard not to remember and realize. He knew this woman intimately, and she was having his child. And yet she was a stranger, confusing to say the least.
“Where are you taking me?” he asked as they reached the sidewalk.
“For bagels, the quintessential New York breakfast. I have a friend from culinary school who’s doing amazing things with teff and spelt.” As if speaking about it increased her energy, she clasped his hand and urged him forward, hurrying him along. They arrived in a tiny, nondescript building, basically a hole in the wall, that inside smelled of fresh bread and yeast. Sully took a big breath, enjoying the homey smell. Poppy expelled a breath, grimacing, and once again pressing her hand to her abdomen.
“Will anything help?” Sully asked.
“I have no idea, but lemonade sounds amazing right now,” she said. They ordered bagels and lox and coffee for him, tea with lemon for her.
“Not a coffee fan?” he asked.
She gave him a look.
“What?” he asked.
“No caffeine when you’re pregnant,” she said.
“Oh,” he drawled. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. But I’m having withdrawal and it’s making me a bit cranky. Or maybe it’s the hormones, I don’t know. All I know is that I feel sick and tired and miserable and kind of stabby, and it’s only the beginning.”
“I really am sorry,” he reiterated.
“We share the blame equally, I think,” she said.
“Except you totally kissed me first,” he said.
“Oh, no, you did not go there. I was trying to leave like a good girl when you kissed me, preventing me from escaping to safety.”
“Yes, but you were the one who…”
She touched her fingers to his lips. “We should probably not.” He kissed her fingers. “You stop that.”
“Why? It’s not like we’re going to get more pregnant,” he said, grinning when she picked up her napkin and began to fan herself.
“Have mercy. Definitely remembering why I kissed you to begin with,” she said.
“You forgot?”
“I saw you once three weeks ago so, yes, pardon me for forgetting,” she said.
“Strange, I remember you in vivid detail,” he said.
“Are you flirting with me right now?”
He shrugged. “After I knocked you up, it’s the least I could do.”
“The very least,” she said and their food arrived. To her surprised delight, she was able to eat an entire bagel with cream cheese and salmon.
“Salmon on a bagel,” he said, scowling in disgust.
“And it’s basically raw,” she said, pausing to stare at it. “I wonder if I’m allowed to eat this.”
“I’ll check,” he said, withdrawing his phone.
“Ungh,” she said, stuffing down the last of the bagel before he could look it up.
“I take it you’d rather not know,” he said.
She shook her head and swallowed the giant mouthful. “It’s the first thing that’s sounded appetizing in three days. I’d rather not know how many ways it could harm me or our child.”
Now it was his turn to shudder.
“Because I said ‘our child’?” she guessed.
He nodded. “Going to take a while to get used to hearing that. While I have my phone out, I think I should make arrangements to stay at a hotel.”
“If you like,” she said.
“Hmm, I kind of expected more of a protest,” he said.
“It’s a free country,” she replied, stealing a sip of his coffee. He punched a few things in his phone and began to scroll.
“How can every space be filled?” he mused, continuing to scroll. “Wait, here we go.” He leaned in close. “Five hundred dollars? Can that be right?”
“Space is at a premium. If it were that cheap and easy, I’d rent a room every night,” she said. She rested her hand on his. “Just stay with me. It’s not that big a deal.”
He turned over his phone. “It would seem I don’t have a choice.”
“Try not to sound so thrilled.”
“It’s extremely unlike my life,” he said. “I don’t cohabitate with anyone, male or female. I haven’t since I left home years ago.”
“It’s not unusual here. Unless you make high six figures or live in The Boroughs, you have to have roommates, usually lots of them. It’s called a housing crisis, and I’m living proof of it.”
“Why do you do it?”
“Where else am I going to go? This is the food capital of the country, if not the world. I could go back to Paris, but my French is lousy.”
“You’ve lived in Paris?”
“Six months post-culinary school. Any pastry chef worth her salt needs to do a stint in Paris.”
“I’ve never lived outside Texas.”
She looked down, stirring her tea.
“What?” he prompted.
“I thought maybe you could move here. We could be roommates, raise the baby together here.”
He blinked at her, trying to say what he needed to say without being offensive. “I’m a Ranger, a Texas Ranger. The Texas portion of that is rather imperative.”
“But if that’s like some kind of police officer, couldn’t you do that here? Like George?”
“It’s difficult to explain to you without you understanding what a Ranger is. It’s a big deal, kind of prestigious, sort of non-transferable. I worked for years to get where I am, started as a trooper, put in tons of extra time and training. Plus there’s the fact that I’m not a city boy. I’m country, through and through. I have zero, let me reiterate, zero interest in ever living here. Even visiting here didn’t appeal to me. I’m only here so we could have a face-to-face discussion. Plus the same reasons you don’t want to marry me are the same reasons I don’t want to be your roommate.”
“I guess I see your point. Rather, your multitude of points. We seem to be at an impasse,” she said.
“Can I ask you a question?” he said. He picked up a straw wrapper and tied it into a knot. “I get that George is in love with you. I guess I need to know up front and right now if you’re in love with him.”
She blinked at him. “What are you talking about? George isn’t in love with me.”
“Yes, yes he is,” Sully said.
She shook her head. “We’re friends and quasi roommates. I see him a few minutes in the morning to handoff the bed, and that’s it. Occasionally we text throughout the day or leave each other notes. This year we exchanged Christmas presents, and I mean literally exchanged. He left one on the bed for me, and I left one for him. Otherwise, we have little to no contact with each other.”
“You know the last woman I bought a Christmas present for besides my mom?” he said.
“Who?”
He said nothing for a minute then, “That’s who.”
“Maybe he’s nicer and more generous than you are,” she suggested.
“Nope. Just do me a favor and let me know if you two officially start dating. This is an awkward new world we’re in, and I’d prefer there not to be any surprises.”
“I guess then the same goes for you.”
“I don’t actually date that often anymore. It’s such a hassle,” he said. “The setup, the excitement, the letdown.”
“Despite how much I want to make fun of you right now for sounding girlier than I do, I agree with you. I haven’t dated anyone since I was in culinary school a few years ago. And my schedule is so crazy. I work six days a week, ten hour shifts, including every weekend.”
“That’s insane,” he said. “You can’t possibly keep that up.”
“I know,” she said, sighing. “But I love my job. It’s not a huge restaurant, but it’s up and coming. There’s been buzz about it, about me. My boss has given me a lot of freedom and creativity. It’s a dream job for me, a stepping stone to something huge. There aren’t a lot of rock stars in the pastry world, hardly any that anyone outside the food world would recognize. We get looked down on a lot for not being real chefs, but baking takes just as much skill and talent as cooking.”
“I believe you,” he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender.
“Sorry,” she said, sipping her tea. “I get a bit impassioned about it.”
“It’s cute,” he said, touching his fingers to hers. She threaded her fingers through his and smiled. He smiled in return. The moment lasted as a hum of tension buzzed between them, confusing them both. They were each in uncharted territory with no idea how to categorize each other or their situation.
The owner of the shop arrived at their table, saving them from further action or conversation. Poppy let go of Sully and stood to hug the newcomer. “The bagels are fantastic,” she gushed.
“Thank you. You still at the place?”
“Yes, and, keep it on the down low, but I’m looking for someplace with better pay, more solid hours, Katelyn.”
Katelyn laughed. “Poppy, if I could find something like that, I’d take it myself.” She gave Poppy another hug. “It’s rough out there.”
“Yes it is,” Poppy agreed. They talked for another minute about spelt, whatever that was, and then Katelyn returned to her kitchen and Poppy sat down. “Is Sully short for something?”
“Sullivan.”
“That’s cute, I like it. Tell me, Sullivan, are you ready for the full New York experience?”
“Yes, Poppy, I am. Is Poppy short for something?”
“Poppisandra,” she said.
He tried not to grimace. “Really?”
“No, it’s just Poppy, like the flower. My mom loves them.” She stood and led the way outside, Sully in her wake.