Chapter 24
Chapter 24
T hat evening began a new normal for Poppy and Sully. They weren’t together, they were clear on that. But another layer of intimacy had been added between them. No longer did they confine themselves to separate ends of the couch and a friendly wave goodbye. Now they spread out on the couch, their legs overlapping as they took turns rubbing each other’s feet. No one Sully dated had ever rubbed his feet before. It turned out he liked it as much as Poppy did, which was to say a lot. Sometimes they shifted positions. He lay behind her and rubbed her back, but more often when they were in that position one or both of them fell asleep, cleaved together like yin and yang, his arm around her waist, one hand tucked between both of hers.
Poppy had become as familiar to him as his own body. He could tell with a grimace or a twinge when a part of her hurt, when she felt exhausted or stressed or frustrated. And yet it was a false intimacy, forced by the bond of mutual and surprising parenthood. At the end of the evening, she still went home to her own place, still maintained a barrier between them, still held on to whatever kept them from being together, kept them from being one. Sully could never figure out if he was relieved or upset by that. In some ways, he had the best of both worlds. Poppy was there when he wanted her and went home when he didn’t. Except the more time they spent together, there were fewer instances when he didn’t want her. Increasingly it hurt to see her leave at the end of the day. He began to dread the point in the evening when she would glance at the clock and unfurl herself from his couch, intending to head home. It hurt, physically hurt, to see her walk away. On the other hand, he had no idea how to make her stay. He had proposed twice. What more was there?
He still pondered as Easter approached. They would spend the holiday at Cal and Bailey’s ranch, along with Sully’s family. It wasn’t such an unusual thing that his family had been included in the celebration, seeing as how they’d all been friends for years. But he knew it was Bailey’s sneaky way of pushing everything together. Sully wasn’t certain if he should be grateful or resentful. Poppy, who took orders of pies, cakes, and cookies for the big day, was too stressed to do anything more than roll her eyes when Sully addressed the issue of Bailey’s matchmaking between them.
“Why do you think I resisted moving closer to my family for so long?” she said, making what had to be her fifteenth batch of cookie dough for the evening and sticking it in the freezer. “Oh, hey, guess what?”
By her buoyant tone, he knew it was going to be something good. He smiled in anticipation. “What?”
“One of my best friends is coming to visit for Easter.”
“That’s awesome. Who is it?” he asked, swiping a blob of dough from the mixer paddle before she could wash it.
“Sasha,” she said absently, turning her back to him.
He studied her back. By now he knew all her body language. By the tense set of her shoulders, he knew there was more she held back. “Poppy, what?”
She swallowed hard. “Nothing. It’s just…Sasha is George’s sister.” She let out a shaky little breath. “I wasn’t sure she would still be speaking to me, considering how much I apparently hurt him. I’m relieved and trepidatious.”
“You think she’s coming here to ream you?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Sasha travels a ton, doesn’t get a lot of time off to be with family. It feels a little ominous that she’s choosing to spend Easter with me.”
It felt ominous to Sully, too, but for different reasons. He didn’t believe this Sasha person was coming to let Poppy have it. Rather it felt like she was coming to try and fix things. That’s what he would do if something went wrong in his sibling’s life; he would travel as far as he needed to go and do whatever he saw fit to make it right. Sasha was coming to go to bat for George; Sully could feel it in his bones. The question in his mind was what Poppy’s response would be.
Danger, danger, danger. He could feel it, suddenly, as if someone were waving a red flag in front of him. Something was coming, something with the power to take Poppy away from him, possibly forever. Hadn’t The Colonel warned him that George wasn’t done with Poppy? Maybe this was his pitch, sending his sister in to soften her up before he made his own move.
Swallowing down a lump of dread that tasted like acid, he eased forward and began rubbing the small of her back with both hands. She turned to mush, as she always did, setting aside the bowl she’d been cleaning and leaning both hands on the counter for support.
“You’re going to get tired of being my masseuse,” she whispered.
“Not likely,” he said, his hands smoothing from her back to her front, offering support to the ligaments there that were also starting to pull taut and ache. “Besides, it’s good practice for labor.”
“Sully, I don’t know,” she whispered, eyes still closed. “It’s so incredibly intimate.”
“I was there for the making of this baby; I should be there for the delivery, too,” he pointed out, easing his hands back to her spine and then toward her navel again.
“I’m going to be…” she started and trailed off.
“Going to be what, honey?” he asked.
She swallowed hard and faced him. His hands had been smoothing toward her navel again, so that when she turned they met at her spine. He kept them there, circling her in his embrace. He tucked his elbows in and eased her closer, lining her body up with his. Her arms had goosebumps, as they always did when he massaged her. He eyed them and pressed back a smile. He had as much of an effect on her as she had on him, even if neither of them was willing to admit it.
“I’m going to be exposed and helpless, more than I’ve ever been before. If we do that, if we go there, what if there’s no coming back?”
She looked so incredibly vulnerable. In that moment he realized anew how easy it would be to break her, to do permanent damage with his words or actions. He had to tread carefully, more so than ever before. Now was not the time to play around. He brought his hands forward and used them to cup her face. His thumbs smoothed gently over her cheekbones.
“I want to be there for me, obviously, but mostly I want to be there for you, to support you and care for you in every possible way. And, Poppy, I have a feeling you’re going to need and want me there, hard as that may be for you to imagine. You and I have built something these last few months. I don’t know exactly what it is, but I know it’s real and deep. We’re in this together, all the way. I want to be the person you hold on to, the person who gives you strength, at least in that moment.”
“In that moment,” she repeated, turning the words over as if they held some significance. Then she drew in a sharp breath and pressed her head to his chest.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Braxton-Hicks, I think. Ouch.”
His hands migrated to the baby. He felt her body contract and become hard a couple of seconds and then release. And then the baby kicked against his hand, bubbling little flutters.
Sully froze. “Did…”
“You felt that, right?” Poppy said, now beaming at him.
He nodded, his face a mask of wonder. Both hands were on the bump now, skimming over it, waiting and hoping for another nudge. One came, and then another and another.
“He has the hiccups,” Poppy said, smiling. Her hand covered his.
“He?” Sully said.
“Or she. It’s easier to say he than try and make a genderless distinction each time.” She stared thoughtfully at her stomach. “I guess next week we’ll know for certain.”
Sully’s heart sped up and turned over. “Wow.”
“Very much wow,” Poppy agreed. She beamed down at their little miracle, both dimples so deep he could probably poke his fingers in her cheeks and make his knuckles disappear. Her hair tumbled forward, obscuring his view, and he pushed it jealously out of the way. Poppy was sparkle and sunshine, a riot of color and warmth. Sully felt like vanilla pudding when he was in her nearness. How had he never realized how bland his life had become?
“After the doctor appointment next week, let’s go out,” he said.
Now her smile tipped in his direction, turning coy. Poppy was all the adjectives: coy, bright, vivacious, sparkly, vibrant, fizzy. She had none of Bailey’s steely reserve. Sometimes he thought one of their eggs must have been switched in the nest but, not knowing their mother, he couldn’t say for certain which one.
“What did you have in mind, Ranger?”
What he had in mind and what he could safely say to her were vastly different things. “I’ll plan something, Baker Poppy.”
Her eyes brightened, her slightly tipped nose tipping farther with pleasure. Her face was an exaggeration of everything feminine: lush mouth, dazzling eyes, deep cupid’s bow, upturned nose. The smattering of freckles across the bridge did nothing to lessen his fascination with her features. His fingers itched to touch her freckles, and so he did, easing his finger gently along the apex of her nose.
“Make it epic,” she whispered, and he grinned.
“Why must you challenge me in all the ways?”
Her smile dimmed, a lid extinguishing a candle flame. “My lot in life is to challenge the people I hold most dear.”
“Want to know a secret?” he asked, using this thumb to tip her face back to his.
“What?” she said, some of her sparkle making a return.
He leaned closer and whispered in her ear. “I love it. Keeps me on my toes.”
“These toes?” she asked. Together they stared down at his leather cowboy boots. They were a source of constant amusement for her. We could not be more different if we tried, she was fond of telling him. We’re the city mouse and the country mouse. Opposites in every way.
Sully thought it was a good thing, the differences between them. “Opposites attract, Poppisandra.”
She glanced up at him, her smile sliding away again and ending in a little shudder. “Until they don’t, Sullivan.”