Chapter 30
Chapter 30
B ailey made it by flying Cal’s plane. And not only did she stop and pick up Sully’s mother and step-father along the way, she somehow convinced Cal to come along, Cal, who hated flying more than anything and had never taken a spin in his own plane before.
“Insane woman,” Cal muttered, leaning against the wall of the courthouse for support. Everyone who passed by stopped to stare at him. Sully wasn’t certain if it was because he was famous or because they’d never seen a six and a half foot tall man the color of wallpaper paste.
“How’d she get you to come along?” Sully asked.
“She threatened to come without me. Who flies a plane five months pregnant with high blood pressure? My insane wife, that’s who.” He sucked oxygen through his nose a few minutes, dabbing his cold and clammy forehead with the back of his sleeve.
“In any case, thanks for being here. I’m going to need a best man,” Sully said.
Cal reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “Good luck, and I mean that. You’re going to need it. Entire family’s insane.” He took another breath that ended on a snicker. “I swear,” he muttered, pressing his hand over his eyes.
Bailey, thinking ahead to Poppy’s comfort, had brought along makeup and a fancy dress, so the women were helping Poppy get ready. When it was their turn, they emerged and Sully stopped short. Working in food service meant she always wore her hair up. It was as wild and untamed as its owner, and almost always popping free of its confinement. But he had never seen it down before, as it was now. It tumbled down her shoulders in soft curls, landing in graduated layers below her collarbone. Sully had no idea if she wore more makeup than usual or her cheeks were naturally flushed, eyes big and dewy. All he knew was that no one on earth had ever looked more beautiful. He was rooted to the spot with awe, so much that Cal used his oversized boot to kick him in the calf, giving him a nudge toward Poppy, his bride.
“Oh, wow,” he whispered. It was all he could manage, short of breath as he was now and would likely always be.
“Last chance to back out and run away,” Poppy offered.
He shook his head and crooked his finger, beckoning her forward, mostly because his legs lacked the ability to move. Poppy did so, coming to a halt directly in front of him. And then he was lost for words. What he wanted to blurt was how much he loved her, how much he had longed for this moment, how happy he was. But their family was very nearby and staring, weepy smiles on their faces. In lieu of words, he brushed his finger on her cheek.
She smiled harder. “Is this magical enough for you?” Her eyes slid around them, taking in the old and dank courthouse.
“The magicest,” he said, leaning forward to brush a light kiss on her lips.
The ceremony was short and to the point, and then he kissed her again. They went to the restaurant of Poppy’s choosing for lunch, along with his parents and Bailey and Cal. Poppy ordered all the desserts on the menu, and Cal insisted on picking up the tab. He seemed in good spirits until it was time to go back to the airport and then his fingers wouldn’t let go of the door.
“I can’t,” he said, as close to keeling over as anyone had ever seen him.
“You don’t have to,” Bailey said. “I’ll meet you at home.” She pressed her palm to his cheek and took a step toward the plane. He grabbed her back.
“I don’t want you to go without me,” Cal said.
“Cal, you’re being silly. Waverly and Joe will be with me.” Bailey motioned to Sully’s mother and step-father.
“I can do it,” Cal said. He took a step away from the truck, but his hand still gripped the door and yanked himself back.
“This is nuts,” Poppy interjected. “Sully will fly back with Bailey, Cal will ride with me.”
“But…” Cal started to interrupt.
“I said you’re riding with me,” Poppy decreed, hands on hips.
“You know, I’m starting to see the resemblance between you and Bailey now,” Cal said, but he looked relieved. Sully tossed him the keys to his truck.
Later, he mouthed to Poppy. She gave him a nod and smile, and they went their separate ways.
“Sorry,” Cal apologized once they were safely in the truck. “Not exactly the start to your honeymoon you envisioned. Probably thought your brother-in-law wouldn’t be involved at all.”
“Nothing has ever been normal in our family,” Poppy said, waving away his apology with flick of her fingers. “It was nice of you guys to come, nice of Bailey to Facetime my parents into the wedding.”
“We wouldn’t have missed it. Even me, with my idiotic fear of flying. You and Sully are important to us, and we’re happy for you, so happy.” She stared out the window with a vague smile. “You’re happy, aren’t you, Poppy?”
“How could I not be happy? Sully’s the best,” she replied, turning her gaze to the window again.
Cal stared thoughtfully through the window, a slight frown on his face. Understanding Bailey had given him zero insight into Poppy. The two sisters were as different as night and day. One thing he knew for certain, though, he hoped she did a better job of conveying her joy to Sully than she did to him.
I t took no time at all to fly back to Cal’s ranch and all the time in the world to drive his parents an hour home. Sully was impatient to see Poppy, not only because he missed her, but because he was afraid of what her brain might come up with in the interim. Panic? Regret? Denial?
When he walked into his house and didn’t see her, his heart plummeted. She had gone to her house. He would have to go get her. But as he headed toward the door with a hefty amount of dread, she pushed it open, overloaded suitcase in hand. “Oh, hi, you’re home,” she said, using the back of her hand to push the hair off her face. She had changed clothes but left her hair down. Currently she wore one of the three hoodies she had stolen from him, this one from his days in training as a trooper. He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life, but his body came to a grinding halt with the realization that they hadn’t established exactly how that part of their marriage would play out. His glance darted up the stairs, back to her, and then away.
Poppy giggled. “Subtle, Ranger.”
He let out a laugh, took off his hat, and rifled his fingers through his hair. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Sure you didn’t.”
“Would you listen to me a minute, you little imp. This isn’t exactly a normal arrangement, and we didn’t discuss anything beforehand. What I’m trying to say is that I’ll not hold you to anything, not pressure you into anything you’re not comfortable with.”
She still stood in the doorway, and it was open. He could only hope his words hadn’t been loud enough to carry and, if so, the neighbors wouldn’t take his meaning. “Hmm,” she said, studying him like a bug under a rock. At the moment he felt like one, exposed and squirmy. She closed the door with her foot, set her suitcase aside, marched forward, clasped his hand, and led him up the stairs to his bedroom.
Once there, she closed the door and pushed him down to a sitting position on the bed, standing in front of him, hands on hips. And then she stayed that way, seemingly waiting for him to speak.
“What’s going on?” His voice was unmistakably ragged.
“You abandoned me the very second we got married and practically told me you’d be willing to have a marriage in name only. It seems to me, Sullivan, that I’m going to have to show you exactly how a wife should be treated.” She pushed him back onto the bed and climbed up on his stomach, straddling it.
Sully, whose heart began to beat with a tremendous amount of hope, captured her hands in his and pulled her closer, pressing her chest to his. “Be gentle, would you? I’m a slow learner.”
“No guarantees,” she said, and kissed him.
Later, they were curled together in their go-to position, her back to his front, only this time they were in his bed. Sully was ridiculously glad not to have to camouflage his raging attraction to her anymore, not that he’d ever been able to, anyway. But at least now he didn’t have to feel bad about it. She was his wife, for the foreseeable future until the baby was born, and forever after that, if he could help it.
She held his hand between both hers, inspecting it as she usually did. “What are you thinking when you do that?” he asked. He wanted to know all the things that went on in her mind.
“I’m thinking you have nice hands, big and calloused, but also gentle and tender. They’re representative of you, I think.”
He flipped her hand, making his own exploration. “Yours too, I’d say. They’re small and soft and feminine but able to snap you with their strength.” Her hands were freakishly strong from working dough all day. Her fingers maintained the toughest grip of any woman he’d ever known. He brushed his lips over her knuckles. “Poppy.”
“Mm,” she replied, sounding sleepy.
“What did George say to you before he left?”
She rolled onto her back and stared up at him. He could feel her mental debate, feel her waging war with herself about whether or not to tell him. Her right hand eased to her left middle finger, twiddling her new ring. “He said he’s wanted to marry me for as long as he’s known my name, that he used to sneak into Sasha’s room and read my letters and picture me. And when he met me, I looked exactly like he imagined. Then we started being roommates, and it seemed like a sign, an omen. He said he was crushed when I moved away, and it strengthened his resolve even more for us to be together. And then he came here and saw the two of us together and…”
Sully felt like his life hung in the balance. “And what?” he prompted.
“And he realized I wasn’t his. And he realized the person he always thought I was was merely a figment of his imagination, a projection of who he wanted me to be. What I said was true; he and I never spent any time together, never got to know each other. He apologized for putting so much on me, for making me feel bad for something that was out of my control, mostly his illusions and expectations of me. He wished us well and kissed my cheek goodbye.”
Sully was quiet a few beats before he spoke. “Good guy, George,” he said at last, snuggling her against him once more.
She laughed as she wriggled closer. “I’ve always thought so.” They lay in peaceful silence a few more minutes, but neither was ready to go to sleep. “Sully.”
“Mm.”
“What were you thinking that night?” She rolled over to see his face again. “In the gazebo. Now that I know you, it seems so out of character.”
His finger trailed over her face, his eyes tracing the path it made. “One night when I was a kid, a few months after my dad was killed, my mom let me stay up late to watch a meteor shower. It was so cloudy, I couldn’t see a thing. And then, at the very end, when I was about to go inside and give up, the clouds broke, and I saw one perfect shooting star, a ball of fire, streaking toward earth. It looked so close, like I could catch it, if I tried hard enough. So I took off, my mom yelling behind me to come back, that I was barefoot, that I’d step on a rattler. I ignored her and sprinted harder because I was convinced if I could only catch that star when it fell, everything would be better again. My dad would come back, my mom would stop crying, the farm would stop going under. I ran and ran and ran, arms outstretched, reaching.
“And when I saw you sitting in that gazebo, all sparkle and sass and dimples, it felt a little like that night, like when the clouds broke and I saw the star. And then you kissed me. And when you pulled away, it felt like that night again, like I needed to chase after it with my arms outstretched, trying to catch a bit of magic before it went away.”
“Looks like you caught it,” she said, breathless.
“At last,” he whispered, pressing her into the bed and kissing her again and again.