Chapter 31
Chapter 31
P oppy and Sully settled into marriage as if it was what they’d intended to do all along. And the town let them. No one brought up their earlier denials or the fact that they’d lived apart the last five months, insisting they were only friends. If anyone suspected their arrangement was due to insurance, no one let on.
Sully and Poppy were content to play the same game, to never mention their future outside the baby’s birth, to never mention their past apart, when they’d been adamant they weren’t together. Neither of them knew exactly where the other stood, and both were too afraid to find out. And they were busy. If Sully thought Poppy would slow after the threat of impoverishment was over, he was mistaken. If anything, she seemed to be working harder. But suddenly the Cortez family was on the move and he was too distracted and swamped to comment.
“Honey, I’m home,” Sully announced, letting himself in the front door. He paused to sort the mail, smiling when he saw the first piece of post with Poppy’s name on it. He had wondered how he would handle the actuality of a sudden roommate, and so far he loved it. The house had never felt cozier or more alive.
“Darling,” Poppy exclaimed, appearing in the doorway in time to toss her arms around him. It was their standard greeting, started as a joke the first day. Now, a few weeks later, both of them secretly loved it but kept up the pretense of a joke for the sake of pride.
“How’s my little woman?” Sully asked, picking her up in a swallowing hug and burying his face in her neck. Vanilla. Sugar. Butter. Pecans. Poppy.
“Enthralled with my big, strong man.” She kissed his cheek and hugged his neck. “You’re sounding a bit breathless there, Ranger.”
“It’s because I’m filled to the brim with affection for you,” he said.
She laughed and wriggled free. “Liar. It’s because I’m the size and shape of a baby elephant now.”
“A sexy baby elephant,” he said, leaning forward to kiss her, hands on bump. It was a good thing his arms were long, otherwise he soon wouldn’t be able to reach her. “How was your day?”
“You’re not going to believe what happened,” she said, gripping his hands.
“What?” he asked, gripping hers in return.
“I made pie, and then…”
“And then?” he asked with feigned suspense.
She leaned in to whisper. “And then I sold it.”
He gasped. “Sounds like an adventure.”
“Actually there was a bit of drama today. There was only one piece left right before I closed and Mrs. Black and Mrs. Marsh both reached for it at the same time.”
“Please don’t tell me my former Sunday school teacher and the town’s oldest librarian came to fisticuffs over your pie.”
“Sully, you know what I did?”
“What?” he asked, preemptively amused.
“I cut the piece in half and split it between them,” she said.
“You’re like Solomon.”
“Your wife is wise,” she agreed.
He blinked at her. “Hey, you’re my wife.”
“Please don’t tell me you sustained another concussion today,” she said, pressing her hand to his forehead.
“No, but sometimes the shock of discovery knocks me off kilter,” he replied, twisting his face so he could settle a kiss on her palm. They sat down to eat supper, at the table now because Poppy insisted. If we’re going to make a go of this family thing, we’re going to have proper manners. Sully had balked at not being able to gorge ESPN while he feasted, but secretly he was pleased, both by the new rule and her implication they were a family on any sort of lasting basis.
“How was your work, you never said,” she said, sliding a piece of chicken onto his plate. She liked to say she was a baker and not a chef, but her cooking was outstanding. Lately she’d been introducing Sully to all kinds of new cuisine. Tonight’s chicken was courtesy of Morocco, cooked in a clay tagine with pearly couscous on the side.
“I’m multicultural now,” he said, holding up a piece of chicken for inspection.
“Practically Nelson Mandela,” she agreed. “Why are you stalling on answering my question?”
“Stop reading my mind, gypsy devil woman,” he said, stuffing the bite of chicken in his mouth.
She waited him out, staring him down with her ridiculous stubborn sweetness.
“Want to make out?” he asked after he swallowed.
“Tempting,” she said, leaning forward to wipe a blob of sauce from his lips. “Spill it, Langford. You’re making me antsy.”
“I can’t always tell you things about my work,” he said. Namely that things with the Cortez family were coming to a head, he could feel it.
“Believe it or not, I’m rather familiar with classified information. I spent half my life believing my father was a retired missionary, only to learn he’s an active duty secret keeper. This doesn’t feel like that. What aren’t you telling me?”
“Some assignments are more dangerous than others,” he replied.
She stared down at her plate, working out his cryptic statement. “Were you on one of those today?”
“Today and for the foreseeable future,” he replied. The Cortez family was lethal. They were out for blood, and they played for keeps. It was turning into an all out war, and Sully wasn’t certain they had the fire power to win.
“Huh,” Poppy said, pushing her couscous around her plate.
“What?”
“I always thought if I was with a soldier or cop, it would feel like it does when I know my dad is in danger.”
“And it doesn’t?” he guessed.
She shook her head. “Not the same at all.”
“It’s going to be okay, Poppy. Statistically…”
She yanked her hand away. “I’m not particularly interested in statistics.”
He blinked at her, surprised by the flash of anger. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m sorry,” she said, her tone much softer. “I promise to be a good cop wife and smile pretty and not think about the danger.” As proof, she gave him a cheesy grin.
“You can be a little concerned,” he said.
“How much?” she asked.
“Enough for me to comfort and distract you away from it,” he replied, sliding his hand under the hem of her skirt. She wore dresses every day she worked, and he adored it, along with everything else about her. How she was able to be so old-fashioned and girly, yet so steely and independent, was a never-ending riddle to his senses.
“Your chicken’s getting cold,” she said, returning the favor by easing her fingers under his shirt and onto his stomach.
“What chicken?” he said. No matter what else was between them, and half the time Sully didn’t know, the physical thing worked well. Ridiculously well. Off the charts, really.
She shook free of his shirt, kissed his cheek, and motioned to his plate. “Eat.”
“Tease,” he said.
“You think so?” she asked, motioning to the bump.
“How long are you going to use that against me?” he asked.
“Until she’s twenty five,” she replied.
He winced. “Someday she’s going to be twenty five. Stop it, you’re making my heart hurt.”
“Sullivan, you’re adorable,” Poppy said, happily chowing down on her chicken. Sully used the opportunity to stare at the top of her head. Sometimes everything was enough. He didn’t need answers or declarations. He had faith they’d come in time, that someday soon Poppy would realize their marriage of convenience was more, was everything.
Feeling his eyes on her, she glanced up. “What?”
“Poppy, I…” he hadn’t told her he loved her. He couldn’t, not without some assurance she might one day feel the same. Every time he tried, he remembered all the many times she’d told him they were opposites, that he was too nice for her to ever love. He thought of Diego Cortez and his stomach wrenched. She had chosen him once, his opposite, his enemy. Only for a moment, but still. In the beginning he’d been bothered because Diego targeted her. But now, since their marriage, he became more bothered over the memory of Poppy choosing Diego.
“What did you do on your date with Diego?” he blurted.
She blinked at the rapid subject change. “What?”
“Your date with Cortez, what did you do?”
“I told you.”
“Tell me again.”
“We went to an art exhibit and talked about his work.”
Sully tensed. “You talked about his work.”
She shook her head. “Not that work. His hobby. He paints.”
“He throws splatters at a canvas. I could do the same,” Sully said.
“Maybe you should,” Poppy suggested. “Might help with your rage.”
He rolled his eyes, but some of the tension had seeped out of him. “What else?”
“We went to dinner and talked.”
“What did you talk about?”
“Art again.”
“Art,” he said, using air quotes. “Guy probably believes spilled coffee should be framed and sold for a million dollars.”
“Shouldn’t it?” she said.
He opened his mouth to reply, realized she was purposely trying to provoke him, and got back on track. “What else?”
“We talked about his ex-wife and two children. I know you said he’s a cold-blooded killer, and I believe you, but he sounded genuinely remorseful over the end of his marriage. Apparently she was his high school sweetheart. I got the feeling she didn’t approve of his family. Maybe she knew or suspected what they were up to and urged him to get out. Reading between the lines, it sounded like she gave him an ultimatum and he chose the family. I can tell he still loves her. Kind of heartbreaking, really.”
“What a sad, lonely sociopath,” he said, but his mind wandered. What started out as jealousy had turned into something else. His team assumed the wife was another end to a means for Diego, but what if she wasn’t? What if Poppy’s words were true and she was a tender spot, had urged him to quit? What if they could exploit that to find a weakness? Diego was careful, so careful. But what if his decision to pursue Poppy turned out to be the cause of his own downfall?
“You’re smiling like the Grinch after he stole everybody’s presents. Kind of creepy,” she said.
“A man can’t hear that enough from the woman he’s in…marriage with,” he said, shoving a bite of chicken quickly between his lips.
So creepy, Poppy mouthed.
They finished the meal and he helped her carry their plates to the sink. “What are you doing now?” he asked.
“Washing dishes,” she said, her back to him as she began to run the water. “Why?”
“I miss you,” he stood behind her and massaged her back.
After a pause, she replied, “I miss you, too. We’ve been so busy since we got married.”
“Let’s quit our jobs. We’ll get rid of our possessions, live in one of those tiny houses,” he suggested in a whisper, his lips skimming her neck.
“Add a bunch of roommates, and I’m back in New York,” she said, sounding wistful.
Sully stiffened. “You miss New York.”
“Of course I do,” she replied.
He withdrew slightly and straightened. “I thought you were happy here.”
“Being happy here doesn’t mean I can’t miss it there,” she said. She pouted up at him. “Why did you stop kissing me? Lips on neck, please.”
“I suppose I could, since I got you knocked up. It’s the least I can do.”
“The very least,” she said, tipping her neck as he resumed kissing her.
“You’re a talented multitasker,” he noted. “I’m doing some of my best work here, and you’re still washing dishes.”
“Dishes don’t clean themselves,” she replied.
“Be cool if they did, though,” he said, switching to the other side of her neck.
“You are very good at the things,” she said, a wet glass slipping out of her fingers.
“What things,” he asked, his nose skimming her ear.
“The things, all the things,” she said, tilting to lean against him and close her eyes.
“Why, Mrs. Langford, I do believe you’re becoming incoherent.”
“That’s not, I…sh,” she said. She turned and slid her arms around him, standing on her toes for a kiss.
“What about your dishes?” he asked.
“This is why paper plates were invented,” she said. She skimmed her lips over his and pulled back. “Oh, I just remembered.”
“How to kiss? Because up to now you’ve had me fooled pretty well,” he said. He chased her lips with his, but she pulled farther back.
“No, this is serious for a minute. I got hired to do a wedding cake.”
“Excellent,” he said, settling his hands on her hips in what he dearly hoped was a suggestive arrangement.
She wriggled away. “No, wait. That wasn’t the news. After I get paid for it, guess how much I’ll have in my account.”
“How much?” he asked, suddenly tense. Any mention of her savings account had that affect on him. It felt like her emergency parachute, as if she were using it to plot a future escape.
“Twenty thousand dollars.”
“Wow, great.”
She settled onto the flats of her feet, deflating slightly. “I thought you’d be a bit more excited.”
“No, I am, but, Poppy, you know my money is your money now. You don’t have to keep plowing money into an account like the world is ending or something.” He let her go to shove a hand through his hair.
“Of course I do,” she said.
“What? Why?”
“Because…” she glanced away in frustration, apparently trying to choose her words. In the end, she chose the wrong ones. “I can’t be dependent on you for everything.”
“You’re not dependent on me for anything,” he said.
She spread her arms wide. “Are you joking? Look where I am, in your house, in your town, wearing your ring, sporting your name. There’s hardly anything left of Poppy. All I have is my job and my account.”
He took a step back. “I guess I was delusional enough to believe we’re building something together here, a family.”
“We are, but…” she rubbed a hand over her face. “If the situation were reversed, if you had to give up being a Ranger and move with me to New York, to give up on your dreams, your hopes, your friends, everything you’ve worked for your whole life, do you think it would be easy? That you’d settle in with aplomb and a plucky attitude? I mean, I’m trying my best here, Sully, but some days…” She trailed off and glanced helplessly out the window.
“Some days, what? You want to run away?”
“Some days. But…”
“Well, that’s great, Poppy. A few more months and you’ll be free.” He motioned to the bump.
“That’s a terrible thing to say,” she replied.
“Is it as bad as telling your husband you can’t wait to leave?” he asked.
“That’s not what I said, not at all. It’s like you’re intentionally mishearing me.”
“Or maybe I’m finally listening,” he said.
They stared at each other, an ugly silence hovering between them. A part of Sully felt like he should confess everything—his feelings, his desire to stay together long after she stopped needing his insurance. But pride held him in check, pride and hurt.
She mustered a deep breath. “Sully…”
His phone beeped, doing nothing to lessen the tension and suspense. He reached for it, his frown deepening. “It’s work. I have to go.”
“Do you really?” she asked.
With a scowl, he turned the phone to show her the message from his lieutenant. Need you. ASAP.
She swallowed hard. “I’m sorry, Sully. I shouldn’t have said that. This went somewhere I didn’t intend, somewhere I didn’t want it to go. I’m frustrated and upset and I wish you could stay so we could work it out.”
“Me too,” he agreed. It was a terrible time to leave. Sully felt like if he walked out the door this minute, she might not be there when he returned. He forced himself to step forward and cup her cheek. “I promise we’ll fix it when I get back, okay?”
She nodded, sniffling a little.
“Don’t cry, please. I can’t leave if you cry.”
“You should have thought of that before you married a pregnant basket case,” she said, swiping impatiently at her eyes. She clutched his shirt and rested her forehead on his chest. He tipped her chin and kissed her, long and deep.
“Huh, what do you know. That makes it harder to leave, too.” That earned a little smile. He kissed her cheek, grabbed his bag, and walked out of the house. Poppy stared at the open door, feeling empty and deflated. It was going to be a long and lonely night.