Twenty-One
“R eady?”
Kombucha was an acquired taste. The first time Ali had tried it, he wasn’t expecting something that smelled so funky to actually be palatable. Poppy looked skeptical and cute as she tried not to breathe in the initial whiff of vinegar.
She had on a pair of incredibly short denim shorts that showcased her long legs. A T-shirt printed with Edward Robert Hughes’s Midsummer Eve ’s moon fairy completed her look. It was all he could do to keep his hands off her. The shirt, the kombucha brewing shed, Poppy... They were drawing him back to that night on the Tor.
He’d truly believed his life had changed when he put hands on Stephen, but the truth was, that had only been an awakening. He’d found his path on that long walk up the Tor on the magical midsummer night with Poppy.
“Did you change your mind?” Poppy asked. “You’re staring at me like...you’re not sure I’ll survive.”
“Ha ha. Of course you will. At worst, it will taste bad,” he said. “Want me to go first?”
“No. We agreed to do it at the same time.” She held her free hand to him, and he took it, lacing their fingers together. “One.”
“Two,” he said, lifting his own bottle to his mouth.
“Three.”
She took a deep swallow, and he did the same. The taste was...not bad. Actually, he got the faint hints of strawberries and mint that Poppy had suggested they use in the last fermentation.
“Not bad,” she said. “I think we’ll beat Freddie with this one. He was determined to get summer boardwalk in his kombucha. Pretzels and all that.”
“I don’t know. Is winning important?”
She shook her head, putting down her bottle, and then put her hand against his forehead. “Seriously, did you just ask me that? Alistair Miller, who has to beat every car to the red light? The man who was determined to get the one recipe that had eluded the rest of his family?”
Yeah, that had been him. Intent on being first at the cost of everything else. “Winning doesn’t matter if you don’t have someone to share it with.”
He hadn’t meant to let those words out, but that was where he was. Who he was. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t hiding behind anger or class. Not acting like he was better than everyone else to prove he was number one. He was just Ali.
Old fears and expectations stirred. As if he wasn’t good enough without the trappings of his family, of his name.
But Poppy wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight. “This one is for both of us,” she pointed out. “You’re not alone at the top.”
Hugging her wasn’t enough, so he pulled her into his body and lifted her up onto the table, moving to stand between her legs, his mouth hot and hard on hers.
His feelings for her were bottled up inside of him, and not unlike his past anger, he felt like they were going to explode out of him. When had that ever been a good thing? He kept his mouth on hers so he didn’t blurt out how he loved her.
The past few weeks had been a good run, and now the kombucha had turned out successful. The better things were, the tighter that knot under his heart got. The one that warned him not to fuck this up. To say the right things and be the man that she was digging.
Her arms were wrapped around him, pulling him closer, when he heard the fence gate slam.
“Poppy, you back here?”
Pickle started barking from her spot in the sun on the patio. Merle.
Alistair pulled back and put Poppy back on her feet. “Later.”
She walked out of the shed to greet her cousin. Alistair stayed there for a few minutes to get himself under control and also to give them a moment together.
The animosity he’d felt toward Merle had quickly dissipated over the summer. The other man was wicked smart and very good at darts... as if those are the only things that matter , he said to himself. But they meant something. Somehow, he’d started to bond with Poppy’s little band of friends. A part of him almost believed they were his friends as well. But their loyalty would always be to Poppy...rightly so.
Which ratcheted up the pressure he felt not to fuck things up. Poppy was a big part of why he’d started to feel like this place was home. This family that was nothing like any other family he’d ever experienced.
“Hey, Ali. Poppy said I should come and try the kombucha,” Merle said from the doorway of the shed. “I’m more a Powerade and Pop-Tart kind of guy.”
“That stuff is horrible for you,” he said. “Your parents must hate that. They pretty much exude healthy vibes.”
“They do. I think that’s why I love it,” he said, taking the bottle that Ali offered him.
“Where’s Poppy?”
“Liberty’s nan’s birthday is tomorrow. When we were over there, we saw she was out of the tea Poppy made for her. It really helps her keep calm, and she loves it,” Merle said. “Poppy went to grab some.”
Ali had learned that Liberty’s nan had Alzheimer’s and that Poppy’s tea was one of the things that seemed to help keep her head clear. Nothing could cure Nan, but the tea Poppy brewed made her feel better. The WiCKed Sisters imbued everything they did with magic.
He hadn’t realized that there was real-world magic. He’d always just pictured witches from Roald Dahl’s book, the kind that turned kids into mice.
But Poppy and her friends worked together to weave a spell around the people they met. One that improved their lives. With caring and love and attention. Just being seen was the most powerful magic he’d encountered...well, that and Poppy’s affection. Which was probably why he’d been hesitating to tell her he loved her.
“Also, can I get a pony keg of your summer solstice brew? I’m running D the rosé was flowing, and they were listening to Train’s “Hey, Soul Sister,” which they all agreed they’d loved when they were ten. Sera’s handwriting looked the best, but Poppy didn’t read her intention. It was personal, between Sera and the universe.
For herself, she wasn’t sure what to put down. Alistair had been dominating every moon ritual since he’d first reached out to ask her to be fake married. But that had changed. And she had to come up with an intention, not a question.
What did she intend to do?
I intend to be happy and content with my relationship with Ali and to continue to grow and thrive in the shop and as a tea-blending goddess.
That worked. The tiny chains that remained wrapped around her heart loosened, and Poppy put her hands behind her, tipping her head up to the sky, imagining them falling away.
It was time.
She’d been holding on to the past no matter how many times she reassured herself she was done with it. She wasn’t. It was still there keeping her safe, because as long as fear dominated her emotions, she wouldn’t be hurt again.
The past few weeks with Ali had made her realize she couldn’t be happy either. That fear was tempering everything else, making it harder and harder to just be present.
“Done?” Liberty asked.
“Yes,” Poppy and Sera said at the same time.
“Now we are going to bathe in the light of the blue moon. Let it wash over you and know that extraordinary things are coming your way,” Liberty said. She followed that with some words that Poppy knew came from a book she sold in her part of the shop.
They turned off Train and joined hands. Chanting about no longer being alone, welcoming the unusual events that would soon be upon them. They opened the dreams kept deep in their hearts. Miracles and wonder, those were what this blue moon offered her.
It was time to shed the last of that girl who kept punishing herself for her lack of maturity and falling for a bad boy who wasn’t a good man. With the wisdom of the past and really hard long years, Poppy now understood that girl had done the best she could.
This second chance with Alistair felt like a miracle. The one thing that she would have predicted would never happen. He’d changed, he was honest with her, and as much as she was afraid to trust that he’d stay, she also hadn’t asked him to.
She had to take a risk. Ugh. But the truth was there. That life she wanted to manifest was right there at the edge of her current one. She had to jump toward him, let him catch her.
Or fall , her subconscious pointed out.
Or fall...but that would be better than living with the doubt.
Liberty was crying when she was done, and Sera had a huge smile on her face. Her friends were all in the same zone she was. Poppy and Sera swarmed around Liberty, hugging her until she hugged them back.
“Okay?”
“Yes. Just making peace with Nan’s situation. And thanking the goddess for Merle.” Liberty turned to Poppy. “You?”
“Letting go of eighteen-year-old me and finally admitting I’m ready to love again,” she said.
Sera hugged her tight. “I’m glad.”
“Me too,” Poppy admitted. “You?”
“Just envisioned my life with Wes.”
“Happily ever after?” Liberty asked.
Sera nodded.
“It’s about time. You two are a perfectly imperfect match,” Poppy said.
“Aren’t we all?”
“Yes. I think trying to be perfect or meet an expectation was the downfall of Mrs. Alistair Miller. This time, I’m just letting him see me, hairy legs and all.”
“Good for you. Merle already knew about my rough edges. I’m not like you two. I don’t know how to be proper.”
“We know,” Poppy and Sera said at the same time, and they all laughed.
They finished their bottle of rosé, then lay on their backs, looking up at the moon. The power that had started to stir in Poppy at the Tor on the eve of the summer solstice was back. It had wrapped all around her, leading her to the power that hadn’t been given to her on that night but had always been there deep inside of her.
The power she’d been afraid to admit she had. But life had forced her to use it. She’d survived and found her own way because of that strength.
It didn’t come from the bonds she formed, though they certainly helped her. The bonds were there because of that inner strength. Surrounding herself with people who resonated with her and brought out the best of her.
“I love you two,” Poppy said.
“Same,” her friends said in unison.
Now she needed to take her new knowledge and that energy from the night and use it to tell Alistair how she really felt. She had to see if this time, they could make a real go of being a couple.
It wouldn’t be easy.
But it could be perfectly imperfect. She wanted that for them, the figuring out where to live and how to blend their lives together. She knew they could do it. The couple they’d been when they married wouldn’t have survived, but this time...
Waiting for Poppy at the bottom of Hanging Hill might not be his smartest idea, but he’d decided to stop hiding. And once a decision was made, he had to act on it. He still had shitty impulse control. Something that his therapist would no doubt want him to keep working on.
Not now. Not until he told Poppy how he felt.
The first time he told her he loved her, they’d been words. Just words. There hadn’t been anything more than the most casual of feelings tied to them. At that time, he didn’t believe that love was real or that he was even able to love the way she did.
He hadn’t thought anything about them at the time. They were the words that were required to get her to marry him. He’d known from the beginning that Poppy would never marry a man who wasn’t in love with her.
That man hadn’t been capable of this sunny, warm feeling that was inside of him now. That feeling that was down totally to Poppy.
She and her friends made their way down the path singing “IDGAF” by Dua Lipa. His confidence, which had never been a problem for him, wavered for a second. That song was about keeping an ex out of her life. Was that where—
Fuck it.
He wasn’t going down that road. He was here for himself as much as Poppy, and it was time to stop playing it safe. Actually, it was too late; he was already in his feels where she was concerned.
There was no easy way out of this.
“Ali?”
“Yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Hoped you’d want to take a ride with me.”
A car pulled in, and he noticed Merle behind the wheel. Of course nerd boy drove a sensible sedan that everyone could easily fit into.
The anger he felt toward Merle wasn’t exactly the mood he wanted to be channeling at this moment. He also recognized that it wasn’t anger at Merle per se, but just anger at himself because he wanted Poppy to come with him.
“I’ll go with you. It was Merle’s turn to retrieve us, so that’s why he’s here,” Poppy said, waving bye to her friends.
“Retrieve you?” he asked as she took the spare helmet he’d brought for her.
“Yeah, we like to drink and get all into our ritual. I’m buzzing from the moon and the night. It’s better not to drive in this state,” she said. “Why are you here?”
He leaned back against the Ducati, crossing his legs at the ankle. Be cool. Except his heart was racing, and he realized he’d been holding his breath when he let it out in a huff. Yeah, so cool.
Was there ever a time when he’d stood by this woman and not lost all of his chill?
“I missed you.” The truth sort of spilled out.
Her face softened, and she played with one of her curls. “Me too. So where are we going?”
“Thought you might like a moonlit ride,” he said. The moon seemed important to Poppy, and she shone on nights like this in a way that he found irresistible.
There was no pretending he didn’t want to have her up against the bike. Just reach up under the full skirt of the dress she was wearing and take off her panties...then put her on the bike. He moved before he fully realized what he was doing. Reaching under her skirt, he cupped her butt and lifted her onto the bike.
Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, her fingers playing with the hair at the back of his neck. “I’m sensing you want more than a ride.”
“I want it all,” he said against her neck.
One of her hands slipped down to stroke his erection through his jeans. He took her mouth in a long, deep kiss, his body vibrating with the love he felt for her. The words were trapped inside of the lonely boy he’d been, but the man he was now knew how to show her what she meant to him. How much he needed her in his arms and in his life.
Lifting her up, he tore her underwear off, shoving them in the front pocket of his jeans. Her hands were on the front of his jeans, lowering the zipper until she had him free.
“Back pocket,” he said, not wanting to take his hands off of her to get the condom. Her skin was so soft and cool. She smelled of summer and night, and it was intoxicating.
She took the packet out and handed it to him. “Hurry.”
He put it on and was back between her legs. Her hands were on his butt, pulling him closer. He drove himself up into her, burying his face in the side of her neck, sucking at the skin there.
He drove himself into her as the words kept echoing around in his head. Words that he was determined to say to her. Not while they were fucking. He wanted it to be romantic, without any doubt of his intentions.
Her hand under his jaw forced his head up, and their eyes met. The love he felt for her surged through him. There was no way she couldn’t realize how much she meant to him. He felt...oh God, he almost felt like she might welcome his feelings.
He started to talk, but her mouth was on his, sucking his tongue, exploring. Her fingers were between them as he drove into her, rubbing her clit until she tore her mouth from his, crying out his name as he felt her pussy tightening around his shaft.
He drove into her again and again until he came in a long rush, emptying himself completely. He braced his hand on the Ducati seat next to her as his other arm wrapped around her, holding her to him. Her head rested over his beating heart, her fingers still teasing the hair at the back of his neck.
“Alistair,” she said.
“Moon fairy. I’m not sure I can live without you.”
Her eyes went wide. Fuck. This wasn’t the way he planned it.