Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Poppy?”
The knock came at her bedroom door, followed by Aunt June’s worried voice. “Poppy, hon, can I make you some breakfast?”
Poppy rolled over and burrowed deeper under the covers.
It had been three days since Cooper had left her there at the dinner—three days of Quinn plying her with alcohol and cursing all men, Poppy hiding away from the world, and her aunt trying to feed her, as if her blueberry pancakes could heal all ailments.
Which, usually they did. But this wasn’t any old rejection or lost job or disappointing date they were facing. Poppy’s heart was broken, and no amount of maple syrup would be fixing that wound.
“Sweetheart?” Poppy heard the door open and lifted her head. June took a step inside. “It’s not good for you to be wallowing like this,” she said gently. “I’ll run you a nice bath, and then you can come downstairs and I’ll fix you some food.”
“I’m not hungry,” Poppy answered listlessly, but the rumble from her stomach said differently. June brightened at the sound.
“Blueberry pancakes it is. And extra-crispy bacon. Come on, you’ll feel better with some food in you.”
Poppy wasn’t convinced, but she’d been wearing these sweatpants for three days straight now. Maybe it was time to get showered and changed—into a fresh pair of sweatpants.
Slowly, she swung her legs out of bed. June pulled back the curtains and bustled around, tidying the room. Poppy froze by the window, her eyes going straight to the house next door. “Is he . . . ?”
“Not on the site today,” June said quickly. “Haven’t seen him since, well, since the weekend.”
“Oh.” Poppy let out a breath. She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed. She’d spent days wondering if he was just outside, working away on the house and completely oblivious to her heartbreak, just a few feet away.
June gave her a brief hug. “And how about we get you out of these clothes?” she said, steering Poppy to the bathroom. “You take your time, maybe wash your hair too. I’ll get started on the food.”
She bustled off downstairs, and when Poppy caught sight of her reflection in the bathroom mirror, she understood Aunt June’s determination to get her up and out of bed.
Her skin was pasty, there were dark shadows under her eyes, and everything about her looked limp and defeated. Just like she was feeling inside.
Poppy turned on the shower, and stripped to get under the hot spray.
She felt like she was moving in slow motion, and had been stuck there ever since the literary festival dinner.
It had been hell making it through the rest of the evening after Cooper had walked away; she forced a smile on her face, and accepted everyone’s kind words and praise, but inside, she’d been falling apart.
It seemed a cruel irony to be talking about romance and happily-ever-after when her own heart was breaking clean apart in her chest. Quinn had been the one to cover for her, talking loudly and steering the conversation away.
She’d grabbed a bottle of wine on their way out and stuck it in Poppy’s hand for the drive home.
“Write your way through it,” she’d said, and it was more an order than a suggestion, but still, the heartache remained.
Now, Poppy stepped out of the shower and swathed herself in a warm cotton robe. She could already smell the bacon sizzling, and her mouth began to water. She still felt like a zombie, but at least she was a clean zombie. Trust June to find a way to pull her out of bed.
When in doubt, bacon was usually the answer.
Downstairs, she found her aunt in the kitchen with the radio playing an oldies station, and a cup of coffee waiting for her at the table. “What time is it?” Poppy yawned. She’d been sleeping in fits and starts, writing too late, and crying in painful jags.
“After ten,” June replied. “Now, do you want blueberries or peaches on your pancakes? No, don’t answer that. You get both.”
Poppy inhaled the scent of sweet vanilla batter and the salty bacon, and began to feel more human again. “Thank you,” she said, giving her aunt a hug from behind. “I know I’ve been a mess. I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about.” June patted her. “I just wish I knew what turned the two of you around. You seemed so perfect together, what happened?”
Poppy swallowed. “I honestly don’t know.”
That was the part that killed her. An argument could be compromised. A problem could have a solution. But how do you compromise on someone walking away from you?
June patted her arm again. “Well, there’s fresh syrup in the jug, and these are ready.” She expertly flipped the pancakes onto a plate, and pushed Poppy to the table. “Eat,” she ordered. “You’ve been wasting away. If you turned sideways, I could look straight past you!”
Poppy took a forkful of light, fluffy pancake and chewed.
The warm berries burst on her tongue, and it was like a wake-up call to her senses.
She took another forkful, and then another, and before she knew it, June was whisking her empty plate away for a second helping.
“That’s better,” her aunt beamed, joining Poppy at the table.
“Maybe we can go into town later, get a cup of coffee or stop by the store.”
“I don’t know . . .” Poppy wavered. There was a chance she’d run into Cooper in town, and the last thing she wanted to do right now was walk right past him, pretending that everything was OK.
But the thought of seeing him again was like a magnetic pull, no matter what. “OK,” she said quickly. “Let’s go, after breakfast.”
June helped herself to more fruit, and gave Poppy a smile. “Maybe it will all still work out,” she offered, looking hopeful. “You never know.”
Poppy sighed. “I don’t think so. You didn’t see him,” she added. “The way he looked at me . . . He’d made his mind up. It was like we were already over and he’d just forgotten to tell me.”
Poppy felt the grief well up in her chest again. It wasn’t just a grief for everything she’d lost—the moments they’d shared—but for the possibilities that had suddenly been cut short.
The future she’d wanted with him, and dared to even dream.
All this time, she’d been clinging to hope, that shot in the dark at finding someone to connect with, who would see her heart and love her for it, and now that she’d had a glimpse of what that belonging felt like, it hurt even more to lose it all.
And she didn’t even know why.
Poppy demolished another plate of pancakes to build her strength, then got dressed and headed into town.
They shopped for groceries for dinner that night, before June got waylaid by a friend in the store.
“I’ll meet you at the coffee shop,” Poppy told her, not wanting to interrupt, and left them to gossip alone.
Outside, it was a warm, spring day, but Poppy felt a tremor of nerves, making her way across the square.
She expected to look up any moment to see Cooper striding around the corner, or emerging from the hardware store.
What was she supposed to say to him? How was she supposed to act now?
Maybe it was a good thing she hadn’t made plans to stay for the summer.
That vision of lazy beach days and long nights in his arms seemed a million miles away.
Now, she just wanted to finish up her book and get back to the city, but looking around the square, with the small green park and wedding cake gazebo, she felt a pang.
Sweetbriar somehow felt like home, after just a couple of months.
A home that had her ex just up the street, she reminded herself. Cooper had lived here all his life; it was no contest who was taking Sweetbriar in the breakup.
She remembered her earlier promise to Mackenzie, and detoured via the pottery workshop to pick up some mugs. The bell above the door rang out as she entered, and Mackenzie’s voice called, flustered, from the back. “Be right there!”
Poppy browsed the cute ceramics, bracing herself for the onslaught of sympathy and questions, but when Mackenzie emerged—her curly hair flying out in every direction, and a smudge of paint on one cheek—she was all smiles.
“Hey! How’s my favorite romance author?” She came to hug Poppy.
“I heard you were a hit at the festival. I couldn’t make it to your panel, I was stuck on my booth all day, but we sold out of my nautical collection and I made out like a bandit with my books, coffee, air mugs.
See?” She held up a chunky blue cup with swirling white letters.
“I love it!” Poppy examined the glaze. “I’ll take ten.”
“Ooh, big spender.” Mackenzie grinned. “Either that, or your coffee habit has spiraled way out of control.”
Poppy smiled. “No, I figure I should stock up on gifts before I leave.”
Mackenzie’s head snapped around. “Leave?” she echoed, eyes wide. “You’re going back to New York? But what about Cooper?”
Poppy blinked. She’d figured the legendary Sweetbriar gossip mill would have been working overtime, and Mackenzie was just being sweet to ignore the subject, but looking at the confusion on her face, she wasn’t so sure.
“I’m going home,” she said slowly. “Cooper and I broke up.”
“He did WHAT?” Mackenzie’s voice echoed. She caught her breath. “Sorry,” she said. “But I am going to murder that man.” She stripped off her apron, as if she was about to march out the door right that second.
“No!” Poppy yelped. “Don’t, please.”
“But what about you?” Mackenzie looked back at her. “Are you OK? When was this? What happened?”
Poppy slowly filled her in on the (brief) details, Mackenzie shaking her head the whole time. “I knew it,” she muttered. “I knew he’d go and do something to screw this up. It’s like he’s incapable of letting himself be happy. He’s going to wind up bitter and alone, just like I said.”
Poppy swallowed hard. The thought of Cooper alone and miserable hit her squarely in the gut. She didn’t want that for him. She wanted him to be happy.
With her.