28. Poppy
Poppy
“ W here is that one great dress you bought last year but haven’t worn?”
“I’m going to need more details than that,” I laugh shakily. Everything about me has been shaky this morning.
“You know, the classy but drop dead gorgeous one,” Wren adds, digging through my closet.
“Still no idea. But if I own it, then it’s in there.” Pulling at my bottom lip, I ask, “Is it normal to wear dresses to this? I don’t want to stand out.”
My friends all exchange a glance then look down at their own outfits. Every single one of them is in a dress. How did I not notice that? It’s safe to say I’m feeling nervous.
“How many people go to this thing?” I ask, crossing my legs on my bed and watching Ivy go over to help Wren look for the supposed perfect dress.
“It used to be huge. People would come in from their dad’s company and stay at Cliff House, partying for a week,” Wren explains from my closet.
“Now, it’s really just our group. Plus Hayden’s air sea team will be there, at least one or two firefighters probably, and Millie and sometimes another deputy or so.
Mrs. Silberman comes, and Beckett invited his two closest friends from Boston this year.
Their names are Charlie and Stephen, also a pair of brothers.
I’ve met Charlie, he’s nice. Ivy’s parents, my dad, and Millie will bring Nessa.
Pretty much everyone we always celebrate with, that’s why it’s so exciting you are finally coming,” Stevie says eagerly.
“That is way more than just our group.”
“Found it,” Ivy shouts, holding up the dress in question.
I have to say, it is a good choice. It was more expensive than I should have allowed myself to spend, but it was the most flattering thing I had ever tried on. I couldn’t get myself to walk away from it at the boutique in Fenbury.
Wren passes over the dress that was made for me triumphantly. Today is starting to look up if the clambake is an excuse to finally wear this. To finally say I didn’t waste the little money I have on it.
In off-white linen and wide straps cross my back—a tasteful take on an open back dress.
From the front, it comes together to a narrow, deep V-neck with a structured, snatched waist. It falls straight, tight enough to accentuate my hips but not to the point of being a painted-on look. I do love this dress.
“And you need a swimsuit, we always swim at some point,” Wren adds, watching me admire my dress in the mirror.
Honestly, this clambake sounds fun. Why did I let myself miss out for so long? I shake the thought from my head. No overthinking. Today is about what feels right.
“Okay, well pick me out one of those too then.”
Ivy nods, turning to my dresser next. “What about that one bikini you have with the—here it is.” She pulls out my baby blue triangle bikini with the tiny floral pattern. “This looks great with your hair.”
“Oh, and grab the white denim shorts to go over it,” Stevie adds from her spot on my bed.
With my outfits all picked out, they get me dressed and my hair done in loose beach waves. Whether I feel it or not, they have me ready to go and I start down the stairs.
A part of me wants to turn and run back to my room, hiding away from the pressure of today.
But then I remember the look in Hayden’s eyes when I told him I would come, and I’m so lost in the memory, I completely miss one of the stairs beneath my feet.
Wren catches my arm and grins at my blushing cheeks.
“Excited?” she asks.
“Did you ever think there would come a day when Poppy was excited to go see Hayden?” Ivy muses from the doorway, waiting for us to catch up.
I hold my hand up in protest. “Ugh, stop. Distract me, please.”
We make our way down the front steps and out to Stevie’s waiting Jeep. Climbing into the seat behind me, Ivy says, “Okay, well how is the show going?”
“Oh my gosh,” I groan. “I’ve been meaning to tell you all, Tara called this impromptu meeting with us to say that she found out who Hayden is. As in, his family legacy.”
“Shit.”
“ No , that’s awful.”
“How did Hayden take that?”
I snort. “Like Hayden. Very stoic and calm.”
“Is she going to… advertise it?” Stevie asks carefully, throwing the Jeep in drive and pulling out onto the road.
“Hayden didn’t let her press the subject, he just said that we’d talk about it later. But I don’t see how there is anything to talk about. We need to tell her no,” I reply decidedly.
Beside me, I watch Stevie’s shoulders relax. I hadn’t even thought about how that would impact Beckett too. But of course, she had. As fiercely as she loves our group, I think Beckett might have a more significant corner of her heart. I won’t be poking at that theory though.
I turn to her and ask, “What is it that has people so fascinated? Why do they keep treating his family like this? His parents went out for a drive and crashed into the ocean. That is so sad, but an accident. Then the business being passed to Hayden got complicated. Right? What makes it so buzz worthy all these years later?”
“Um, you should probably get the facts from Hayden one day,” Stevie suggests gently. “Because that’s not really the story.”
“It’s not?”
I never looked into the story. In fact, I went out of my way to ignore the articles. I didn’t want a reason to see his stupid, handsome face in any of the pictures.
“Just let Hayden tell you. Supposedly, he’s even kept details from Beckett.”
We drive the remaining miles with the radio up and the windows down. I have my hand outstretched, riding the breeze, while I watch the cottages grow more stately along the road and bits of ocean flash between each home as we work our way up the coast.
The whole way, Stevie’s words circle round my thoughts.
He’s even kept details from Beckett . I think back to how she was there to support Beckett all those years ago, but she said no one was as close to Hayden.
My heart aches for the lonely weight he must carry, and I remember the way I saw through his mask at the bakery yesterday.
Did Tripp and Wes not see through the mask when everything happened? Mrs. Silberman?
I don’t have time to sort through all my thoughts because the familiar stone wall of Cliff House comes into view and I spot the line of cars down the drive.
I wonder if this would be easier if it were strangers in attendance.
With everyone I know watching, this feels like a statement.
Either I pull back under their watchful gazes and hurt Hayden, or I show everyone how close we’ve become before I can even be sure of what this is.
“What was that code word?” I mutter to Stevie.
She parks the Jeep and turns to me with a thoughtful expression.
“Hmm, let’s say… scrunchie.” Reaching for my bag, she digs around inside until she finds the spare scrunchie I keep in the side pocket and snatches it up.
“I’ll take this, and then you can honestly say you don’t have it.
And we’ll come out here to check for one. ”
“Okay, that’s good.” I nod decidedly, looking down the path around the side of the estate. Wren’s hand comes over my seat from the back and squeezes my shoulder supportively.
“Ready?” Ivy asks softly. “We can run interference on anyone you want.”
“I may take you up on that.”
I step down onto the stone drive, a smile tugging at my lips as I remember the first time I was here. It’s hard to believe that was only a month ago, it’s even harder to believe how much has changed between me and Hayden in that month.
We walk down the path that leads to the back yard, the sound of music and chatter beckoning us. Coming around the corner, I spy a long table down the side of the yard adorned with crisp linen and sprawling flower arrangements. I turn to Stevie and smirk. “Your flowers look amazing.”
“I couldn’t leave everything up to the boys,” she replies cheerfully.
Past the table, down at the cliff’s edge, a smoking mound rises from the ground.
It’s not surprising that Hayden would be traditional and do a clambake right.
This means that he’s dug a hole and filled it with hot rocks and a fire, then covered everything with fresh seaweed.
Currently, alongside Nash and Jamie, he’s layering food atop the mound.
Or, he was. Until he straightened, and his gaze locked on me.
I suck in a breath and stare right back into those deep, ethereal blues. Like a rip tide, every part of me is being pulled to him, and it’s tiring to fight it.
Desperate to hear whatever thought his eyes are trying to convey, I take a step forward. Then another.
“Poppy, dear!” A voice tugs at my attention. Spinning, I see Ivy’s mother, Ruth Taylor, approaching. “How lovely to see you here,” she tells me, waving her glass of chilled white wine at the party. One by one, she envelops each of us in a hug.
I can still feel Hayden’s eyes on me as she wraps me in her delicate, deep brown arms. The heat of his gaze bores into my skin like someone is holding a magnifying glass against me in this summer sun.
“It’s so wonderful to have you all together. Why the change of heart this year?” Ruth asks. There is kindness in her words, I know that she’s genuinely just happy to see me here.
Yet I’m at a loss for how to respond. I grasp for a way to explain, something that is fitting for casual conversation. “It was just time,” I settle on lamely. “Will you excuse me?”
Wishing I had half the grace of Mrs. Taylor, I clumsily sidestep her and duck inside the house. It’s empty, luckily. Closing the door from the patio behind me, I lean back against it and take a deep breath.
My mind had gone utterly blank in the moment. I just need a moment to think. Stepping deeper into the kitchen, I lean my elbows on the counter and hope to have some time to settle my thoughts. I don’t get more than a second though, because a click of the patio door fills the silence around me.