Chapter 33
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
POPPY
The Oak & Ivy country club is exactly the kind of place I would have expected Oliver’s family to choose for a wedding reception.
The elegant dark wood and crystal chandeliers I can see through the dramatic glass doors would make my simple navy wrap dress and ankle boots feel out of place any other time.
But not with Oliver’s arm around me, beaming as he escorts me up the stairs, like he couldn’t be prouder to be seen with me.
“You ready?”
I stop and look at him. “Is my makeup okay?”
He smirks and cups my face, brushing just below my lip with his thumb, like he’s wiping gloss. I had to freshen up after the crying. And the—ahem—kissing. Which we’ve done a lot of in the hour since we left my dad’s party.
“More than okay,” he says. “Though I wouldn’t mind tasting your lip gloss again.”
“Oliver Fletcher! Have some restraint!”
“Overrated.”
“Necessary,” I say as he gets the door for me.
The reception is in full swing, with a live band playing something jazzy and people clustered around high-top tables holding champagne flutes. It takes maybe three seconds for a tall, pretty woman to notice us.
Then she gasps, and everyone notices.
My default setting is to smile, but shrink, so I’m not in anyone’s way, so I’m not making the moment about me.
But Oliver must sense this, because he puts his hand on my back, pressing gently before I can hunch, making me stand as tall as I can.
The woman rushes over, and a man follows. He looks like an older, more worn down version of Oliver with a smile that’s rusty from disuse.
“Ollie! Is this her?” the woman who is obviously his mom asks. She looks thrilled but tentative, like someone learning to laugh after years of holding back.
“Mom, this is the woman I was telling you about. Poppy Grace Lewis. Poppy, these are Kathy and Rod Fletcher, my parents.”
“It’s so nice to meet the woman who put a smile on Ollie’s face!” Kathy says, grabbing my hands.
“He makes me smile, too,” I say. “Especially when he eats something spicy.”
Oliver chokes on a laugh while his parents look between us curiously.
“Oliver hates spice,” his dad says, shaking my hand. “I gave him black pepper sunflower seeds once when he was in Little League, and he coughed until he threw up.”
Oliver’s mom and I laugh, while Oliver pinches the bridge of his nose. “Be cool, Dad.”
His dad chuckles. “Good to meet you, Poppy. We’re so happy you’re here.” Then he looks at Oliver. “Your Granddad wasn’t able to make the reception. I hope you two have a great time.”
They excuse themselves with warm smiles, giving us space.
Oliver watches them walk away, his parents arm in arm, laughing about something. “My dad stood up to my granddad tonight. For me.”
“Wow,” I say, letting the simple power of his statement stand. “How did that feel?”
He laughs. “Good. Not as good as kissing you, but really good.”
I lean my head against him, and he folds me in his arm. “Is that why your granddad couldn’t make it?”
“I think Dad may have uninvited him.”
“Good for your dad.”
Oliver looks around the room and points out Evan and his new wife near the head table. Evan looks more like his mom than his dad, but he and Oliver share the same deep blue eyes that crinkle when they smile.
Evan grabs his wife’s hand and pulls her across the room.
“You brought a date to my wedding?”
“I brought a date to your reception,” Oliver clarifies, but there’s pride in his voice as he introduces us, his arm around my shoulders. “She means a lot to me.”
Evan’s smile grows bigger. “Then welcome to the family.”
I blush, feeling like everyone’s getting ahead of themselves a little here, but the fact that Oliver doesn’t argue or correct anyone tells me he doesn’t.
I think I’m okay with that.
After a few more introductions, Oliver spots Darren across the room with his family. He hesitates, then squares his shoulders before leading me over.
“Hey, Darren,” Oliver says when we reach him. “I owe you an apology. A real one.”
Darren looks more surprised than I am. “What for?”
“I blamed you for a lot of things that had nothing to do with you.”
“No, I hurt your family,” Darren insists. “You were justified.”
“You don’t have to say that, Darren. I forgive you.” Oliver clears his throat, and the emotion in his words makes me squeeze his hand. “I need to ask you to forgive me.”
Darren studies Oliver for a minute, the goodness I saw in him all those years ago so much bigger now that he’s worked so hard on himself. He gives Oliver a shrug. “Yeah, of course, man.”
Then he throws his arms around Oliver, who has to let go of my hand to hug Darren.
“Sorry, I’m a hugger,” Darren says, and Oliver laughs. “We’re good, Ollie.”
They pound each other’s backs, step back, and share a smile.
Oliver takes my hand back in his, and after we say goodbye, he pulls me onto the dance floor.
“Can your ankle handle this?” he asks when we stop.
“I have it taped up. It’s good,” I say.
“But you’ll tell me if it hurts.”
I narrow my eyes at his insistence. “Fine. It hurts a little.” He pulls me closer, and I have to tilt my head way back to look up at him. Even in my boots, the height difference is ridiculous.
“You know, this would be easier if you were shorter,” I say.
“Or if you were taller,” he says, but then he solves the problem by pulling me flush against his chest so I can rest my cheek there instead. My arms loop around his waist, and his hands settle on my lower back.
Much better.
The band shifts to something slower—the piano taking the lead—and the lights dim to amber. Around us, other couples sway, and I catch glimpses of Evan spinning Sloane, his parents dancing close, even Darren with his wife.
But mostly I’m aware of Oliver’s hands warm on my back, the subtle scent of his cologne mixing with the faint smell of snow still clinging to his tux, and the steady thump of his heartbeat under my ear.
“My ankle’s getting better every day,” I tell him, “and I elevated it for hours this morning, if you remember.”
“Was that really only this morning?” he asks. “There’s probably a lesson in that.”
“And what would that be? That you have no sense of time?” I say, swaying in the dim lights.
“No, sassy pants. Being apart for even a few hours is too long.”
“That’s a better lesson.” I rest my face on his chest. I have a feeling this is going to be my face’s new favorite place.
When the song finishes, Oliver bends down for a quick kiss that doesn’t stay quick. “Want to get out of here?” he asks in a low voice.
“We’ve only been here for twenty minutes,” I say with a laugh.
“Exactly. That’s practically an eternity.”
I hold his eye. “Are you sure? You came home for this.”
“I came home to support my brother, which I’ve done, but I also came home because I had nowhere better to be. I do now.”
“Yeah? Where’s that?”
“Wherever you are. And no one else, because I have got to kiss you again.”
I raise my brows. “In that case, I’m all yours, Ollie Pop.”
He groans. “Please don’t make that a thing.”
“Oh, it’s a thing.”
“Elf.”
“Ollie Pop,” I repeat.
“Shouldn’t that be our … power name, or whatever?”
I laugh. “Touché.”
He chuckles and grabs my hand, and together we slip out of the reception and into the cold night.
Snow is falling again, soft and quiet, turning the parking lot into something almost magical. Oliver pulls me close.
“You remember Pat and Terry? From Kansas?” he asks.
“Yeah, what about them?”
“Terry said something I can’t stop thinking about. He said it’s not about the destination, and it’s not even about the journey. It’s about choosing to take the journey together. Every single day.”
I think about the older couple, how Pat made Terry laugh, how they teased and flirted. How he was still a grump and she was still smiling, and how he adored her with every glance. “Every single day, huh?”
“Yeah,” he says, brushing snow from my hair when we stop at my truck. “I want that. The boring days and the hard days, online and in real life. I want all of it with you.”
My throat tightens. “Even when I’m hurting?”
“Especially then.”
“Even when you’re annoyed with me?”
“I’m never annoyed with you.”
I stare.
“Okay, fine. Even when I’m annoyed with you. Which will only happen when I’m especially grumpy.”
“And I’ll choose you with every grumpy scowl.”
“Every day, Poppy Grace. I’ll choose you every day.” He kisses me softly. “Now come on,” he says, taking my hand. “Day one starts now.”