by Emma Hart
I hated being cuddled. Sleeping while cuddling was akin to torture for me, but with him—well, fuck. It was comfortable.
Mostly. I wasn’t a light switch. I couldn’t turn that shit on and off.
“Are you…” he murmured.
“If I wasn’t, that wouldn’t have happened,” I said back just as quietly. “I didn’t know who you were when I took you to my hockey-mad family. The last thing I need is a miniature you at family functions for the rest of my life.”
Adam laughed, burying his face in my hair again. His breath danced over my shoulder, teasing goosebumps on my skin.
“Tell that to your dad.”
“Please don’t ever mention my dad after sex again.”
“Does that mean we’ll have sex again?”
“Not unless you swear you’ll ever mention my dad,” I said, swinging my legs out of bed and getting up with a groan.
“Can you bring me a towel?”
I looked over my shoulder at Adam. “Sure. You’re the one who needs a towel. That’s a bucketful of cum you’ve got inside you.”
“I had it,” he said nonchalantly. “Now you’ve got it.”
I grabbed a stuffed bear from the dresser and tossed it at his head. “Shut your mouth.” I left the room to the sound of his laughter.
I hated that I liked the sound.
Damn him.
I cleaned up in the bathroom and darted back into my room. Adam was lying on the bed on his back, one leg out of the covers, one arm resting on the pillow over his head.
I threw a towel at him. “I guess you’re staying.”
He moved the towel beneath the sheets to clean himself. “Are you protesting?”
No.
“No,” I said, flicking off the main light. “I was just saying.”
“Isn’t it early to go to sleep?”
I pawed at the nightstand for the remote and turned on my TV. It immediately produced Netflix. “How do you feel about serial killers?” I asked, rolling over to curl into his side.
“You know,” he said, “Pretty damn good.”
***
I wandered out of the bedroom to Avery sitting at the dining table and Adam at the stove. Avery was eating, her Kindle in one hand and a fork in the other.
Adam was cooking, humming to the playlist that was quietly beating from Avery’s laptop in the living room.
“This is cozy,” I muttered, going to the fridge.
Avery grunted, nose in a book.
Adam grabbed me, pulling me to him. “Morning, Red.” His greeting was punctuated with a kiss to my lips. “How you doin’?”
I raised my eyebrows.
“We watched Friends while you slept,” Avery added.
“Did I wake up in an alternate universe?” I asked, looking between them both. “Are you friends?”
Adam shrugged. “Sure. She’s a decent girl. Why wouldn’t we be?”
“She’s decent? What is she? A pair of jeans?”
“Oh!” Avery snapped her fingers. “If I were, I’d be the pair that hugged your ass like a Care Bear.”
I stared at her. “I need new friends.”
She laughed as I turned to the coffee machine. Had I stepped into an alternate universe? Why the hell did this all feel so fucking normal? Why was Adam cooking Avery omelets while she read her latest book? Why was I so confused?
Was this my life?
Why didn’t I know what was going on?
I sat at the table with my coffee mug. Adam presented me with a perfectly cooked omelet a-la our first morning together, and I stared at it.
I was so confused.
What was happening here?
Why would nobody tell me?
Adam kissed my cheek. “There you go. I have to get to training. Sorry Avery got hers first, but she was awake.” He kissed the top of my head and walked to Avery before flicking her hair. “Thanks for the advice, Aves.”
Aves?
Advice?
Had I slept through the fucking apocalypse?
I sat, dumbfounded, as Adam retreated into my room. Avery ignored me as she ate and read her books.
“Am I missing something?” I asked her.
Avery looked up at me. “I don’t know. Are you?”
“I’m asking you, dumbass.”
“Are you pissed he made me breakfast before you?”
“What? No.” I stabbed my fork into the omelet. “At least, no. No.”
“No biggie, then.” She scooped another forkful of omelet into her mouth as Adam left my room.
He was wearing exactly what he had been last night. The shirt, the pants, the stubble…
I was still half-asleep. I was in the point of consciousness where nothing made sense. I could feel the sleep in my eyes for the love of fucking God.
Adam rounded the table to me. His hand cupped the back of my neck, and he kissed me. “Hey,” he murmured. “I have a wedding to go to and I need a date. Call me.”
I blinked at him as he left.
Avery watched the door shut and snorted her omelet across the table.
“Yum.” I pushed mine away.
She laughed. “You don’t get it, do you?”
I stared at her.
“He doesn’t have a fucking wedding. He’s playing you at your game. It’s fun.”
“You know, for my best friend, you take a lot of pleasure in my pain.”
Aves shrugged, putting her plate in the sink. “Only when you’re dumb about it.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX – POPPY
Truth and Tru Dat
I stared at my phone. It’d buzzed three times with Adam’s name. I’d ignored it until now, but I finally gave in.
Adam: What’s your zodiac sign?
Adam: When’s your birthday?
Adam: What would you rate yourself out of ten on blow jobs?
I laughed and tossed my phone.
Fucking hell. We’d reached a new low. I wasn’t going to reply to that. He was trying to push me into doing it. I wouldn’t give in.
No. No, sir. No, madam. No.
Avery glanced at me. “Adam?”
“No.” I went back to painting. I was so close to finishing the poppy. It was nothing more than details and accents.
I wanted to sit here in my corner, ignoring his texts, so I could add the last of my poppy seeds to the image.
“Ohhh-kay,” Avery said. “I’m going to work.”
“Have fun,” I said, focused on the image.
The seeds were everything. The focus of the poppy. The core. I had to get them right.
Seed after seed I painted. All I wanted was the accuracy.
Until my phone rang.
Adam’s name flashed on the screen.
I ignored it.
The text was immediate.
Adam: I know you’re in there.
I said nothing.
Adam: It’s like that, huh?
I finished my poppy seeds.
Adam: I have to talk to you.
I gave in.
Me: What?
His response was instant.
Adam: Open your door.
I wrinkled my face.
Me: No.
I put my phone to the side and wiped my paintbrush on my arm. I just wanted to get this painting done. Was it so hard? Was it too much to ask for?
There was a knock at the door.
Avery moved.
“Sit down!” I hissed.
She froze, eyes widening as she looked at me. “Why?”
“I don’t—it’s Adam,” I finished with a mutter.
“So why can’t I let him in?”
“He wants to talk to me.”
“Shock horror. A hot, rich guy wants to talk to you.”
I flipped her the bird. “It’s not that simple.”
“I think you’re a wimp,” she said, getting up.
“I told you not to open the door!”
“I’m getting water!”
My phone buzzed again.
Adam: I know you’re in there. I can hear you telling Avery not to answer the door.
Me: You could be guessing based on the fact I don’t like people.
Adam: But you like me.
Me: I never said that.
“Hi, Adam!” Avery said brightly, opening the door.
I gasped. “Traitor!”
Adam grinned. “Can I come in?”
“No,” I said.
“Sure!” Avery bounced to the side. “I was just on my way out.”
“No, you weren’t.” I glared at her.
Adam stepped inside and put his hands in his pockets. “Going anywhere nice?”
She grabbed her purse and patted it. “Taking my book to get some cake.”
“Do they do take-out?”
“You want cake?”
“Chocolate would be great. Thanks. Here. My treat.” He pulled out his wallet and looked at me. “You want some cake?”
I stared between them both. “What is happening here?”
“I’ll get her cake,” Avery said, plucking the twenty-dollar bill from his hand. “You’re not getting change on that, by the way.”
“Didn’t expect to.” He chuckled. “Enjoy your cake!”
Seriously.
What was happening?
The door swung shut behind Avery.
I was so confused.
Had they set me up?
“Is this a set-up?” I asked, peering at Adam over the top of my canvas.
He had the decency to look sheepish when he raised one hand and pinched his finger and thumb together. “Little bit.”
“Little bit? It’s either a set-up or it isn’t. I don’t like it either way.”
“I need to talk to you, and I know you won’t let me do that. So I had to be creative.”
“Creative? Seems like a blatant violation of my right to ignore you.” I sniffed.
“You’ve been ignoring me all day long, Red.”
“I haven’t been ignoring you. I’ve been busy. It’s my day off and I want to finish my painting.”
“Can I see it?”
I sighed. “You’re just gonna walk around the back of me if I say no, so you may as well.”
He laughed. “You know me so well.”
Scarily so, actually.
He walked around the back of me and gripped the back of the chair. “Whoa.”
I hated showing people my paintings.
“Is that a good whoa or a bad one?”
Adam leaned down. “You can’t see how amazing this is?”
“No. I’m an artist. I’m a self-deprecating disaster.”
He laughed, dropping his head down. “This is incredible. Is it…one of the ones I sent you?”
I swallowed, dipping the brush in the black. “Yes.”
“Why did you pick it?”
“Art has to come from the heart.” I swallowed again. “That’s what was in my heart that day.”
“Poppy…”
I dropped the brush and got up, walking around the table. “No. I—I can’t have this conversation with you, Adam.”
“Then don’t talk. I have no problem doing all that if you’ll just listen to me.”
“I don’t want to listen,” I said quietly, turning around and meeting his eyes. I hugged myself with my paint-streaked arms. “And it’s not because I don’t care. I do care. I care about what you want to say, but I also care that it’s going to hurt to hear it.”
“It doesn’t have to hurt to hear it.”
“It will, though. We both know—”
“Do you hear yourself?” He pushed off the chair and walked over to me. His hands framed my face, and he forced me to meet his eyes. “Do you hear how ridiculous you sound? No, Red. We don’t know anything.”
“I know that you could break my heart.”
“And I know that you could break mine.” He touched his forehead to mine for a second before his eyes locked on mine again. “And I don’t care, Poppy. Four days. We had four days together, and three weeks later, I’m still out of my fucking mind thinking about you. You know the last thing I thought about three weeks later? Food.”
I bit my bottom lip to stop myself smiling.
“Really great tacos by my mom’s house,” he went on. “Seriously. Give me all your reasons why we shouldn’t try and make us work and I bet I have an answer for every single one.”
“Fine.” I stepped back out of his touch because I couldn’t concentrate when my heart beat stupidly fast. “You’re rich and famous.”
“Okay, those are two reasons to be my girlfriend. Really great ones, actually.” He grinned. “You’re not starting this very well.”
I pursed my lips and moved from hugging myself to folding my arms in annoyance. “You travel all the time.”
“Only during the season which is October to April. Little longer if we make the Stanley Cup playoffs. The rest of the time, I’m pretty much right here. And the travel isn’t that constant. I can come home or fly you out or we can Facetime.”
“I have a Samsung.”
“Okay, so we’ll Skype every day. Next.” He folded his arms, looking way too smug about this.
I was already running out of steam. “I have a job. I can’t just drop it to fly out and see you.”
“I get the games in advance. We can pick weekends and you can request them off.”
Shit.
“Rory will expect you to be his personal coach and show up at all his birthday parties.”
“I love Rory. I can cope with that.”
“Is there anything you haven’t thought of?”
Adam shook his head. “We already went through all the reasons we should fake break up, remember? And before you say it—I can handle the media. Just threaten to sue for harassment and they leave you alone for the most part.”
I pursed my lips.
“Run out of reasons, Red?”
“No. I’m thinking.” Think, Poppy, think. Damn it.
Ah-ha.
I had it.
“Aunt Blythe!” I pointed at him. “My family!”
He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. “Wow. You really don’t want to be with me, do you?”
I covered my face with my hands and laughed. “We don’t know each other that well!”
“Bullshit. We talked forever. We know tons about each other. I even know all the things you don’t like about yourself.” He held his hands out to the sides. “Come on. Admit it. You can’t think of one good reason why we shouldn’t try this for real.”
Man.
I hated it when other people were right. It really messed with my ability to argue with them.
He cupped my face again. “We’re good together and you know it, Red. And I’m not just saying this, but seriously. I’m rich. I’m famous. I’m good in bed. I am one hell of a catch.”
I closed my eyes and laughed. “I don’t even know how to respond to that.”
“You agree and say you’ll be my girlfriend.”
“This feels very high school.”
Adam laughed and wrapped his arms around my shoulders. “Jesus, you’re stubborn. Is that the hair or just a delightful trait you possess?”
“Probably a mixture of both,” I said into his chest. “Mostly a trait though. I’m sure there are nice, non-stubborn gingers out there, but I’m just saying I haven’t met one yet.” I turned my face to the side. “Do we have to decide this right now? Can’t we just see how it goes?”
“Yes, and no. I was explicitly told by Avery that if I leave this apartment and we aren’t officially together, she’s going to kill you in your sleep.” He paused. “And implicate me so I go down with her because orange isn’t her color.”
“Orange isn’t her color,” I confirmed. “I would believe her on that.”
“Noted.”
I sighed and wrapped my arms around his waist. It felt right. Like I was supposed to be here with him. Like I was made to be here. “I’m scared, Adam.”
�
�I know, Red.” He kissed the top of my head. “I’m scared, too. I have no idea how to make a relationship work, but I know I want to make it work with you. I believe we can.”
“Do you think we’re crazy?”
“Absolutely.” He laughed into my hair. “But you remember when we were talking on the beach on Sunday night?”
I nodded.
“I told you I’d slow down if I found the person worth slowing down for.”
I nodded again.
“I’d already found her,” he said softly. “She’s you.”
I squeezed him tight, and he did the same to me before he nudged my chin up and kissed me.
“Is that a yes?” he asked against my lips.
I kissed him again. And again. And again.
“That’s a yes.”
EPILOGUE – POPPY
Happily Ever After
ONE YEAR LATER
“I don’t like this,” I grumbled as Adam tugged me along the hall with a blindfold over my eyes. “I can’t see where I’m going.”
“That is kind of the point, Red.”
“Is this what living together will be like? If so, I want a refund.”
“You can’t. Avery already moved in with Warren and your apartment already has a tenant.” He laughed.
Without the gift of sight, that laugh was spine-tinglingly delicious.
Damn it.
“I can find another apartment.”
“On an artist’s wage?”
He had a point. I, myself, was pretty broke. Mostly because I refused to touch the inheritance my parents had finally released to me when I’d made the choice a month ago to quit my job and paint full-time.
I thought I was taking the moral high road. Adam used it to blackmail me into living with him, because once Avery moved out, I couldn’t afford the rent if I wouldn’t touch it.
All right, so it wasn’t blackmail, but it was a very well-thought out argument that I had nothing to counter with.
That was a habit he had. I didn’t like it.
“Shut up,” I said.
“Okay, stop.”
I walked right into him.
“I said stop, Poppy.”
“I stopped, Adam. Technically.”