by Isabel Jolie
“I hope you’re wrong. I like to think my mother has an open mind and a good heart. And I don’t care about anyone else you may be referring to. I don’t care. But for the record, I think Poppy can fit in anywhere. Yes, she has a different background. Than us. We had everything handed to us. Tutors if we needed them. Expectations set before us. Poppy didn’t have anyone coaching her, pushing her. But she pushed herself. And she’s doing well. As a matter of fact, she’s doing better than some of our Ivy league classmates, if your benchmark for success is revenue.”
“Gabe, please.”
“Seriously. She’s doing well. She’s kicking it. She’s made more money than you have as a designer.”
“How can you possibly know that?”
“Because I used to handle my mom’s design business books, and I know that you’re an employee, and I have a good idea of what a design firm can afford to pay employees. My guess is you’re living off a trust fund or your parents are pitching in to cover your expenses. And you’re what, thirty-three? Well, Poppy is twenty-five. So, when you come in here acting superior because of your college degree, you may want to re-think the foundation for your sense of superiority.”
She stood, visibly exhaling, hands plastered to the front of her coat.
“Have you thought about your future at all? I mean, five and ten years from now? Twenty years from now? Christmases and Thanksgivings. Have you thought about what those are going to look like?”
“Caroline, it’s late. You should go.”
She made it all the way to the entrance of the hall before the harsh clicks of her heels stopped. “I always thought you and I would end up back together. I thought you just needed to play the field a bit.” Her voice cracked.
“I never meant to give you that impression.” For me, we’d been over for years. And most of the time, I wasn’t certain I liked her. But guilt kicked at me. I couldn’t be certain I never led her on. Before she turned to the elevator, the light reflected on what I thought might be a tear. Fuck.
I returned to the sofa and found my phone.
* * *
Caroline might need a friend.
* * *
Within seconds, the phone rang.
“What’s going on?” Reed sounded concerned. Genuinely concerned.
“She’s leaving here now. I think she needs someone to go to dinner. I’m not up for it.”
“So, let me get this straight. You’re calling me. If I ask her out, you’re not going to deck me?”
I stretched back and smiled. “No. I think the two of you might be good together. Something tells me you both want the same things.”
Chapter 31
Poppy
* * *
A golden glow settled over the marsh, and a thin layer of pollen dust coated the world. I popped an allergy pill and kicked back in my chair with a glass of chilled wine, intent on letting the hectic pace of the week drift away. I’d picked up a few of my favorite romance books more than once in the evenings, hoping to lose myself in make-believe, but it didn’t work. My raw, mushy, sensitive heart bogged me down. The broken heart had been inevitable. I had my fun. The time had come to pay the piper, as my fifth-grade teacher used to say. But as much as the pain sucked, I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Because I had memories. My own book boyfriend come to life.
Tap. Tap. Tap. The light rapping sound originated from the solid wood door, so I stared at it.
I expected Alice on the other side. She’d stopped by the day before to check on me and to offer something to eat. It had been a nice gesture. She meant well. But I didn’t want it to be a daily thing. And I didn’t want company. I sat still, hoping she’d assume I wasn’t home.
Oh…fuck a duck. There’s no way she didn’t see me walking through her back yard
The knocking stopped.
I am such a bad human. Now she’s gonna think I’m ungrateful. An unfriendly tenant.
I gulped a large swallow of wine for fortification.
Get off your fat ass and go say hello to Alice.
I guzzled the remainder of the wine and stood.
“There you are.”
I scanned the deck. Spun around to look behind me. The room remained empty. But I recognized that deep voice.
“Lord, half a glass of wine and I’m hearing things,” I muttered.
“Poppy. I’m down here.”
With extreme care, I leaned over the railing. My heart sped up to the point you’d think I’d tried to run a 5K. Gabe stood on the ground before me, holding a gorgeous bouquet of magenta peonies.
“What’re you doing here?”
“I came to see you. Let me in.”
“Why would you—why are you back? Why are you whisper-shouting?”
“Poppy. Alice is in her back yard praying. Let. Me. In.” I peered over the railing and scanned the ground all around him for god knew what. The moment felt surreal, like instead of wine I’d smoked pot and hallucinations had set in.
“Poppy. I’m coming back up the stairs. Please. Let me in.”
He disappeared, and in minutes the tapping returned. I swung the door open.
“How did you know where I was?”
“Luna. I called her after I showed up at your old place and saw the Realtor’s lock on the door.”
“Yeah, Mrs. Rittenhouse has the place listed for sale. My lease ended.” He knew that. I told him I’d found a place.
“Can I come in?” I blinked away my confusion fog.
“Of course. Would you like some wine?”
He gave a slight nod and thrust out the flowers. “These are for you.”
“They’re gorgeous. Truly. But I’m so confused. What are you doing here? We already said goodbye, Gabe, and it hurt. Why are you back here?” Frustration oozed from my pores. There was an order to these things, and dammit, slipping up and going backward wasn’t smart.
He pushed the flowers into my hands, and I propped them up in the sink to deal with later. Dizziness engulfed me. I held on to the counter for balance.
Gabe lowered to one knee before me.
“What are you doing? Get up.”
“I’m not proposing. But…let me do this. I have to explain things. I have a speech planned, and I didn’t plan on kneeling, but this feels right.”
I opened my mouth and closed it repeatedly, like a guppy out of water.
“Please? Go with it?”
I nodded, incapable of more.
“I didn’t plan on falling in love with you. I think I had some preconceived notions that gave me a false sense of security that I couldn’t actually fall in love with you. On the outset, we’re different.”
I crossed my arms and had a mind to glare, but there was no glare in me.
“I think I thought I was the one helping you. But you didn’t want my money, and you pushed off most of my help. But I think you helped me, or at least changed me. I’m definitely a different person now. It took me going back to the city to see that. The things that used to thrill me don’t anymore. And what I want has changed.”
“That might not be me that changed you. There’s a quote out there that you should live in New York once, but not so long it makes you hard, and in the south, but not so long it makes you—”
“Soft. I heard it as San Francisco, but yeah. Maybe this place was a contributing factor, but Poppy…I think we make a good partnership. When I think about going out there on my own, returning to my old life, I don’t like…I didn’t like it. I don’t expect you to leave. You’re in the middle of making it on your own, and I’m not looking to take that away from you. You know, you’ve never said how you feel about me, but I’m back here, down on one knee, wondering if maybe you’d ever consider giving us a try? A real try? Without an end date on the horizon?”
My hands clasped over my mouth, and air from my deep breaths whizzed over my skin. Everything in front of me, this total scene, didn’t make sense.
“But you love New York. It has everything. Restaurants and shopping a
nd—”
“Poppy, I went back. But I missed this place. I missed you.”
“But I’m not your kind of girl.” I searched for any sign he was joking, or delirious. There were tall, skinny, glamorous Sex and the City kind of women in New York City.
“Who says you’re not my kind of girl? Because I’m kneeling before you and, by the way, crushing my knee on a tile floor, to show you that you are very much my kind of girl. I love your zeal, your compassion and creativity, your heart and independence, passion and determination. I see the world through a Poppy colored lens now, and I have no interest in going back. Not to the way things used to be. Will you give me a chance? Will you give us a real try?”
“For real? Like, you’re going to change your social media status real?”
“I don’t know how to do that, but I’m sure I can figure it out.”
“What about your parents?”
“My mom thought you should move to New York.”
“Will you stand up?”
“No. Not until you agree to give us a chance.”
“I’m not moving to New York. I have—”
“I know. I would never ask you to. And here’s the thing. I’ve made it. I found my success. I can do my own investment thing. I don’t have to be in Manhattan. I don’t really want a boss. I don’t need one. I’m re-thinking what I want to do, and I can be anywhere. But you, you need to do this. I want you to go for it. And I want to be there supporting you. If you’ll let me.”
The fringes of the room grew blurry, and I stared up at the flat white ceiling.
“Can I stand now?” I nodded and helped him up, and he cupped my face in his hands and gently wiped away some pesky tears. “Is this a yes?”
I smiled and sniffled and wrapped my arms around his shoulders, bringing him close. “Yes.”
He bent and kissed me. Soft, probing, slow. His kiss said he meant it, he wanted me, and not just for the night. He wanted me beside him. His kiss promised a future.
“I love you, too, you know?” He smiled his boyish grin, and I wished I’d told him earlier. “But you probably knew that.”
“Well, if your mushy heart couldn’t stand to talk on the phone with me…let’s say I hoped.” He trailed kisses along my jaw then pulled away, serious. “It may not be easy. We could be in for some rough years. These lawsuits could hang over my head indefinitely. The government is on the hunt to reclaim funds. They could try to take every bit of money I have. I don’t think it’s likely, but there’s always a risk.”
“No worries. There’s pretty much always an open spot for a dishwasher in the kitchen.”
He lifted me without even straining onto the counter and stood between my legs, so our faces were aligned, equal.
“Penelope Star Smith, have you ever lived with a man you loved?”
Epilogue
Gabe
* * *
I snapped open the box and held it out for my childhood friend to examine.
“Whoa. You’re proposing?” Tate set his board onto the sand, then held his hand out to hold the velvet box.
“You think it’s too soon?”
“Only you can make that call.” He held the box out in the sunlight. “That’s an enormous rock. A blood diamond?”
I snapped the box shut and huffed. Only Tate. I tossed it in the drawstring bag I’d carried out on the beach and he stood openmouthed pointing at the tote.
“You’re gonna leave that giant rock out here? On the beach?”
“No one’s going to steal it.”
“Uh-huh. Won’t let you do it, man.”
“It’s in my tote.”
“Are you out of your mind? Leave it in your house.” He stepped forward toward my house, insistent. I caught up with him and gave him the side-eye. “That’s all you have to say? I’m proposing marriage. And you’re worried about the safekeeping of the ring?”
“What’s there to say? I’m happy for you. Luna and I, in my mind, I’m right there with you. Committed for life.”
“But you’re not doing the marriage thing?”
“We don’t need it. We commit to each other each day. Marriage is a religious institution I don’t trust.” I kicked the sand, sending it spraying out before us. “But that’s not to say it doesn’t work for some. I think it’s good. You guys are good together. Congratulations.”
“I get what you’re saying. But I think having a ring on her finger and becoming Mrs. Chesterton will build Poppy’s confidence. Sometimes I feel like she’s still waiting for us to not work out, and marriage is the ultimate symbol of commitment. It says that there may be bad days, but no matter how bad it gets, you plan on digging in and working on it, for the rest of your life.” He clapped me on my back. “And, to be honest, she’s brought out a bit of a possessive streak in me. I want that ring on her finger so every guy who approaches her and finds himself staring at her rack sees she’s taken.”
The one skinny guy, Tony, who seemed to show up all the time near the marina, was gonna find a fist in his face if he didn’t stop blatantly checking her out.
“Ah, and the truth comes out. Well, that ring’s large enough no one’s going to miss it.”
Exactly.
“How’d your parents take the news?”
“Well, she hasn’t said yes yet. But they’re happy for me, even though they wish I’d move back closer to them. Expecting me to call and let them know her answer.” We reached the steps that led up to our place, and I took the lead up the ramp. “What’re you doing this afternoon?”
“Well, I’d hoped to give Jasmine some swimming lessons, but she bailed on me to help Luna with a project.”
“Good. I need your help.”
“With what?”
“I’ve got some lights to hang.”
“There’s no one you can hire to do that?”
“Who would I hire? Everyone here knows Poppy. And I want this to be a surprise. Plus, she’s been pushing me to do a little less hiring. She says it’s not normal to hire someone to do everything.”
I led him downstairs and showed him the bags of lights I’d ordered from Amazon. He bent to examine the clips I’d also ordered.
“Whatever happened to that suit?” His question came out of nowhere.
“It’s over. SEC dropped its investigation. The Justice Department never brought any charges against me. They forced my old boss to return some art he’d been gifted, and Cyr’s girlfriend had to return jewelry he gave her. But the most he gave me was a pair of Gucci slippers, and I left those in the hotel room. Cyr’s still somewhere in the Caribbean on his yacht avoiding prosecution. But for me, it’s over. It’s another reason I can now ask her to marry me. There’s no fear of ending up in a jail cell.”
He handed me one bag and picked up the other.
“Well, let’s go do this.”
Tate and I spent the afternoon converting the expansive deck on the Shoals Club into a dizzying array of twinkling lights. Or, at least, that was my grand vision. Hard to see for certain if it would come true in broad daylight. The florist arrived, and I set them to work prepping inside the restaurant.
By the time we finished, any passersby would think a wedding reception was happening that night. As a matter of fact, more than one member stopped and asked if a wedding was taking place. Inquiring minds wanted to know.
“Whoa. Look at you. A suit. What’s going on tonight?” Poppy wiggled between me and the bathroom counter and fine-tuned my tie.
“I’m taking you out. Remember? Date night.”
“Where are we going?”
“A surprise.”
“But I need to shower. I’ve been outside all day. I’m nasty. After work, I helped Cali move. Do we have a reservation? I need to—”
I kissed her soft lips to quell the flow of words. “Take all the time you need. I got ready early so I wouldn’t be in your way.” And I also wanted to set her expectations for a big night. A night I hoped she’d remember for the rest of her life.
I paced the den, waiting. I focused on the hypnotic roll of the waves, hoping to calm the rising anxiety.
I didn’t call her father to ask permission in accordance with southern tradition. But her father hadn’t really been a part of her life. And she hadn’t bonded with any of her stepfathers. Against my better judgement, I did call her mother.
“I’m sure you’re a good man. You promise to treat her right, and you have my blessing.” Her voice cracked, and then she blew her nose and proceeded to sniffle throughout the remainder of the call. No matter what had happened in the past, her mom loved her.
What if she doesn’t say yes?
I’d told every single person in our joint life of my plans. Tate’s distrust of marriage bore a similarity to Poppy’s view. After all, growing up, every marriage she’d seen had ended in divorce—her mom, but also her aunt and her grandparents. The national divorce statistic didn’t provide any data to support the institution. We’d only been living together for two months. She wasn’t expecting this.
Sure, I’d dropped references with increasing frequency to where we’d live in the future. When we’d argued over the height of a picture I hung downstairs in her office, I’d sarcastically quipped, “Whatever the future Mrs. Chesterton wants.” She’d laughed, but it was a funny moment. I moved that damn nail up and down the wall six times before the frame hung at a height she liked.
I patted my coat pocket and triple-checked my faint reflection in the glass for any tell-tale bulge. My palms grew clammy. I washed my hands under cold water in the kitchen sink. Then I returned to my place overlooking the ocean. I paced. Then gazed. On repeat.