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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

MY MADNESS

BOWIE

I lean against the counter at Briar Hill, taking a drink from my water bottle and trying not to stare.

Poppy is across the room, her silky waves falling forward as she bends over her clipboard, and her yoga pants hug every curve in a way that infuriates me. Wisps of blonde hair get in her eyes and she blows them away, looking at ease in her element. Something tells me if she knew I was here, she wouldn’t look so comfortable right now and that doesn’t sit well with me.

Dinner the other night was…surprising. I hadn’t expected to enjoy myself so much, but Poppy helped me make light of everything I’m dealing with at home. It helped to talk about my mom, and the way she teased me without hesitation—it was easy, normal…it was nice.

“Poppy!” Becca says, waving happily.

Poppy looks up and walks over. “Afternoon, you two. How was school today, Becca?”

“Delightful,” Becca says, grinning.

I think she’s pulled that word out every day since she first met Poppy.

Poppy gives her a huge grin and they do their cute handshake. “Excellent. I’m very happy to hear that. You ready to do something fun?”

“Ready!” Becca cheers.

“Okay, why don’t you head to the gym and I’ll be right there.”

She looks at me now and her smile falters. Is it my imagination? Maybe she’s worried that after our dinner the other night, I might get clingy or some shit like that…maybe she didn’t have as much fun as I did and thinks she needs to let me down easy. I mean, does she realize it wasn’t even a date? Right? Right.

“Bowie,” she says simply.

“Poppy,” I respond. When she doesn’t say anything, I feel the need to fill the space, which is so unlike me, I don’t even recognize myself. “You okay?”

“Of course,” she says a little too brightly. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

For some reason I don’t buy it, but she turns and walks down the hallway before I can press further. She’s moving too fast, her shoulders hunched as if she’s trying to shrink into herself. Something is off. Without thinking, I follow her.

“Poppy,” I call.

She doesn’t stop, disappearing around the corner. My long strides catch up with her just as she pauses to flip through the clipboard, and before I can second-guess myself, I reach out and place a hand on her elbow.

She whirls around, colliding into my chest with an oof . The clipboard slips from her hands, clattering to the floor.

“Bowie?” she says, blinking up at me in surprise.

I mean to step back, to give her space, but she tilts her head, her blue eyes locking onto mine, and every rational thought flees.

A stray strand of hair falls across her cheek and I reach out and tuck it behind her ear. My fingers brush against her skin and her mouth parts as she stares up at me.

“Are you okay?” I ask, my voice quieter now, rough with something I don’t want to name.

Her mouth parts wider, but no sound comes out. Her gaze drops to my lips then back to my eyes. The tension between us hums with electricity. My pulse pounds in my ears as I take a half step closer, my hand still lightly gripping her elbow.

“You don’t…seem like yourself.” I wince. “Did I do something to?—”

“No. You’re good. You’re…great.”

Her voice is so soft and so sweet, her full lips beckoning me closer. Without giving it a second thought, I lean in and kiss her.

The moment my lips meet hers, the world tilts and settles all at once. She melts into me, her hands sliding up to grip my shoulders as she kisses me back. I deepen the kiss, my free hand coming up to cup the side of her face, my thumb brushing her cheek. She tastes so good, feels so good. Heat spirals through me and steals the breath from my lungs until there’s only this. Only her.

I angle my head, kissing her with a hunger that I’ve been too busy denying myself. For the life of me now, I can’t understand why I ever held back. When I’m kissing her like this, I never want it to end. Our lips were made for this, that’s all there is to it.

But she breaks away and we’re both breathing hard, our foreheads touching.

Poppy tilts her head back, her eyes dazed. “What…was that?”

My thumb caresses her jaw as I swallow hard. My voice is hoarse when I finally speak.

“That…was long overdue.”

I want to apologize for being cold after we had sex, apologize for bolting mentally whenever I’m around her, apologize for kissing her at work when I can’t spend the next hour kissing her more.

But she takes another step back and her face is stricken. Shit. Not what I was expecting.

“I have to go,” she says, her eyes getting glassy.

What is happening right now? Is she about to cry? My God, how did I misread the moment that much?

I step back too and nod. “Okay.”

She blinks and nods. “Okay.”

And then she turns and takes off in the opposite direction.

Becca and I pull into the driveway. She’s chatting away about the game they played, and I’m distracted by the fact that Poppy was nowhere to be found when I went back to Briar Hill. I’d planned to talk to her, maybe smooth things over after the kiss, or at least figure out if I’ve done something wrong…but she wasn’t there.

My thoughts are interrupted when we step into the house.

“You can’t possibly think it’s appropriate to move my things,” my mom’s clipped tone echoes from the kitchen.

“I was simply trying to make room for Becca’s plate,” Mrs. McGregor says. “She likes to see?—”

“Her plate doesn’t need to be out,” Mom argues.

I stop in the kitchen doorway, my shoulders tense. The sight before me is something out of a sitcom, but it’s more like my nightmare: my mom, standing ramrod straight with her arms crossed, glaring daggers at Mrs. McGregor, who stands her ground with a broom in hand like she’s ready to take flight.

“What’s going on here?” I ask.

Both women turn toward me, speaking at once.

“She’s trying to get rid of my things?—”

“She’s putting her things where Becca has?—”

I hold up my hand and they pause. “Mom, Mrs. McGregor has been running this house and helping with Becca for a long time. She knows how things work here…what is helpful with Becca and how she functions best.”

“I’m simply trying to make it homey, Bowie,” my mom says, sniffing.

Mrs. McGregor raises an eyebrow. “Becca doesn’t deal well with clutter,” she says somewhat haughtily.

“These things mean a lot to me, and they add beauty to any room they’re in,” Mom argues. “They are not clutter.”

“Mom,” my voice edges toward warning, “Mrs. McGregor is invaluable. She’s practically family. And I need her to stay happy if this house is going to function. And honestly, I’m not used to so much—” I wave my hands toward the various giraffes positioned around my kitchen.

“I’m only trying to help.” My mom’s voice softens slightly, but her posture is still rigid.

“You’re not helping by steamrolling the one person who keeps everything together,” I say. “You’re here as my guest, and I need you to respect that.”

Mom purses her lips but doesn’t argue further. Mrs. McGregor shoots me a grateful look before turning back to the cabinet.

As the tension eases, I exhale and run a hand through my hair.

“I’ll stay out of her way,” my mom says, but she still sounds miffed. “But don’t think I won’t voice my opinions when necessary.”

I smirk. “I would expect nothing less.”

Mom retreats upstairs and I lean against the counter, feeling the weight of the day settling on my shoulders.

All the complicated dynamics in my life are colliding at once.

And as much as I hate to admit it, I’m not sure how much longer I can keep them all from imploding.

Because I’m a glutton for punishment today, I pick up my phone and text Poppy.

I apologize for kissing you at work…that was not okay and I’m sorry for upsetting you.

She doesn’t respond for a few minutes, but when she does, I run my hand through my hair, groaning. I should’ve kept my mouth shut.

Poppy

Not okay? You sure know how to destroy a girl’s ego, Bowie.

I didn’t mean that. The kiss…for me…was perfect. 30/10.

Poppy

That’s more like it.

I let out a choked laugh.

You’re messing with me?

Poppy

I’m messing with you.

I grin at my phone and then remember the look on her face afterwards.

So you’re not upset at me for kissing you?

Again, she takes longer to respond than I’d like, but when she does, it’s simple…

Poppy

No.

I wait, hoping she’ll elaborate, but she doesn’t and I decide to leave it at that.

Until Mrs. McGregor comes around the corner and sees me smiling at my phone. Her lips lift.

“It’s nice to see you smiling,” she says.

I smile at her. “I don’t do enough of it, do I?”

“No, I’m afraid not. What has you smiling now?”

I hesitate and then just say it. “Poppy Keane. ”

“Ahh,” her smile widens. “I like her. A lot.” She leans in conspiratorially. “You know, I can watch Becca for a little while if you want to take Poppy out or…whatever.” Her eyes twinkle. “Since Becca’s been going to Briar Hill so much, I’ve missed spending time with her.”

I consider it and then shake my head. “She probably doesn’t want to see me tonight. I kind of…botched things up with her earlier.”

Her brow lifts. “All the more reason to go see her.”

I look at my phone again. “I would like to clear the air.”

“Okay, well, let me know. I’ll just go say hi to Becca.”

“Thanks,” I say, and she nods, walking down the hall.

I start typing and press send before I can talk myself out of it.

Do you think we could talk?

Poppy

Now?

Yes. In person, preferably. So I don’t find a way to be even more confusing than I already am.

Poppy

LOL. You are pretty confusing.

Noted. And I agree. I confuse myself. Mrs. McGregor said she could watch Becca for a little bit. We could get coffee or ice cream or…popcorn.

I shake my head. Popcorn? I’m clearly not cut out for human interaction.

Poppy

I can’t say that I’ve ever been asked to get popcorn, but sure. I have popcorn here actually. Do you want to come over?

Yes.

Poppy

Oh! Okay. I didn’t think you’d actually say yes.

You can take back the invitation.

Poppy

No, come over!

Now?

Poppy

Yes.

I walk to my room and brush my teeth, avoiding looking at myself in the mirror because I know if I do, I’ll talk myself out of this. Then I go to Becca’s room and see her and Mrs. McGregor reading a book together.

“I’m going to head out for a little bit, okay?”

“Okay,” they both say.

I text my mom that I’m leaving too, but she doesn’t answer. When I walk by her door, it’s closed and I almost knock, but decide to leave it with the text.

Poppy’s told me where she lives before, but this is my first time here. When I walk up to her condo, I smirk at the ceramic frog sitting in a rocking chair by her door. I knock twice and she opens the door, devastating me with her beauty.

Her hair is wet like she just got out of the shower, and she’s wearing a long-sleeved loose T-shirt over leggings. Her face is shining, clean of makeup, and she looks so beautiful it hurts.

I nearly turn and bolt right then, but she opens the door wider, and I step inside.