Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Taking my hand, Poppy rests her head against my arm, and whispers to me, “She’s happier for me than my own mom was.”
The others don’t hear her, and I’m sure she’d like to keep that part of her life at bay for the night. So it’s good when Nikki says, “That is the cutest. We’re going to have to Photoshop those pictures together.”
I roll my eyes. “I’ll leave that to you guys.”
Poppy looks confused. “I don’t get it.”
My mom says, “Laird was prom king of his class.” Did she just waggle her eyebrows? “It’s kismet.”
“This is a lot of mania,” I say, “over something that doesn’t matter.” With Autumn fully entertained by my scruff, rubbing her fingers over the pointy hairs and laughing, I turn to Nikki. “We didn’t get this much hype over playing Wembley Stadium.”
My sister starts laughing again. She knows it’s absurd but also loves to be a part of the fun. Who doesn’t? I just wish it weren’t aimed at me.
Poppy giggles, though, so if this is the reward, I’ll let them tease away. She finally says, “She said it’s kismet.”
Nudging Poppy, I then rub her lower back and whisper, “We’ve always had a date with destiny, baby.”
Nikki says, “I’ve never met two people more meant to be.” Nikki feeds my mom’s delight in the little things, even encouraging it. I shoot her a look to please end this torture. But torturing her brother is what brings her joy. “I love that for you two.”
“Are we over this bit yet?” I ask, glancing to my side where Tulsa’s walked up.
He asks, “What bit?” Then he swoops in to take his baby, and I take the opportunity to hold mine by wrapping my arm around Poppy’s shoulders.
I exhale, ready for a different topic of conversation that doesn’t include me at the center of it. Turning to Poppy, she’s quiet but still grins as she stares ahead. Something feels off in our connection, her hand loosening from mine. As the others pivot their attention to Autumn, who’s giggling up a storm in her daddy’s arms, I tilt my head to catch her eyes. Her usual vibrant life is void of emotion. The fun she was having has vanished under the guise of a fake smile.
Turning to shield her from the group, I caress under her chin. “Are you okay?”
Her gaze finally reaches mine as if she’s returned to me. “I’m not feeling well.”
“We can go.”
The nod is subtle, but I see it—her eyes still stretched into a distance beyond Nikki’s backyard. She’s shaken, but I have no idea what happened.
“Hey, guys.” I wave with my free hand. “We’re going to take off. Thanks for the food and . . .” The goodbyes are fast, and Poppy is hugged at least four times, which is more than I was, before we’re freed to leave.
As soon as we’re safe in the confines of my Ferrari, she says, “You’ve said that to me before.”
“Said what?”
“We have a date with destiny.”
She remembers.
34
Poppy
One memory unlocked.
Not just any. A memory of Laird.
Laird being a part of a memory doesn’t make sense just like dreaming of him in the vaguest terms of my past didn’t. I didn’t know him then. I didn’t love him like I do now. Why is this happening?
My head starts pounding, so I rub my temple as I work through the memory, trying to recall any piece of the puzzle I can. “I don’t understand, and it makes me feel like I’m losing my mind.” I’m not asking a question, but I can’t help but want him to explain. He doesn’t. He grips the steering wheel, keeping his eyes ahead.
Usually, he’d have a hand resting on my leg, or I’d revel in the glances he steals any chance he gets. Sitting next to me now, he has me wondering why his concentration is so intense when driving home. Home . . .
My apartment or his?
“I need to think.”
That pulls his attention, and he looks at me. “What does that mean?”
“It means I need to think. I need to process what is happening, to figure out why I’m confusing my present with my past.” His eyes return to the road, leaving me lost in their absence. I don’t understand him, but I’m so desperate for him to save me that I lower my voice and ask, “What do you think is going on?”
“I . . .” He takes a breath, then exhales slowly. “I think you want to remember, but you’ve made more memories since then, and your sorter is out of order.”
“My sorter?” A smile actually threatens to ruin my bad mood.
“The chronological order sorter in our heads. It’s confused.” Normally, I’d find that cute, but I can’t seem to reason how he’s in my past and present.
I stare at him, thinking I might find the answer or another memory will pop up. I’m left empty, but I’m also feeling invisible. “Why won’t you look at me?”