“You were a little angel when you were younger, Mae. What happened? I don’t know if you have hormonal issues or some deep-rooted trauma because of your father, but he’s not—”
“Don’t bring up Dad,” I bite out, standing from my chair, blanching. “Our relationship issues have nothing to do with him.”
My mother stares at me, cocking her head before finally saying, “Have you considered therapy?”
That’s enough to drive me out of the kitchen, memories of my father surfacing.
His smile.
His laugh.
His compassion.
I miss him.
And I need to get the heck out of here.
Flo’s travelling for work, but Poppy’s always asking me to grab coffee or lunch with her. I call her, and she picks up after a few seconds.
“Mae?”
“Hi, Poppy. I know this is really random, but is there any chance you’re free tonight? I’m going over one of our routines, but I’m just not getting it.”
Lie.
I know the routines like the back of my hand now, but I don’t want to have to explain to her that my mom is impossible to be around. It doesn’t feel like an appropriate thing to say.
“I was waiting for you to want to hang out.” She laughs. “Sure, come over. I’ll text you my address.”
I feel a little cowardly running away from my mom, but she’s the one person I can never get through to, and leaving the house and giving myself a little time to cool off is the best thing I can do so I don’t fall into the trap of arguing with her.
I quickly reach Poppy’s apartment. It’s in a nice area, with large oak trees crowding over it, sheltering it from the precipitation falling from the sky.
The entrance is framed by lush greenery, carefully manicured plants lining the gravel pathway. I admire the large windows stretching from floor to ceiling, giving me a good view of the sleek and sophisticated interior.
I’m sure I look flustered and riled up, but I can’t bring myself to care. Poppy’s seen me looking worse.
I buzz number three, and the loud hum from the heavy glass door indicates I’ve been granted access. I realise I should have brought something as a thank-you for letting me visit, and I make a mental note to offer to pay for her lunch sometime—I’ll briefly be getting a part-time job here so I have some disposable income.
The stairs are steep and glossed, and I can see the faint outline of my footprints on each one behind me, the rain making the mud outside claggy.
Rattling my fist against Poppy’s door, I nervously shift my weight from foot to foot. I’d forgotten to change into training attire to back up my lie that I want to practice a routine, and it’s going to look awfully strange showing up in a pair of denim shorts.
But hopefully, she’ll look past that.
The door is pulled open, and I open my mouth to greet Poppy, but my eyes land on a very confused Nathan instead. A very confused—shirtless—Nathan.
Oh my God.
I feel the colour drain from my face, and my stomach spins, along with my head.
“I—I’m here to see…” Without thinking, my gaze drops to Nathan’s toned, tanned chest, and after hearing him clear his throat, I snap my eyes back up. His eyebrows are hiked up, asking me what I’m doing here.
I could ask him the same question.
“Nathan! Let Mae in!” Poppy calls from another room.
“You knew she was coming?” he asks her, but I can tell he’s trying to keep his voice hushed. I’m not sure why.
