The line rings once, twice.
No doubt he’ll have some arguments against this hare-brained scheme, but I can’t affordnotto do this. I haven’t heard any updates on the scandal, and now Jason hasn’t been returning any of my calls, either.
The line rings several more times, and for some reason, my gut is roiling.
I rarely get nervous. Seventy-five foot ski jumps?No biggie. Flying through the air upside down? Nothing. But presenting the idea that I’m suddenly going to play a very public role as a loving and devoted husband to Poppy? I’m petrified.
Not just that Dan might very well laugh in my face… but the fact that I also have to do it if he agrees to it. Be a husband.
I’ve never had to even remotely pretend to be committed to someone before this, and now Poppy and I both have everything riding on it. I can’t afford to fuck it up.
If I want a chance at going to World’s… this is it.
Poppy is my only hope, and I’m hers.
And somehow the thought of her relying on me to keep her café adds a different kind of pressure. This isn’t just about me.
Dan finally picks up the phone on what feels like the thousandth ring.
“It’s late, Jett,” his voice is groggy. I pull the phone away from my ear and check the time. Eleven o’clock.
“Maybe for an old fart like you,” I chide.
“What do you want?” Dan already sounds annoyed.
He’s right, I am a little prick, and this isn’t the best way to start a conversation when I need his help.
I clear my throat and try to control my voice so it comes across somewhat serious. “I want to talk about this… situation I’m in.”
My nervous energy has turned jittery, and whenever I’m like this, I have to move. I get up from the couch, and within a few steps I'm in Poppy's kitchen pacing, waiting for Dan to respond. There’s rustling in the background like the sound of covers moving as he gets out of bed.
“I’ll tell you the same thing I told you the last time we talked about this, I don’t have an update for you, I’ll let you know the second I hear anything.”
“What if I have an idea that might help?” I suggest.
“Does it involve hiding in your brother’s basement suite like Brooke told you to do?”
“No.”
“Then I don’t think it will help.”
“I’m getting married,” I say it as if it’s already been decided and I’m trying it on for size.
Dan doesn’t answer right away, and then he bursts out laughing, the sound making me pull the phone away from my ear.
Poppy must hear it from where she’s still seated on the couch, because she looks over at me across the room and gives me a wary look. I flash her a smile to let her know everything is okay. At least, I hope.
He’s still laughing, and he sniffs as if he’s brought himself to tears. “To who, that Beth girl that threw her drink at you?”
“Bella,” I correct him, because there’s no way I’m gettingthatwrong again. “And no. Poppy. Poppy Thorne.”
“That cute little thing you were talking to at Skijoring?” His tone has shifted now as he realizes that I’m not trying him on, that this isn’t a joke. “I thought you were just friends.”
“We are,” I stammer, trying to find the words to explain this in the least insane way possible. And failing. “I mean, we’re notin loveor anything. But she’s agreed to pretend so I can convince Nuclear that I’m not the sleazeball they think I am. We can make some public appearances, I can talk abouther at press conferences. Show how committed I can be to one woman.”
“This is starting to make a bit more sense,” Dan says slowly, his words measured as he considers the plan I’ve laid out for him. “She isn’t anything like the women you’ve been seen with before.”
I glance back at Poppy, sitting cross-legged with her cat curled up in the triangle of her legs.
