“Hey, Poppy... Don’t cry. I know this is a lot…”
“It’s not the marriage thing,” she says, her voice cracking. “I don’t know why I thought bowling would be a good idea for my arthritis.” She lets out a puff of breath through her nose, a single tear falling onto her cheek. My chest seizes.
As if on instinct, I reach up and wipe it away with the pad of my thumb.
“You went the entire round and never said anything?” I ask, picking up her hands and gently massaging the heel ofher palm. Holding her small hand in mine sends an electric shock all the way up my arm.
“I don’t like to make a big deal of it,” Poppy replies. “It makes me feel like I can’t do the things everyone else can. I’ve fought my entire life to still do everything a normal person would. I’m just waiting for my meds to start kicking in and I’ll be fine.”
“It’s okay if you want to leave, Pops,” I say. “We can always make an excuse that we just can’t keep our hands off each other and need to be alone. I can make that convincing enough.”
That gets a real laugh out of her, and it eases the deep ache that’s been growing since I saw the tears in her eyes.
She takes a deep breath, squaring her shoulders, and putting on a resolved mask. I get the feeling she wears it a lot when she’s struggling through pain.
“I can manage.” She pulls a hot pink lip gloss out of her purse and swipes some on her lips, and my gaze sticks to them. “I do it at the café all the time. Besides, I think you’re more optimistic about how much progress we’ve made out there than I am. I don’t think they’re buying it.”
Someone walks behind us and pushes past into the washroom, making me take a step forward so I’m in Poppy’s space, my chest almost pressed up against hers. I don’t step back once they’re gone. One, because being in Poppy’s space is like being pulled toward her by a magnet, and two, if anyone passes by the hallway, all they’ll see is an intimate moment between an engaged couple.
My pulse thrums, and whether it’s from the adrenaline of the circumstances, or my proximity to Poppy, I can’t be sure.
All I know is that we’re standing so close that if I dippedmy head, I could kiss her, andfuckI want to. It’s all I’ve been thinking about since I kissed her on the balcony, under the aurora. It’s been consuming me.
Clearly, I didn’t think through the consequences of kissing her the other night. I’ve kissed so many women but that… it was something else entirely. It made me never want to kiss anyone else and that thought was terrifying.
“Then let’s give them some hard proof.” I reach my hand up to cup Poppy’s face. Her eyelids go heavy, and it’s like I’m being drawn toward her by some invisible force.
I can’t ignore the fact that we’re alone right now, and whatever Poppy and I agreed to, a publicity stunt relationship and convenient dating lessons, it definitely wasn’t stolen kisses in private.
We can’t have a repeat of that kiss the other night, or this could get messy.
Moving my thumb to her lips, I wipe the bottom one, smudging the pink gloss. Her eyes snap up to mine, and she watches as I swipe it onto my own lips.
“There.” The strawberry flavour of her lip gloss makes me want to devour her mouth right here, right now. It’s an act of sheer will and determination to turn away from her, but I do.
I take her by the hand to lead her back down the hall and out toward the lanes.
“I’ll meet you over there,” I say at the last minute, letting go of her hand and veering off toward the front counter. She rejoins the group, but I have something to take care of first.
By the time I come back, everyone is wearing a confused look on their faces, the screens having changed since our firstgame. Where there was once space for eight names, now there’s only room for four.
“What did you do, Jett?” Spencer asks, her bright green eyes squinting at me.
“Next game is in teams!” I announce.
“Teams?” Hudson asks.
“Yeah, I want to play with Poppy,” I reply with an easy shrug.
If Poppy insists on playing, I’m going to make sure she only has to throw the ball half the time. This way, she doesn’t have to be the one to say she needs a break.
Grady lets out a low whistle.
“Youaredown bad,” he remarks, as everyone starts to pair off. Spencer is with Grady, Hudson with Wren, Ally with Mason.
While our friends are distracted typing their team names into the computer, Poppy finds my eyes and mouths athank you. That warm satisfaction swells behind my ribs again. I offer her a soft smile in return, before I pick up a ball to play our first turn.
CHAPTER 20
