I don’t want anything to ruin it. I don’t want anything to make her feel like being herself isn’t enough, like anything should ever hold her back.
My phone starts buzzing in my pocket again, and although I ignore it, I’m reminded of the article Brooke sent me. The prospect that this whole marriage scheme is going to open Poppy up to an onslaught of criticism. The usual media scrutiny, but also the jealous women who go feral at my competitions. Those women can be just as ruthless online.
Regardless of how I might have changed, or how different I am now from how I’m portrayed, the fact remains; I’m not good enough for Poppy. I’m just as bad, if not worse, than all those guys she matched with on Crush.
My pocket vibrates with yet another incoming call from Brooke I can no longer ignore. I hold it up to Poppy, and she stops walking, letting me take a few steps away to answer it.
“I know, I know,” I say as a greeting. “I should have talked to you before setting foot outside of the house with Poppy.”
There’s a beat of silence on the other end as if I’ve caught Brooke by surprise with my insight, my ability to admit that I was wrong and stepped out of line.
“No, Jett, that was amazing,” she says, and I hold my phone away from my ear to check that my connection is still strong. That she didn’t cut out right as she was actually laying into me.
“What, really?” I ask.
“Yeah, didn’t you read the article?”
I put her on speaker while I open the attachment she sent.
The headline reads:NEWLYWEDS GETTING COZY ON THE SLOPES.
Below it, there’s a picture of Poppy and I getting on the chairlift, my arm around her waist, pulling her close. My expression as I’m looking down at her is soft, warmth and affection in my gaze.
It’s the look of a devoted husband.
“I wish I’d thought of it myself,” Brooke admits. “The ski hill is your domain, it’s where you dominate. It’s… sacred to you. You know you’ve never been photographed with a woman on the ski hill?”
“Huh,” I’ve never even considered that. I’ve never wanted to share it with anyone, until now. The ski hill is the one place that I let go and can be truly myself. No persona. No mask.
I turn back to look at Poppy, finding her bent down on the sidewalk, making a tiny snowman off to the side. She’s unlike anyone I’ve ever known. Ever since we were kids, Poppy is just… Poppy. She embraces her quirks, the things that make her uniquely her.
My wife might be the most authentic person I’ve ever met, and the only time I’ve felt like my truest self is with her.
CHAPTER 26
POPPY
By the timewe get back to the house after wandering the village with our hot chocolate, my knees and my hips are stiff and sore, and I can’t help but limp as we walk through the front door.
Jett eyes me as I flop onto the bench by the door to take off my shoes, a wrinkle formed between his brows.
“Are you okay?” He asks.
I school my features to hide the discomfort I’m in.
“I’m fine.” I’ve been saying that a lot recently. It’s easier than explaining how I really feel, than trying to make someone understand how I struggle. I pull off my winter boots, preparing myself to stand again. “Skiing really does a number on the joints, though.”
I rub my knees with the heels of my hands.
“Come on.” Jett reaches out a hand to help me stand, and although I normally don’t ask for help, I’m grateful for it.
Because he just offers without fanfare, without the need for recognition, or thanks. He’s been doing that ever since westarted this whole thing. Quietly offering me his steady support.
“I know just what you need.”
I follow him down the hall, his hand not leaving mine until we reach my room.
He only drops it as he wanders into the ensuite and turns the handle on the bathtub. He feels the water, checking the temperature, and I watch him silently as he scoops out Epsom salts from the jar on the side and dumps them in.
