I slowly turn my head so that my cheek is squished into the cushion instead of my nose and mouth. “Our sponsors are providing free tickets or coupons or whatever to different places. Like restaurants or bowling alleys or museums. I guess you don’t have to go on the date, but we put a disclaimer in the sign-up form that you really should. If they sign up, they’re acknowledging that barring special circumstances, they’re willing to participate in the whole thing—the auction and the following date.”
From the kitchen comes the sound of the laundry room door opening and the faint rumble of the garage door; a few seconds later, India and Poppy enter the room.
“Hi, chickadees!” Poppy says. Her voice is cheerful, but by the time she’s reached me on the couch, her expression has twisted into something more concerned. “Oh, dear.”
“Aurora got volunteered for a date auction at work,” Juliet supplies.
Poppy’s dark, curly hair bounces as she looks back and forth between me and Jules. “A date auction?”
India frowns. “How did that happen?”
“It was Bart. He basically volunteered me.”
“And you said he was harmless,” India says, her eyes narrowing. “Turns out he’s a little rat man with little rat eyes?—”
My snort of miserable laughter cuts her off, but then she changes tack.
“Want me to bid on you?” she says, slouching her way to the end of the couch and sitting directly on top of my feet. “Make sure no one weird gets you?”
“Oooh, me too!” Juliet says as a wide smile spreads over her face. She rises to her knees, bouncing a little. “Me too! We can pool our money! We could gobowling!”
“I like bowling,” Poppy says with a shrug.
It is so, so tempting to say yes.
“I’ll keep you updated,” I say, but my voice is dry.
Dryis better than horribly gloomy and filled with dread, though, which is where I was hovering ten minutes ago. The image of Juliet hefting a bowling ball is playing through my mind and making me smile, and I decide we should all go bowling anyway, because if they all like it, why not?
I want them to be happy. When they’re happy, that’s when I’m happiest too—even as I try to work my feet out from under India, who increases her pressure to keep them where they are.
“Indy!” I say with a strangled laugh, and she laughs too. A second later the weight is gone, and I scrunch my feet up to give her room; when she’s seated she pulls my legs back over her lap.
“What’s new with you, Pop?” Jules says, sprawling comfortably with her back against the couch and her feet crossed in front of her. “You’re never around anymore.”
“I’m not,” Poppy says, “but I’m almost done with school. So there’s that.”
“That’s so exciting!” Juliet says. “And then what? Do you have a job lined up?”
“Not yet,” she says, settling herself on the floor next to Jules. She crosses her legs and then uses both hands to wrangle her curly hair into a bun on top of her head. “But I’m working on it, and I’m hopeful.”
“Get something in Lucky!”
Poppy gives a dry laugh at this. “Lucky isn’t known for its abundance of PT offices.”
“Boo. But you’ll still come see us? You won’t be too busy for us after you’re a proper working woman?”
“Of course not,” Poppy says with another laugh. “You girlies are stuck with me forever.”
India and Juliet shoot each other looks, probably because we all wonder the same thing: What the heck is going on with Poppy and Cyrus?
They’re not a couple. They’re just best friends. But no other man or woman would be comfortable with that friendship. No woman is going to marry Cyrus when he’s so close to Poppy, and vice versa.
So in what capacity are we stuck with her forever?
Don’t get me wrong—I want Poppy to stick around. We all do. I don’t personally see how anyone could put up with Cyrus for a lifetime, but Poppy has managed so far; I don’t know how they aren’t together already or apart for good.
Because they seem to be walking a very fine line. Sooner or later they’re going to teeter into more than friends or less than friends, and I think we’re all worried about when that happens.
