“Likeinstantrelief!”
“Well, I’m glad it works.”
“Thank you,” she says, and I’m not sure if it’s the low light, but her eyes almost look glassy, like she’s on the verge of tears. “But please, will you let me give you money? My firstfake girlfriendpayment dropped into my bank account today and, I don’t mean to boast, but I’m kind of loaded.” She grins playfully. “Plus, I know how expensive these are. I’ve been wanting one for years. I feel really bad that you bought it for me.”
“Poppy, it’s a gift.” I say with a shrug. “Just accept it.”
Her lips twist to the side. “You’re, like, really rich, huh?”
I consider her question. My family dates back to the Revolution and, although that isn’t something I’m proud of because it means I come from a long line of slave owners and straight-up evil pieces of shit, it also means that I’ve never wanted foranything, that I’ve lived a life of privilege. Even after going no contact with my family, I’ve made my own wealth with golf. But having money isn’t something I’ve ever taken for granted, and I’ve always done everything that I can to try to give back to those in need.
I nod slowly. “Yeah.”
Her eyebrows tug together a touch, a small crease burrowing between them as she studies me for a long moment.
“What?”
She looks at me for another beat, but instead of saying what she’s so obviously thinking, she just shakes her head and waves a hand over the plates set out all around her. “Wanna join me? I ordered enough for a family of four.”
I hesitate, not sure if I should. But then I see the deep-dish pepperoni pizza with extra cheese and honestly, I couldn’t say no even if I know I should. Hopping up, I slide down to the floor, settling in next to her.
“What are you watching?”
“Ten Things I Hate About You,” she answers easily, plucking a cheesy fry from its plate and stuffing it into her mouth. “It’s my favorite.”
“It looksterrible,” I mutter, reaching for a slice of pizza and taking a big bite.
“That’s blasphemy by the way,” Poppy says. “This movie is a classic.”
I glance at her from the corner of my eye, watching her watch the movie, her lips moving in time with the words being spoken by the characters, and I can’t help but smile as I settle back against the couch, eating my pizza while watching Poppy watch her favorite movie, her compression suit humming with every rhythmic pulse.
I wake with a start, bolting upright with a snort. With one squinted eye, I search the darkness around me, momentarily wondering where the hell I am. It’s only when I feel the slight tweak in my neck that I look down realizing I’m still here, on the living room floor in the hotel suite, slumped back against the sofa.
When I hear the faint sound of a shuddered breath, I glance to my side, narrowing my eyes and making out the body lying on the floor next to me. Poppy. She’s asleep, curled up into a tight ball with her back to me, but her body is twitching, and as I look closer, she’s breathing really hard, almost panting, like she’s having a bad dream.
I reach over, but then I pause, my hand hovering mid-air when I hear her broken plea, her voice soft and small, each word punctuated with a sob, sending a jolt of something straight through me. “No… Please… Stop…”
Pulling my hand back, I stare at her as she moves about, a soft whimpering cry slipping from her lips, and my heart cracks a little because this isn’t just a bad dream; this is so much more.
“Poppy?” I say softly, placing my hand on her shoulder.
She doesn’t stir.
“Pops?” I say a little louder, squeezing her gently.
“No!” she cries out, and I rip my hand away.
Gasping for a breath, Poppy jumps, and then she’s clambering to sit up like she’s afraid the floor is about to open up and swallow her whole. Her back still to me, shoulders heaving with every one of her racking breaths, she turns, glancing over her shoulder, her face illuminated by the dull light of the deep night shining in through the French doors. And it’s then that I see the telltale tear tracks glistening her cheeks, see the dazed look in her glassy, heavy-lidded eyes.
“Hey?” I rasp. “Are you okay?”
Poppy sniffles, wiping the back of her hand over her cheeks, but when she realizes her own tears, her face cracks and she bows her head, fresh tears falling.
“Hey, you’re okay,” I whisper, shuffling closer, and hesitating only for a second, I wrap my arm around her and coax her to me. “C’mere, I’ve got you.”
Poppy comes willingly, burying her face into my chest, her tears soaking through my polo shirt.
And as I hold her, resting my chin on her soft hair, I rub my hand over her back, soothing her in the way she soothed me almost instantly today when she came out onto the course.
