Poppy

 

 

 

“…Child?”

My whole world shifts abruptly on its axis, like I’m standing upside on the sidewalk watching clouds float by like ants on the ground. Nothing makes sense.

One second I’m gazing at a man who has challenged my every way of thinking and enriched my life with the beauty of desire and adoration and the next… everything is meaningless. Everything I thought I’d come to understand was wrong.

Grant stares at the woman before us who stands stiff and unblinking. Her auburn hair is pulled so tight back from her face into a ponytail that the corners of her eyes looked stretched. Had she been nervous this morning when she did her hair? What had she been thinking as she gazed into her mirror?

She curls her fingers into fists and nods sharply, turning her focus back to Grant, “I’m carrying your baby.” She plunges her hands into the pocket of her black pants, withdrawing a sonogram and holding it in front of us.

“How far along?” I breathe, staring at the little picture and then at her. She’s tiny, barely taller than me but much thinner. I don’t see a trace of a bump on her stomach.

“Two months. About.” She shrugs, hands sliding over her stomach when she notices how intently I’m staring. I immediately look away, bashful.

I glance up at Grant, waiting for him to deny it, to tell her that this is a cruel joke, but he doesn’t say anything at all. He seems shell shocked, unable to put together any sort of semblance of a sentence. In his eyes I can see his brain running a million miles a minute.

I don’t blame him for his hesitance, but my heart has been ripped out of my chest and smashed on the sidewalk in front of us and I need him so desperately to grab my hand and tell me everything was going to be okay.

“When I heard you were engaged I decided I had to tell you.” Kitten shrugs, eyes falling to the side. She avoids looking at me as much as possible. Did she feel guilty?

“How’d you find out?” Grant asks dryly, his fingers so tight on the pie boxes that he’s cracked one on the side and blueberries have begun to ooze down his hand and stain the cuff of his long sleeve button-up. I watch emptily as the blue stain seeps higher and higher up his sleeve.

The woman doesn’t respond, pursing her lips as Grant sighs a single name, “Eli.”

“He’s an over sharer.” Kitten shrugs, warm breeze blowing a stray lock of ruby hair into her glassy eyes.

“I’m not looking for anything from you.” She adds in a hasty mumble, stilettos clicking on the sidewalk as she thrusts the crinkled ultrasound into Grant’s hand, “I just want my baby taken care of.” On the back of the image is a hastily written phone number.

Her dark eyes lock on mine once more before she pushes past us on the sidewalk and heads into the diner.

“Poppy, I swear, I had no idea-” He whispers urgently the second Kitten has vanished. But she’s only vanished from our sight, not from our lives.

Now that she’s carrying Grant’s baby, she’ll be a figure in our lives forever, a constant reminder of Grant’s seedy past. Did I want that?

“You slept with her two months ago?” I interrupt, holding up a hand in front of him. My fingers quiver as I struggle to make sense of the apparent timeline, “We got together two months ago.”

“Well we didn’t get together…” He stammers, “We just made this deal, I didn’t know then how much you would mean to me. I didn’t know that our arrangement would be more…”

More? Had it ever really become more than just a business transaction? Had I let myself be blinded by his beautiful eyes and dazzling smile?

My lips purse, broken heart shattering even further. That night when I picked him up from the strip club seemed so far away. So much had changed since then, but not at all, really.

A gasp parts my lips as my eyes widen in abrupt recollection.

“Kitten. She was the name on your phone that one time. In the texts from Eli.”

He says nothing, frowning at me weakly. He doesn’t deny it.

Just what had she meant to him?

“So you did sleep with her.”

“Honestly, Poppy. I don’t remember it.” He runs a hand through his hair, eyes closed in shame, “That whole time before you is a blur… I’m so thankful to you for pulling me out of it. I really am. But what I did then was before you-”

“But it’s going to affect me now, Grant. My husband is going to have a child with another woman? And this is about more than me! How will the shareholders react to this?”

“I don’t know.” He replies, face draining slowly of color, “I honestly don’t know…”

I step back, shaking my head, “I can’t do this right now. I need space. I need to clear my head. I’m going to stay at my apartment for a little while.”

“Of course.” He whispers quickly, reaching forward with his blueberry sticky fingers to touch my cheek though he stops the second he sees the mess on his hand, letting his arm swing limply back to his side.

“I am so sorry, Poppy. I wish… I wish I could go back in time.”

“Don’t we all.” I snap, whirling on my heel and darting around the corner before I can be lured back in by the sincerity of his sea blue eyes and honeysuckle lips that impart only lies.

Though my intention was to just snag an Uber, my frenzied fingers instinctually open my contacts, hovering just the tiniest of hairs over Miki’s name.

But I can’t call her.

She won’t want to listen to my troubles. My sister wants nothing to do with me now.

I’m not sure I blame her.

I stumble to the side, leaning my shoulder heavily along the brick wall of the back of the diner. The ground under me spins like the time I had too much wine back in college, and I’m worried I’m going to be thrown off the face of the world entirely. It’s like I’m being slowly sucked into a black hole, my body being stretched and contorted until everything hurts.

I am painfully, terribly alone.

When I was little, before Miki was born, when I would play silly card games with Mom while Dad was at work, she used to have a saying.

Don’t put all your eggs in one basket, Poppy.

I had, repeatedly, done just that.

First with useless art degree, then with my sister, and then with a handsome, sexy man that I had only known so briefly. My feelings for him had exploded with such force I didn’t know what to. Just looking at him made my soul burn with flames of affection and desire.

I’d given him everything I had, every single ounce. I’d let him have my body and my heart, all without taking the time to truly consider what I was doing.

I didn’t have a real right to be angry with the billionaire. The logical side of my brain knew that.

Grant Price had never promised me anything but money. He’d never promised to love me. He’d never promised to cherish me. He’d promised me a million dollars and a year and three months of my time.

That million dollars was worth nothing compared to the heart I’d let him take in his hands, crushing it beneath his cruel fingers.

But that rational corner of my brain was not in contact with the rest of my heart and soul that anguished under the ache of heartbreak.

Tears stung my eyes as I finally crept into my apartment. It was cleaner than I’d ever seen it before and sterile scented like Pine-Sol and air freshener. There was nothing homey or cozy about it now. There was nothing that was familiar.

It was like walking into somebody else’s life.

Had it really been so long ago that I was here?

I grab the handle of the fridge, yanking it open. Though I expect it to be empty, it’s stocked nearly full. Frowning, I grab the milk siting on the shelf and check the expiration. Two weeks.

I rifle through crispy veggies and juicy fruits… it was all fresh. The ginger ales in the fridge were not yet cold.

Grant.

Of course.

Was this an act of kindness or him just trying to shove down my throat what a good guy he was?

Either way, I couldn’t handle it. Not right now. I slam the fridge shut and jerk open the freezer, which is full of frozen pizza and ice cream.

I hate that he knows me so freaking well.

Glaring at the food that my stomach growls for but I will stubbornly refuse to consume, I shut the fridge and slide down so that I’m sitting on the kitchen floor.

Again I take out my phone, gazing down at the empty screen. Of course Miki hasn’t texted me, that’s the new normal. And though I want so badly to see Grant’s name on the screen, I know he won’t text me either. He’ll give me all the space I need, like the perfect gentleman he is.

The tears I fought so hard against burst free of the prison of my eyes, sliding down my cheeks with boiling fervor.

How was I supposed to look at him the same knowing that he had a child with another woman? I didn’t want to share him with another person, and Kitten would be in his life forever now. Was he lying about not remembering sleeping with her? Was he just trying to soften the blow?

Did it even matter?

I clutch my heart, wishing that I could remove the pain from my chest and put it somewhere else.

My body slumps to the side, tears sliding down my cheek and plopping on the cold tile. I curl into a ball, hugging my legs into my chest.

I was supposed to go into work tomorrow, but how was I supposed to face him? How was I supposed to be around when my heart feels so uncertain and aches so badly?

Would he be kind? Would he be angry? Would he ignore me?

I wasn’t sure which would be worse.

Either way, I found myself utterly unable to leave my crumpled spot on the kitchen floor.

 

~~

 

By the time morning comes, my bones are stiff and my eyes are swollen and my heart remains broken into a thousand tiny jagged shards of what was once bliss. But I am determined to go into the office and get my work done and my paycheck in the bank no matter what.

If there was anything I’d learned from my parents, it was to put your chin up and push through the mires of life. The least I could do was continue that legacy of theirs.

My closet greets me, teeming with clothes perfectly fit for the office. Apparently not only had Grant stocked my fridge but my toiletries, pantry, and drawers as well.

I run my fingers over the fine clothing, opting instead to pull out a familiar pair of faded denim pants, pink ballet sandals with only a few dirt stains on them, and a black blouse that was very matronly but mildly appropriate for the workplace at least. In no mood to brush my hair or put on more than a dab of makeup, I pile my curls up at the crown my skull, twisting it into a bun.

Just as I’m turning to grab my purse and trudge to work, I notice that the top of my closet has been hastily rearranged. The old sweaters that no longer fit have been shuffled to the side, quilted blankets my mother had woven carefully by hand pulled free to dangle precariously over the shelf.

Frowning, I reach up, brushing my fingers along the fleecy fabrics before shoving my hand between the piles. My relieved fingertips brush the glossy cardboard of the treasured shoebox I’d stowed away back there after my parents’ death, hooking around the edge and tugging it free of its tucked away prison.

The weight of the box is a comfort as I retreat to my bed and pop it open, gazing down at the notes I’d kept. The papers were beginning to fade now, consisting of haphazardly collected notes like grocery lists and phone call doodles in my parents’ messy writing. Everything meant something after they were gone, even just my father’s signed receipt for fried chicken - his favorite Sunday meal.

I rifle through the old photos and papers, searching for the diamond earrings my mom had treasured. She’d never been materialistic, but these earrings were her one prized possession. She loved telling that story so much, I could still hear her recite it. Dad had gotten the earrings for her on the one month anniversary of their very first date. She’d been so stunned by the gesture that she burst into tears and begged him to return them. The two were poor students and she knew full well that he couldn’t afford such a thing. He told her he’d taken extra shifts to get them for her because he knew from the second they met that my mom was the woman he was going to spend the rest of his life with and he wanted to give her something special to commemorate that.

He’d been right, too. They were married six months later.

But something was wrong now.

The earrings were gone.

Frantic bubbles begin to rise inside of me as I knock the box over on the bed, dumping it on the neatly folded sheets. The papers flutter, the photos skitter, and yet there are no earrings to be seen.

Gasping for breath, I grab my cell, dialing Miki without thinking.

To my surprise, she answers after a single ring.

“Poppy?”

“The earrings.” I cry, tears running down my face, “The earrings are gone!”

“What earrings?”

“Mom’s! The ones in the box-”

“They can’t be gone…” Miki responds in confusion, “You keep that box in your closet, don’t you?”

“I just don’t know where they are…” My words vanish in a flurry of tears as I desperately dig through the slips of paper though I know the beautiful earrings are not there.

“I’m on my way.” Miki says hastily, “Don’t move. I’ll be there in a minute.”

The phone goes dead and I fall to my knees on the side of the bed, bawling my eyes out.

How could this happen? Where could they possibly have gone?

 

~~

 

“You probably just, like, moved them or something. Don’t you think?”

Miki and I stand at the front of my doorway, observing the room carefully. We’d overturned every single thing, dug through every single drawer, and checked every single pocket but the treasured jewelry remained missing.

“I’ve never worn them. Not once.” I sigh, running a hand through my now messy hair, “I just don’t understand, it’s like they vanished into thin air.”

My sister chews on her thumbnail, heaving a big sigh.

“They’re here somewhere and we’ll find them. But don’t you have work today?”

I suck in a startled breath, running back to where I’d dropped the phone on the kitchen counter when Miki arrived. Sure enough, there were several calls and texts from a worried Reagan… and one from Grant.

You don’t have to text me back but please call Reagan. I’m worried. He writes. I gaze at his words before deliberately closing the message.

“Damn.” I sigh, shaking my head, “I totally forgot…”

“Well you’re dating your boss so I think it’ll be fine.” Miki grins, her old playfulness shining through the pretty gold of her eyes. I resist the urge to wrap my arms tight around her and squeeze her to death. She’s so skinny now I’m worried I’ll snap her in two. 

I roll my eyes, slapping a hand over my head, “Ugh, don’t even get me started on that!”

“Uh-oh, trouble in paradise?” Miki asks with a laugh just as a sudden banging erupts on the door.

We go silent, locking eyes before creeping towards the door. Miki grabs the bat, wielding it with both hands as I quietly unlock the door and yank it open.

A figure rushes inside as Miki screams and lifts up the bat and suddenly we’re all hollering as loud as we can and Miki is chasing Reagan around the living room and I’m laughing so hard I collapse on the ground in a pile with tears running down my face and my stomach clenching from the bellows.

“I work with Poppy!” Reagan shrieks frantically as she cowers behind the couch, holding up her hands as Miki slowly lowers the bat with a simple, “Oh. Why didn’t you say so?”

“Reagan what are you doing here?” I ask, gasping for breath and clutching my strained lungs.

“Grant sent me.” She admits quickly, “Although though he told me not to say that. He’s worried sick about you.”

“Why wouldn’t he want Poppy to know?” Miki asks with a cock of her head, closing and locking our front door before an actual intruder could help himself to our very few possessions.

“Ah…” Reagan just looks between us, clearing her throat and shifting her feet, “I see you two haven’t talked yet.”

“We haven’t done much talking lately.” I shrug as Miki guiltily looks away before giving a tiny wave towards Reagan.

“Mikayla. Miki. Poppy’s sister.”

“Reagan Sherry. We work together.”

My sister shifts around uncomfortably under Reagan’s soft eyed stare. I can tell she’s thinking of Talia.

“Um…” Miki props the bat up by the door, “Anyway, about Grant? What’s going on?”

“Ugh, that is a long, long story that I don’t want to get into just yet.” I groan, covering my eyes as though I’ve got a raging migraine, “I’m still working out how I feel.”

Miki nods absently as her phone rings from the pocket of her tiny shorts. With a sigh, she withdraws it.

“Oh, it’s David.” Even just his name on her lips makes the light fizzle from inside her, like she’s a melting ice cube on the dirty kitchen floor.

She glances between us, clearing her throat and turning away, “I’m with Poppy.” She murmurs quietly into the cell, as though she doesn’t want us to hear her speaking, “Yes I’ve been here the whole time. No, there’s no one else here. Well. There is but it’s a girl… I’m serious, I’m not lying. Come over if you want-”

“No!” I cry abruptly, staring at Reagan in horror, “David can absolutely not come over now.”

Miki stares at me in surprise as David suddenly starts yelling from the phone at my objection.

“No, I swear, I don’t know what she’s talking about-”

I grab the phone from Miki, repeating once again that David is not allowed over before hanging up on him.

“What the hell, Poppy?!” Miki shrieks, “Do you know how angry he’s going to be at me?”

“David cannot come over right now.” I whisper, glancing towards an utterly bewildered Reagan behind me as my brain scrambles. They had to know, right this second, how they were now strangely tied together before David showed up banging on the door and Reagan is completely shocked.

“Reagan, I have something to tell you. Actually, I have something to tell you both.”

My mind runs a thousand miles a minute, trying to piece together the best way to share this sensitive, painful information. Is there a way for me to bring this up that won’t make Reagan relive that awful night?

“Miki, Reagan had a sister who died from a drunk driver.” I sputter, rubbing my suddenly throbbing temples, “Reagan, Miki is dating David, the drunk driver responsible.”

Okay. So much for being gentle. I’d just ripped the band-aid off a gushing wound with the grace of a clumsy bull.

My sister only continues to stare at me, replaying the words over and over again in her mind while Reagan slowly sinks down onto our couch. She stays there for a moment, then wets her lips gives a weak nod.

“David… David hurt somebody?” Mikayla mumbles with a disbelieving shake of her head.

“He killed somebody, Miki.” I frown, reaching forward to take her shoulders in my grasp, “He got away with it too. He didn’t spend a night in jail for it.”

“Well that must mean that it was really an accident.” Miki fumbles, pulling away from me with wide eyes, “I mean he would’ve gone to jail, right?”

“His parents are rich.” Reagan whispers hollowly from the couch, “He should’ve gone to jail. There’s no excuse to drive drunk. It was his crime but it was my sister who paid for it.”

“No.” Miki sputters, pulling back farther away, she stumbles toward the door, tears spilling down her face, “I don’t believe you! You’ve never liked David and now you’re just trying to make him sound even worse. I can’t believe I came all the way over to help you and you’d do something like this!”

“It’s not that at all, Miki!” I cry, chasing her but she shoves me away so hard that I fall backwards on the ground.

It doesn’t hurt but my pride and my feelings are scarred.

“Stay away from me and stay away from David!” She screams before rushing out the door. It bangs hard against the wall after her, leaving a hole in the wall where the doorknob is. In the breeze, it creaks softly closed once more.

Reagan kneels next to me on the ground, wrapping her arms around me tight as I turn to return the embrace I know she needs just as badly. But my eyes stay at the door, wishing for Miki to come back. Wishing for my parents to come back.

Grant had been right. If only we could go back in time.