One Day Fiance

She bites me on the chin but soothes it over with a gentle kiss, and relief washes through me like a tidal wave. I don’t deserve her, never have and probably never will, but I’ll fuck up anyone who tries to take her from me. For now, though, I cuddle her, letting her cling to me no matter how much Nut and Juice want to sniff around our heads wondering what the hell we’re doing at their level.

She lifts her head, and I kiss her lips softly. There’s still fear in my heart, still disbelief that this can be real or long-term. Most of all, though, I’m terrified that the darkness in my life will tear her away from me.

“Are you sure, Poppy?” I ask. “There’s . . . a lot of crazy shit in my life.”

Poppy shrugs, petting my chest lightly as though she can wipe away the small, and well deserved, swats she leveled there before. “As sure as I ever am.”

I wish she could say with absolute conviction that she’s sure, but it’s a lot to take in, so that’ll have to be enough for now. I’m still worried about losing her. I’m honestly not sure if I even have her in the first place.

Carefully, we sit up, and I lean back against the front of the couch with Poppy in my arms. The floor is less comfortable than the couch, but at least in this position, the dogs aren’t sniffing my ear anymore.

“How did you figure it out?”

Poppy shifts in my lap, perfectly content to be where she is for the moment. “That fucking asshole detective came by today, asking questions like I would help him out after he blew me off about my laptop being taken.”

I freeze, stiffening. Poppy feels it and leans back, looking me in the eyes. “Connor, it’s okay. Really.”

“Somebody came by?” I ask, praying I misheard her. “Asking questions? Who?”

That’s more questions in a row than I’ve probably ever said, and Poppy’s reaction shows that. Her brows drop down in concern. “Relax. I didn’t tell him anything.”

I take a deep breath, knowing that if she were going to turn me in, she’d have done it already. I would have been greeted at the door by the cops, and not her.

“Okay. Tell me what happened.”

She wiggles, getting up on the couch again, and I follow, the two of us facing each other again in almost the same positions we started this conversation in. But we’re together, I can sense that.

She starts her story, her hands waving wildly as she recounts the details. “His name’s Detective Jax Carter, and he’s what happened. He’s the guy who was so fucking condescending the night you took my laptop that I flipped my shit right there at the station.”

I lift a brow wryly, having seen what a shit-flipping Poppy looks like.

“Yeah, yeah, it was stupid but completely warranted,” Poppy admits. “He called a few days ago too, said he had a lead, but we were already working on it, so I knew he couldn’t know more than we did, and so I told him to go fuck himself. Anyway, he showed up today, started saying they were suddenly interested in what I had to say because The Black Rose was replaced with a replica.”

I wince, knowing that was the weakness in the whole plan. Honestly, I didn’t think anyone would discover the reproduction for a long while. It wasn’t perfect, but it was good enough that it should’ve escaped detection for years.

“Fuck,” I spit out, suddenly much more worried. “What else did he know? What did you tell him?”

At my poorly worded question that could be taken as accusation, she glares at me angrily. Sarcasm drips from every word as she ticks off on her fingers, “Well, you know, just that I knew who’d stolen my laptop, so he’s probably the art thief too. Oh, and that you live next door and would be home shortly. The SWAT team is in my laundry nook waiting to arrest you.”

First, I know Nut and Juice would be going apeshit if there were strangers in the house. So the rest of that’s probably lies too. “Poppy. This is serious.”

“No shit,” Poppy says, going serious again. “But Connor, I didn’t tell him anything. Actually, I tried to get information for you. The other security guards you worked with don’t remember your name, so that’s a dead end. I told him that I hadn’t had any luck finding the security guard myself. There’s no reason for Detective Carter to link my next-door neighbor to the stolen laptop or The Black Rose. So unless you did a shitty job handing off the painting, you should be in the clear.”

“Other than the bag and the laptop, my part went as planned,” I tell her. “What the other guy did . . . well, he’s even more smoke in the wind than I am.”