One Day Fiance

Daysha holds a finger to her lips, telling Becca, “Shh, maybe they’ll forget we’re here and we’ll figure out what the fuck is going on with some decent context clues. And Julia Roberts is too old to play Poppy, but she could play her mom.”

“Emma Stone?” Aleria suggests.

Slowly, Connor puts me down, but he keeps me curled into his side, his arm around my shoulders like he can’t bear to not touch me. Or maybe like he’s afraid I’ll end up doing something crazy again.

But I only have one thing on my mind.

“Uh, thanks, ladies, but I gotta get going now.”

“But your book!” Jasmine reminds me before rolling her eyes. “Fuck it, you’ll get it done.”

“Yeah,” Connor growls. “I’ll make sure she finishes, but we’ve got some shit to straighten out first.”

Daysha snickers. “Just make sure she can form a coherent thought when you’re done, and maybe still type, or else you’re going to be the one taking dictation!”

“Dick-tation!” Becca repeats, putting a lewd emphasis on the first syllable. “I’m stealing that one!” She holds a finger out, implying an erect penis, and then makes a tapping motion as though someone could actually type with their dick.

“All yours,” Daysha tells her easily. “That’s not really my style in my books.”

While Becca and Jasmine encourage Daysha to introduce an occasional light moment into her super dark, twisted stories, Connor shoves my laptop into my bag and slips it over his own head to carry it. Holding his hand out to me, he entwines his fingers with mine and kisses my temple. It feels special and intimate, as though I’m precious to him.

“Let’s go home.”

Chapter 28

Connor

As soon as the door to Poppy’s place opens, all hell breaks loose. I’m swarmed by a duo of fluffy, white-furred hype machines who yap and jump and smile big, pink-tongued doggy grins when they realize I’m back. All the while, they completely ignore Poppy, who’s watching the whole scene with a pouty lip. I can almost see the thought bubble over her head reading, ‘what about me?’

“I see how it is, you ungrateful brats,” she scolds them. She’s amused more than anything else, her eyes smiling even if she sounds disgusted by her pups. “Was Connor feeding you more biscuits than I do?”

I give Poppy a chance to drop her computer bag on the dining table, then snap my fingers, and both dogs calm instantly and sit at attention, their eyes on me. “Settle . . . good boys.”

Poppy’s jaw drops open, and her eyes go wide as Nut and Juice sit still as stones, although Juice’s tail is wagging so hard his butt’s going side to side on the carpet. “Show off!” she says, grinning. “Okay, Mr. Dog Whisperer, how’d you do that? Teach me your ways.”

I lower my hand, ‘releasing’ the boys from their pose as I kneel down and start to scratch them under their chins. After a ridiculously tiny amount of affection, both dogs lie down to give me their bellies. I scratch them there too, praising their excellent behavior. “I had several days to work with them. That and a bag of treats goes a long way. Nut is easy, wants to learn, and Juice wants to do whatever his brother does.”

I got to know both dogs pretty well during those lonely days while I was separated from Poppy. At first, I’d tried to stay at my place next door and only come over to take care of the boys. But I missed Poppy so much and wanted any connection with her that I could have, so I needed to be in her space. Sitting on her couch, smelling her shampoo, and hugging her pillow were the only things that kept me sane. And kept me from scouring the hotels I know Hunter uses as safe houses to find her.

When I stand up, Poppy’s eyes are on me and she looks uncertain. I can feel it too. The excitement of the moment we saw each other again is passing, and the questions are rising once again. It helps to know that we’re in the same place emotionally, the declarations of love real and spontaneous, but there’s a lot for us to share. Not all of it is going to be easy and comfortable.

“Let’s sit down,” I offer, pointing toward the couch. “I know you need to work, but if you can give me a few minutes, I want to tell you everything.” I shake my head. “No, I need you to know everything,” I rephrase, baring my soul with the words. I’ve never been able to tell someone everything, but with Poppy, it’s something I have to do. For myself, and . . . “You deserve that. I want this to be your happily ever after, and that means doing the hard things too.”