Poppy’s eyes dart from me to my sister and back again, looking at us like we’re crazy. But then she smiles. “I do.”
It’s a fight to keep my face neutral and to resist the urge to turn around and glare at my sister.
“Well then, come in.” I move away from the door, letting Poppy in. She’s slightly limping and winces when she bends down to greet the dogs, who are not so patiently waiting for belly rubs. Neither one of them are any decent at being guard dogs, really.
“Are you okay?” I ask her.
“My Friesian decided to be a little sassy today when I was leading her in from the pasture and she stepped on my foot. I’ll be fine.”
“Ouch. Is anything broken?”
“I’m hoping not.” Poppy gets back to her feet. “It was fun getting my boot off.” She makes a face and I know exactly what she’s talking about, having gotten stepped on a time or two.
“You horse people are crazy,” Louisa says, shaking her head.
“We are,” I admit. “Louisa, this is Poppy. Poppy, this is my sister Louisa, which I already said.”
“Do you live nearby?” Poppy asks Louisa as we go into the kitchen.
“No, I live in Chicago with my wife,” Louisa replies, grabbing another glass from the cabinet as I go back to opening the wine.
“Oh, you came a long way just for a visit.”
“It wasn’t too bad of a drive, and I know how much Jo needs her big sis from time to time. Right, Jo?”
“Oh, totally,” I say flatly, and we laugh. Once the wine is poured, we all sit around the table and an awkward silence falls over us. I stare at Louisa, wishing she can read my thoughts, so she’d know that I’m silently cursing her.
“So,” Poppy starts, taking a drink of wine. “Dr. Harris’s brother…easy ten out of ten. That man has magic fingers.”
“Wait, what?” Louisa is suddenly interested.
“Dr. Harris,” Poppy repeats and I get a flash of Jacob. I bet he has magic fingers—stop it. “He’s our vet. We ran into him and his total snack of a brother last week at a bar.”
“You went to a bar.” Louisa kicks me under the table. “And met up with men?”
“It’s not out of the question.” I take a small sip of wine. “I go out every once in a while.”
“You do?” Poppy asks, and the genuine curiosity makes my sister laugh.
“My sister is a fuddy-duddy,” Louisa goes on.
“I am not,” I immediately counter. “I like fun and I like men. I just…I haven’t had the best luck with them.”
“That’s why you should bat for the other team.” Louisa holds up her wine glass and wiggles her eyebrows. “It’s so much better.”
“Trust me, I would if I could,” I say ruefully. “If I could swear off the dick forever, I totally would.”
“I’m guessing this has to do with your daughter’s dad. I can’t imagine he stuck around being a teen dad and all, right?” Poppy asks, not minding boundaries yet again.
“It starts there.”
“I always hated that asshole,” Louisa says, narrowing her eyes. “I’m glad I got my precious niece out of it, but Josh is and always will be nothing but a dead-beat loser.”
“He is,” I agree, and hope Everly doesn’t overhear. It’s a tricky thing…I don’t want her to hate anyone. It’s not worth her time and energy. But she knows her father made the choice to stay out of both our lives, and she came to her own feelings about him on her own.
And she’s pretty much indifferent to him. She knows he said he’d be there and then left right after she was born. She also knows he’s never contributed to anything, and that she has another set of grandparents who pretend that she doesn’t exist because it was easier than dealing with two unprepared teenagers who suddenly became parents.
“I’ve kind of given up,” I admit. “Besides, I have Everly and now all this.” I wave my hand around the house. “It keeps me plenty busy.”
“You’ve given everything you possibly can to your daughter,” Louisa goes on, eyes glossing over a bit. She’s only emotional when she’s drinking and tonight will be no exception. “You deserve love, sis. And someone will come along and realize just what a catch you are.”
“I just…I don’t have the best luck,” I say, hoping to sum this conversation up. “And dating is hard when you’re a single parent.”
Louisa, able to sense my discomfort, changes the subject. “So, you must have horses too.” We talk about horses, and Louisa brings up her favorite horse show memory that, of course, is one of my least favorite.
“Wait, you drank two mimosas?” Poppy laughs. “And nobody stopped you?”
“I remember getting a funny look,” I say back, laughing as well. “And I thought the orange juice tasted bad, but I needed to rush to my class, so I downed two glasses.”