“How’s your back?” she asks.
“Do you care?” I snap.
She studies my face. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”
“It’s fine,” I tell her. “Thanks for your concern.”
Her brow furrows. “Don’t be like that.”
“It’s difficult not to be, Mel, when you left me because of the injury. It’s a bit hypocritical to be asking about it now, don’t you think?”
“I didn’t leave you because of your injury,” she says.
“Oh, yeah, right. You left because it ‘changed me.’” I put sarcastic air quotes around the words. “As if I was expected to come through it all unscathed.”
“I left because you didn’t want me anymore,” she replies, a glimmer of tears in her eyes.
I glare at her. “What are you talking about?”
“You shut yourself off from me after the accident. You withdrew completely. You wouldn’t talk to me about it, about anything, in fact.” She’s gone pale. “I wanted to help you; I could see you were in pain, but I felt so alone. I was scared of marrying you when I wasn’t sure if we could go back to the way things were.”
“You hardly gave us time to find out,” I say harshly, my stomach churning.
“I know.” She bites her lip. “I met Terry, and I fell in love with him. He’s an open book, and it was so refreshing after being with you. You have padlock after padlock around your heart Fitz—you always did have, even before the accident. You said you loved me, but you always kept a large piece of yourself hidden from me.”
“I don’t even know what that means. I never kept any secrets from you.”
“I don’t mean secrets. I mean your feelings, what was in your heart.”
“So I don’t go around blurting out my emotions. Sue me!”
I’m aware that I’m raising my voice to a pregnant woman, and I force myself to lower it, to calm down. This is a pointless conversation. I don’t know what she’s trying to say, and she doesn’t understand that I didn’t make any conscious effort to keep anything from her. I don’t feel the need to discuss every thought that goes through my head. That’s just who I am. Poppy seems to understand that. Why didn’t Mel?
“I don’t want to argue,” she says. “I just wanted to say hi.”
“Well, you’ve said it.” Ashton comes out, so I say, “Good luck with the baby. Gotta go now.”
“Hey, Mel,” Ashton says, coming over to kiss her cheek. “You’re looking well.”
“Thanks.” She looks a bit upset and glances my way, but I turn and walk off, back to the car.
I’m breathing heavily, struggling to contain my emotion. I wish Poppy was here, with her mad hair and her calm manner. I think of the way she stood behind me in the shower this morning and slid her arms around me. She didn’t have to say anything; that brief touch demonstrated her sympathy, and her affection for me.
I wish she was mine. I wish I had someone of my own. I’m lonely, and bitter, and I don’t want to continue living that way. But Poppy’s not looking for a companion. I think I’m destined to be lonely and bitter for the rest of my life.
Clouds are moving over the sun, promising rain. Carpe diem, Fitz. Forget about anything else.
Chapter Sixteen
Poppy
I arrive back at the Ark mid-afternoon. I park out front, walk past the half-built veterinary center, cross to the new office building, and go inside. It smells of paint and varnish—the smell of promise and excitement. Or is it just me, looking forward to seeing Marc again?
“Hey,” Ashton calls out as I pass the meeting room, and I stop in the doorway.
“Hi.” I lift up the tray of takeaway coffees in my hand. “I called in at the Riverbank on the way past.”
“Excellent. We were just ready for a break.”
I go into the room and see Marc sitting on the floor, his back to the wall. Papers and plans lie all over the carpet in front of him, some covered in his neat, round handwriting. He looks up as I walk in, his eyes meeting mine, and I feel an electric shock hit me and run all the way down my body.