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“I’m aware,” Uncle Dan responds, a hint of a smile in his voice. “I’ve had eyes on Harper since we got that intel from her. I offered her a job, which she quite ungraciously declined. But you know me.” I can almost see the determined grin on his face.
“I do, Uncle Dan, but Harper isn't one to be easily swayed unless it’s heavily in her favor.”
“Hmm, interesting,” he muses thoughtfully. “Listen, go back to your day, act normal, and let me look into this. I'll call you tomorrow with any updates.” Uncle Dan orders.
The anxiety in my stomach twists tighter. “I don’t want to lie to Poppy, Uncle Dan,” I confess, feeling the weight of my own secrets. I should've told her about Theo sooner. I was just... afraid of losing her. I needed her to love me before I delivered that blow.
“I’m going to talk to her now,” I reply.
There's a pause filled with unspoken understanding. “You really love her, don’t you?” he asks, his voice unusually soft.
“Yes.”
“I can tell. It’s easy to lie to those we don't care about; it's torturous with those we love, even when we're trying to protect them.” His voice trails off, leaving me wondering about his own hidden battles.
“I’ll have a team there tomorrow. Let her know.”
I nod, even though he can't see, and make my way to my walk-in closet. “Thanks, Uncle Dan.”
“Love you,” he says before the line goes dead.
I quickly change into fresh clothes, my mind racing with thoughts of Poppy. As I reach for the doorknob, my fingers hesitate. Life is easy when you are single and don’t have a lover to care about or protect.
Easy gets boring; it's like eating the same bland food every meal, every single day.
Sharing your life with a partner is torment and pleasure combined into an unstoppable storm. You feel the wind cool you and invigorate you, but it also whiplashes you when times are turbulent.
I’m not afraid of a storm on the horizon; I know my strengths, and I know I can protect Poppy and keep our love alive.
I just need her to let me.
Chapter 51
Poppy
I wonder if I should paint the walls? Hmmm…
A throat clears, actually, it’s more like a growl that Harper produces. Ignoring her is like trying to outrun a cheetah. Not happening.
I just need a few more seconds of escape. That’s all I need, then I'll panic about what Julian told me, like how the maintenance man in my apartment was an imposter, a stranger likely in cahoots with the Russians trying to blackmail him. Julian fears that his life will affect mine. I don’t want this to make him push me away.
My gaze drifts over my living room. Why does it still not feel right? Something is missing. I've added a few pieces of furniture, yet the space feels alien, missing those unique touches that would make it truly mine. The large, empty wall near the entrance begs for a bold piece of art and a welcoming runner.
While scrolling through Pinterest, inspiration struck me to create my own artwork for the wall, but I'm not sure I can squeeze in the time. That, and it might look like a kindergartener did it.
Is that the vibe I want when entering my home—Hey, a child lives here?
I want to fool people into believing I'm a refined, capable adult. Maybe I should stick to HomeGoods or… give up on this apartment and just crash at Julian’s.
“Poppy,” Julian's voice, tinged with worry, pulls me back from my thoughts.
Time to focus, Poppy. Pull in the big girl panties that you want Julian to peel off you later.
I can't help but wonder if the intruder took notice of my apartment's details, like the artless wall. My eyes settle on Julian, sitting on the edge of my new couch, leaning forward with his forearms resting on his thighs. He looks like he's ready to spring up and catch me if I collapse. His tanned biceps flex, stirring an urge in me to reach out and touch them. His jaw is clenched tight, and his short, dark hair is perfectly trimmed, enhancing his handsome features. But it's his eyes, stormy grey like an impending storm, that hold me captive. Just hours ago, they were dancing with relaxation and desire, but now they're clouded with concern.
Harper stands suddenly, her hand that was resting on my thigh in comfort now shooting up in the air, as if she's summoning a lightning bolt to strike down her anger, probably aimed at me.
“What the fuck, Poppy! You let someone into your apartment alone. Haven't I taught you anything?” Her voice hisses, her blonde hair whirling around her head like a tempest. Her blue eyes aren't just angry; they're hurt, betraying a sense of disloyalty. She's been my rock, the reason I kept fighting through the darkest times. Her protectiveness is a shield she wields, born from not wanting me or her to suffer another loss.
