Page 1 of Smooth Talk

Prologue

Poppy – 18 months ago

Standing in the entryway of our tri-level brownstone, surrounded by the boxed-up aftermath of our former life, I wonder just how in the heck I got here. I mean, I know how it happened; I listed the house the same day I filed, and as fate would have it; I closed on the house the same day my marriage officially ended. I had two weeks to remove everything from the premises and I wasn’t wasting any time. I had big plans with my bestie, Sara, and Señor Patrón tonight.

Just three years shy of 30, jobless, with a child and a failed marriage under my belt, tail firmly tucked, I’m heading home to Willow Creek, South Carolina, a far cry from life in the big city. To live with my parents. It’s just until I find a house for Harper and me, nothing fancy. I need to conserve the majority of my funds to start my company. I thought at this point in my life I’d have a few kids, a doting husband, a beautiful home, a thriving business and life would be, for lack of a better word, perfect. Life, as it turns out, has quite the sense of humor, and I was about to be the punchline.

But before I get to the knock heard round the world, let me give you a bit of backstory. I grew up in a tiny town just outside of Charleston, founded by a like-minded community of land preservationists in 1896. It’s quiet, quaint and quirky, with a tourist-driven economy. Blessed with lakes, rivers and equally vast swatches of forestry and farmland, the locals chose to capitalize on the beauty surrounding them. Not to mention the artesian mineral spring that had people flocking here for its health benefits in the early twenties and is still a trendy spot for tourists today.

Willow Creek is one of the best destinations for hikers, cyclists and outdoor adventurers in the South, and with just over 18,000 residents in Westwood County, it maintains a small-town ambiance. Downtown’s charming brick, ivy- covered buildings and tree-lined streets draw people from miles around to our shops, restaurants and annual parades and festivals. Our historic squares are equally popular among locals and tourists alike. The amphitheater on Lincoln overflows with spectators for a six-weekend-long Summer Concert Series every year as well as the local theater company’s seasonal productions. The large mermaid fountain on Poplar has become a ‘gram-worthy proposal site. And the gazebo on Azalea (surrounded by lush green grass periodically disrupted by Spanish moss-covered elm and oak trees) boasts the number three spot in South Magazine’s top ten romantic ceremony destinations.

As beguiling as it is beautiful, I count myself lucky to have called it home for the entirety of my youth. It’s grown so much since I left almost a decade ago, but there are some things that always remain the same. From its inception, the locals came together to build up the small business community and that support has only grown stronger in recent years. One of the reasons I’m planning on returning.

Working, the five years after graduating from NYU, at Harold’s, THE interior design firm in New York, I felt I was ready to branch out on my own. After tossing a grenade at my personal life six months ago, I wanted a fresh start. Away from the all the drama and any reminder of our life with Reed. I wanted to erase him from our lives like he’d erased us from his. I wanted to run away from it all.

My newly minted ex, Reed Langford—handsome, charismatic, a genius with numbers; turns out, a bit of a snake in the grass as well. I literally ran into him one morning while rushing out of a Starbucks on my way to class. Books, papers and coffee cups exploded into the air, arms went flailing and I landed square on my bottom on a decidedly hard sidewalk in Greenwich Village. I looked up into the most mesmerizing pair of blue eyes I’d ever seen, he smiled and apologized in a deep Texas drawl and that’s all it took. I was smitten. He helped me up, collected my things and insisted on buying me another coffee. I never made it to class that day.

He was a senior at Columbia, majoring in finance and interning at a large investment firm. I was thrilled that a guy as good looking and ambitious as Reed was interested in me. My ego had recently taken not one, but two, hits and I was nursing some emotional bruises. My vulnerable state left me thirsty for every compliment he was willing to give. And when we first started dating, he gave them freely. Reed exhausted what little free time he had with me, and each second that we spent together, he made me feel special. A couple of weeks into dating, he introduced me to his friends, i.e.: frat bros, as his girlfriend. I should have known that type of constant, devoted attention couldn’t last. Reed was a big fish in a big pond; I was a minnow in the Atlantic. He had so many other people vying for his attention and eventually gave all his time to everyone but me. The only real friend I’d managed to make, in my three months living here, had been my roommate, Sara. The only loyal friend I still have in the city to this day, as it turns out.

Reed was offered a position at the firm he’d interned at after graduation. I, like so many others, was drawn to him. His drive was one of the things I found most alluring. Reed was going places. I was more than happy to tag along.

Fast forward a few years later I found myself focused on a budding career, married to a workaholic with a large circle of acquaintances. Looking back now, I should’ve realized it wasn’t all peaches and cream. Reed was distancing himself before we were even engaged, it only got worse after we were married. Worse still when he opened his own firm with his best friend and fellow Sigma Phi bro, Jay. Our relationship had dwindled to passing ships in the night when I found myself pregnant with Harper, and virtually bordered on non-existent shortly after.

My daddy used to say, ‘Show me a relationship that works, and I’ll show you two people working hard at it.’ Reed no longer cared about me and he certainly didn’t care if our marriage failed. I’d begged him to try, to go to counseling with me, anything. I thought he blamed me, blamed Harp, for the changes in our lives, and he had given up on us. It’s hard to be the only one fighting to save a relationship, especially when your partner thinks, ‘marriage is supposed to be like this. People drift apart. Just because we’re not madly in love anymore, doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. We should stay together. Think of Harper.’

I was equally guilty of allowing the distance to grow for as long as I did. But Reed refused to acknowledge the need to work on us. I stayed as long as I did to give us a chance, at first hopeful that Reed would change his mind, and then so Harper would have the benefit of a two-parent household. He constantly reminded me it was what was best for our daughter, and I believed him until it became crystal clear he wasn’t interested in parenting. The day he talked about sending our four-year-old to boarding school when she was ready next year, I was done. To be honest, with his upbringing, I don’t think he knew how to be a parent. His travelled a lot, and even when they were at home, they were distant. I’m not even sure he had a close relationship with his nannies (that’s right, plural—as in more than one). I’m sure he loved Harp in his own way. He’d grown up thinking love was money and he showed his with gifts; he didn’t understand that we needed his time, his effort, his care. I thought it had been apathy that had ended us, but it was most likely a combination of greed and guilt.

Reed hadn’t been opposed to having a couple of kids in a decade or so, once our careers were well established, but I could have never guessed his reaction would be so horrifying when things didn’t go according to that plan. One night out on the town with Sara where I’d forgotten to take my pill had resulted in the most beautiful opportunity. Because while Harper had been an accident, she wasn’t a mistake. I still remember our argument like yesterday.

“We’ve only been married a year, this is supposed to be our honeymoon phase, Poppy. We’ve got our whole lives ahead of us. It’s just too soon.” He looked at me with pleading eyes. “Besides, with the firm being so new, I’ve been spending a lot of late nights there. I just don’t have the time to dedicate to a family right now. Why not own up to it and fix the mistake? It’s not too late to take care of this.”

“Take care of this? ‘This’ is our child, Reed. I couldn’t possibly contemplate purposely ending a life simply because the timing is inconvenient,” I seethed. “You know I’ve always wanted kids and it’s not like we can’t afford it. I know it’s not the best timing, but everything happens for a reason. I know that as soon as you meet her, you’ll change your mind.”

He’d sighed resignedly, “her, huh?’ the smallest of smiles ghosting his lips. “Surely my first-born will be a boy. The Langford genes are strong.”

“I don’t think it works that way,” I’d laughed.

“Poppy, if we’re going to go through with this, things are going to have to change.” I nodded in agreement. I thought he’d meant that this would bring us closer together. We’d communicate more, he’d spend more time at home, we’d be a family unit. He shattered that illusion almost as quickly as I’d created it.

“With the money we’ve both invested in the firm, I can’t allow it to fail. We’re doing all right now, but I want to make sure we do well enough to support a family. I want to grow it into something great.” He smiled like he knew that he was saying everything I’d ever wanted to hear. “I’ll probably need to spend even more time at work to make sure we’re financially sound. And with me taking on more hours, you’ll probably need to cut back a little. Of course, we’ll hire help, but you don’t really want to work full time after having a baby, do you?”

His question gave me pause. My parents had both worked when I was a child. My mother, a music lover, gave lessons in our home and my father taught history at a nearby community college. My mom hadn’t really needed to work; she did it as a way to pursue her passion and instill a love of music in others, and as a result I play a few instruments proficiently. My father’s parents had been affluent and while they hadn’t fully approved of the marriage of my parents, they had doted on me.

My father wasn’t a trust fund brat, but his parents had surprised him when they gifted him the house I grew up in as a graduation present. My dad had surprised them, that same day, when he introduced his new wife. They’d threatened to take back their gift, to disinherit him, until my mother announced the reason for their rushed nuptials, she was, of course, with child. They weren’t thrilled with the idea of their only child saddling himself with a family at twenty-four years of age. Before he’d completed his doctorate, traveled the world or even started a career that would provide for said family. But my father remained steadfast that this was the right thing to do. Not just for his child, but for the woman he was madly in love with. The woman he’s been madly in love with for 30 years now. When I was born, my grandparents fell in love with me and, consequently, graciously updated their wills. Upon their deaths, (due to a tragic cruise ship accident) when I was twenty-two, I inherited a large sum of money. I lost both grandparents too soon; I’d much rather have had a few more years with them than the money I received. That being said, I’d given a healthy portion of it to Reed for start-up funds.

“I won’t give up one dream to pursue another, Reed. Women all over the world have careers while simultaneously successfully raising children. We’ll need to learn to compromise. I’ll cut back to part-time at Harold’s.” I paused, watched him nod at me like he agreed. “But I need you to be a part of this family too. I don’t want our daughter growing up without a father. I want you to have a relationship with her. Teach her things, take her on dates, make sure she knows how loved she is.”

He looked at me like he knew he didn’t have a choice in the matter and while he wasn’t thrilled, he was willing to try. That’s all I wanted. All we needed. For him to try. “I can’t just stop working, but I will make an effort to be involved.”

“We’ll be fine Reed; we have enough money that we can both slow down a little and make this work.”

“There’s no such thing as ‘enough money,’ Poppy. I’m going to do my best to make sure our son has the kind of life we have, the kind of opportunities we do. But I also promise to love him and be here for him.”

He seemed so genuine; I couldn’t stop the smile spreading across my face. It wasn’t the perfect answer, but it had given me hope for our future. Turns out, that hope was in vain, because no matter how you slice it, the man was an actor. A liar. I’m still not entirely certain if Reed was incapable of telling me the truth, or if his lies were inclusive of everyone, even himself. It wasn’t the first lie he had told me that I’d believed, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

The sharp knocking on the front door, pulls me out of the past. The movers must be early. If I’d realized the delivery person on the other side of the door had a bag filled with crap sandwiches that I was going to be forking over a good portion of my money to have the pleasure of taking a daily bite, I wouldn’t have so cheerily opened up.

We hadn't heard from Reed in days as he was ‘travelling for business,’ and his reach of fatherhood extended mainly to his wallet and not the phone. Now, even that little courtesy was about to be denied.

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