Page 72 of Smooth Talk

“Sure, angel. Just give me a minute with your mama. I’ll be right there.” She skips happily out of the living room and into the kitchen. Before I can get out my apology or explanation Poppy speaks, keeping her voice low.

“I was worried sick. I called your mom when I couldn’t get ahold of you. You better have the best explanation ever,” she says giving me a hard stare while walking to sit next to me on the couch. If this is her ‘disappointed mom glare,’ I feel bad for Harp.

“You know what; I’m going to get some water and ibuprofen, because it looks like you need it as much as I do, and then we are going to sit on this couch and have a discussion.” She’s so awesome. All level-headed and shit, even when she’s livid. Not running away. I’m so proud of her. I can’t wait to marry this woman. Whoa. That came out of nowhere. But damn, seriously, I want to put a ring on it.

I stretch out on the couch popping every joint in my body and wait for her. My head feels shitty. My body feels shitty. I haven’t felt this shitty since my last college hangover. And I’m pretty sure if I was still 22, I would’ve already rallied by now. Dang, I feel old, and I didn’t even really drink last night. I didn’t sleep well on this couch, and yesterday was so draining. I wish I’d had Poppy by my side, but at the same time I was thankful she didn’t have to go through all of it. She’ll have to now, though.

She sets the glass and tablets on the table and waits for me to consume them, which I do. My mouth is no longer dry, but I need something in my belly and some coffee. Oh God, do I need coffee. I look at Poppy, she’s in no mood to wait any longer. I need to start talking. Don’t say anything stupid; start with something good.

“You’re beautiful,” well as first thoughts go, it was positive, but NOT what she needs to hear right now, idiot. “I’m sorry Poppy.”

“You’re sorry for calling me beautiful… or something else?”

“You are beautiful, I’m not sorry about that. I’m thankful for that. Shi-shoot, this isn’t coming out the way I want. Full disclosure, I didn’t sleep well last night, and I might be a little delirious from going two nights without sleep.” She raises her eyebrows at me but says nothing.

“Okay, let me start over. I’m sorry for not calling. My phone got smashed yesterday and no one had your number, and I couldn’t get a new phone, because it was Sunday. And nothing’s open here on Sundays. I tried to get in touch with my mom, so she could call you, so I guess we both called her yesterday, but she was in a place that doesn’t have service. I even had Jake message Emma, but apparently, it’s harvest season and she goes to bed before fu-freaking Wheel of Fortune comes on. Sorry. I really am trying to curse less; I’m just frustrated right now.”

I don’t know why I’m including all this extemporaneous bullshit with my explanation. I’m rambling, and I need to get to my point quickly. What happened to the smooth-talking lady’s man I was mere months ago? I’ll tell you what happened, or rather, who. Poppy. She discombobulates me. Half the time I’m so turned on, I don’t know what I’m saying. The other half I’m daydreaming about her and can’t even converse with people about anything relevant.

Speaking of Poppy, right now she looks… I’m not sure. I can’t tell if she’s going to slap me to keep me focused or kiss me because I’m adorable. Her facial expression keeps waffling, and my brain’s too hazy to keep up. “I came over as soon as everyone left and everything was done, but it was late, and I thought it’d be rude to wake you up, especially after I realized you were in bed with Harp, and I definitely didn’t want to wake her up. So, I came back down here, poured myself a bourbon and crashed on the couch. Me and O had worked out a plan last night: I was going to wake up early, grab apology bagels and coffee, explain everything to you while Bev picked up my new phone, then I’d go to the bank and get everything straightened out there. What time is it?”

She’s looking at me trying to take in everything I’ve said, but she doesn’t look mad anymore. She looks hurt and confused. Shit, I just realized I never told her anything about the money. I wanted to protect her. I wasn’t trying to exclude her. We didn’t tell anyone that didn’t need to know. Man, I’m fucking shit up.

She’s waiting; giving me a chance to explain before she reacts. It’s a glimpse into our future; the new Poppy. She isn’t a runner; she’s strong, fair and so freaking patient. I’m a lucky bastard. A lucky bastard with some splaining to do.

“It’s almost 7:00, Gray. I understand the timeline you’ve given; I got Oliver’s text this morning. Apparently, he got my number from someone named Buddy. He said you were ok; your phone was broken, and you’d talk to me in the morning. I went to bed early, which is why I didn’t get it last night when he sent it.”

“I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

She holds up her hand to cut me off, “You did worry me, but what I don’t understand is how, what or why any of this happened. Why were Jake and Oliver at your house? Who’s Buddy? What happened with Presley? And most importantly, are congratulations in order?” Huh? Why would she congratulate me? It takes me a second to realize. Oh shit, she must’ve overheard the initial part of my conversation with Presley. I need to clear that up before I go into the whole Jamie story. I am not going to be a father. Yet, anyway. She’s on the verge of tears, so I lead with that.

“No, Presley’s pregnant. It’s not mine.” She lets out a loud breath, followed by a little sob; I pull her to me and hold her. Her shoulders are shaking. She’s been thinking about that since yesterday afternoon and all evening too. And I didn’t call her or come over. She’s holding up much better than I would in her shoes.

“I’m so sorry Pop. I should’ve come to you yesterday, before everyone got there. I was so amped up with the news; I wasn’t thinking. I took Gun for a run to clear my head. I knew you’d worry. I feel terrible. I should’ve insisted you come back after picking up Harper. I should’ve told you everything from the start, but we wanted to keep things quiet until we knew more. I’m an idiot. I’m so sorry, baby.”

She pulls back, tears staining her beautiful face. “Don’t ever do that to me again.” She slaps my chest. “I thought you were having a baby with her, and I’d have to deal with her baby-mama-drama the rest of my life.” A slight smile pulls at the corner of her lips, but her furrowed brow remains. It’s why it takes me a second to realize what she’s said. She wants to be with me forever too!

“No baby, if you never want to see Presley again, that’s fine with me; I’ll make it happen.”

She shakes her head. “No. No, you’re old friends. Your families are friends. I don’t want things to be awkward because of me.”

“Believe me, there’s nothing you could do to strain the relationship any further than it is right now. Some crazy shit went down yesterday. Actually, some crazy shit’s been going down for months. I need to tell you all about it. But I really need coffee first. Sorry. I just need some caffeine in my system, or I really am gonna die.”

She smiles at me, shaking her head, slowly standing, “Me too; I had one too many glasses of wine last night over the phone with Sara.”

“Oh no. Does she hate me?”

“No, she said there was a logical explanation for everything and to wait to hear your side of the story before I jumped to conclusions or pushed you away.

“Remind me to thank her later.”

“Mhmm. Let’s go grab some coffee and pop tarts, then we can hop in the shower; I have to run Harp to school in thirty, and she’ll want you to come with. I had Hilary push my morning appointments back to this afternoon.”

“You’re the best.”

“I know.” She’s smirking, but before she gets too far away, I pull her back into my arms, against my body, and kiss her.

“Forgive me, Sweet Cheeks?” She nods smiling at me. “I’m thankful you’re on my side. You’re a little scary when you’re mad.” She pinches my side, making me laugh. We’re gonna be okay.

“I love you, Poppy.” She squirms out of my hold and spins around.

“I know.” She winks and playfully swats my butt before walking toward the kitchen. “C’mon. I’m starving. Let’s get all this stuff done; I can’t wait for story time when we get back. I have a feeling it’s gonna be a doozy.” She walks toward the coffeemaker, grabbing a cup and handing it to me. Her fingers linger on mine while she presses her lips to my cheek and whispers, “I love you too, Gray.”

I’m so fucking lucky. She’s way too good for me. Too good to me. Guess I’ll just have to try harder to deserve her. Something tells me it might take a lifetime of trying. And I’m looking forward to it.

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