Page 53 of Make The Cut

“I’m going home now. Bye!” Poppy lets the door slam shut just as quickly as she came, her face white and shocked in the dim lighting.

Why do I feel guilty?

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Poppy Black

I’ve barely spoken to Naoya aside from a professional capacity since I saw him holding Rose. I can’t think about his personal drama or his publicity-fueled romances. Instead, I have to focus on my own career. My own life. Not keeping tabs on my brother’s life from afar or helping others succeed. Not even capitalizing off of others’ fame and success withMuse Unmasked.

No, it’s time for me to build my own life. My own career. On my own terms.

And I’ll have to tell Colette my answer to her offer soon.

But not today. Today, I arrived separately from Naoya at the Rose and Blanc tea room, despite his assistant—Mitchell’s—insistence on getting shots of us in the taxi together on the way there. I refuse to spend more time with the man than I have to. It’ll only confuse me even more. And like I said… I don’t have time for dating. No matter how much his words about never getting married ring in my ears, I don’t need to think about them.

“So, Naoya, the last time you were here, you were spotted with your ex-girlfriend, Rose,” Mitchell says as we enter the pink and white space.

“Yes, and?” He sounds bored.

“So, shortly after that she got engaged,” Mitchell says, prodding. “Didn’t that have anything to do with you?”

The tea room is filled with couples drinking tea, girlfriends chatting and laughing. Joy. Happiness. Not this dread and anxiety that weighs down my bones and makes me jittery at the same time.

What if Rose is the reason he’s been avoiding me? What if Naoya is the reason Rose took off her ring? Are they getting back together?

Ididcatch them in the middle of what looked like a pretty intimate embrace, so is it really such a long shot to assume that they’re back together?

“Why don’t you ask Rose?” I suggest.

We sit down and pick up our menus. I stare blankly at the pretty calligraphic font, unable to read any of it. I’ll probably end up ordering a random item that I hate.

“Say something,” Naoya says, making me almost knock over my menu, which I’ve been holding up as a shield.

“No, thanks.” Then I realize I’ve given into his response. Grouchy and irritable and anxious as I am, I’m not doing my best at comebacks right now.

“You just did.” He smiles, but it doesn’t quite touch his eyes. “What’s got you in a mood, Red?”

“Nothing,” I snap, gripping my menu so tightly that I think I might snap it in half.

“You’ve been avoiding me—“

“No,you’vebeen avoidingmein favour of spending time with your precious ex-girlfriend, Rose.”Thisis why I never should’ve accepted his stupid stylist offer. We could’ve stayed as we were: friends who text each other. Friends who occasionally run into each other at random social functions. Texting was safe. The occasional run-in was safe.

Seeing him every day is notsafe.It’s wreaking havoc on my ability to think clearly and behave rationally.

If I were smart, I would’ve quit working as his stylist and moved on and taken Rose’s side in whatever weird dynamic they have. I could be working as a fashion assistant or helping Colette with her fashion line right now. Instead, I’m here.

In this weird no-man’s land where I have no right to be jealous or confused if Naoya avoids me so he cantalkto andhuganddrapehimself over Rose McCartney. But I still feel betrayed somehow.

“Poppy,” he says, somehow squeezing half a dozen emotions into my name. Hurt, surprise, annoyance, guilt, affection.

I ignore him, flipping over to the section on my menu that talks about floral teas. Why do people put rose petals in tea? Why are they called rosehips? Do roses have hips? I mean,onerose does, but she’s an actual person.

“Red,” he says. “C’mon. I’m barely even friends with Rose.”

“I don’t believe that.” I don’t hug people I’mbarely friendswith. “And it’s none of my business who you’re friends with, Naoya.”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

I set down my menu, letting it drop to the tablecloth. “Because you and I have a working relationship. I’m your stylist. Yourstylistwho will eventually leave after Rebecca comes back from maternity leave in a few months.”

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