Page 51 of Unforgettable

Because it’s my sister and I don’t have to sugar coat a single thing with her, I brag about Oz the whole way to the bed and breakfast. I tell her how we met and how gorgeous he is and how I could see it being something more, but how I’ve told myself it can’t be.

She doesn’t give me the “be careful” speech Murph gave me, and she doesn’t make me feel like it’s all too much and too fast. Instead, Callie, my reckless and impulsive sister turned full-time, responsible mother, kisses me on the cheek and says, “Let yourself have fun, Reeve. You deserve it. In fact, see if he can join us for dinner tonight.”

“What?” I laugh half-heartedly. “No. It’s our time together.”

“Just do it,” she insists. “I want to meet him. I want to meet people from your life here. Don’t overthink this. I also want to meet Murph.”

It doesn’t take much for Callie to twist my arm, and without much further hesitation, I send both Murph and Oz a message to join us for dinner tonight. It’s not often the three of us have the same night off work, and while I would love nothing more than to start the weekend with all my favorite people in the same room, I do my best to not let my hopes get too high.

Instead of obsessing over a reply from both Oz and Murph, I put my phone away and spend the afternoon creating new nicknames with Poppy while Callie takes a nap.

“So, explain to me one more time why I can’t call you Poopy Poppy,” I say, purposefully riling her up. We’re sitting in the living room of the bed and breakfast, each of us with a yellow legal pad and some pencils and markers.

“If someone hears you, they will repeat it, and I don’t want kids at school to call me poo,” she explains.

“But do you even know how you got that nickname?”

She rolls her eyes, clearly unimpressed. “The first time you held me, I pooped all over my clothes and you.”

“Exactly. It means something. No other name will mean anything.”

She places the pencil against her lips in concentration before her face splits into a huge grin. “I got it, I got it.”

Picking up the paper, she hands it to me, along with a marker. “I can’t spell it. You have to.”

I chuckle. “Okay. What am I spelling?”

“Pretty Poppy,” she says with pride and enthusiasm. “And write down Princess Poppy.”

I do as she says in huge block letters across the page so she can see them and maybe copy later.

“Can I add the ones I’ve come up with?” I ask.

She hesitates, because clearly the man that came up with Poopy Poppy can’t be trusted. “As long as there’s no poop.”

“How about Precious Poppy,” I suggest.

She throws her hands up in the air. “Yes. That one.”

“But you haven’t heard the rest.”

“I don’t need to, Uncle Reeve. You can call me any of those three. Especially in front of my new friends at school.”

After adding the most recent nickname to the paper, I raise my hand up in the air and Poppy gives me a high five. “Great teamwork, Precious.”

My cell begins to ring, and Oz’s name flashes on the screen. “How about you sit and practice tracing the words for me?” I tell Poppy. “I’ll be back in a second.”

Nervous, I swipe at the screen. “Hello.”

“Hey.”

“Hey,” I repeat. “How are you?”

“Good. I got your message,” he exclaims. “But I thought you were spending the weekend with your sister.”

“I am,” I confirm. “But she wanted to meet my friends, so I thought I would invite you and Murph for dinner tonight.”

“Oh.” He doesn’t sound surprised, but he also doesn’t sound keen, so I backtrack.

---