Page 175 of Pucking Sweet

“Everything happened,” I cry. “This awful week happened. Watching people around the world tear a woman apart for loving more than one man happened. I have spent the last seven days buried up to my neck in some of the worst vitriol I’ve ever experienced in my life. And I’m a PR manager. Imanagethe crises; I don’t take center stage in them!”

“Good to know you see loving us as a fucking crisis,” he snaps.

“You have no idea what it’s been like,” I go on. “Even now, I have a team of people actively blocking comments and requesting media takedowns of the most cruel and insensitive content. All because a woman is daring to do the same thing I’m doing and love more than one man. What happens when there are children involved? How will we protect them from the hate of this world?”

“Babe, there are no fucking kids,” Colton shouts. “We’re just three adults living a life.”

“But therewillbe kids. It’s what you want, right? It’s what I want too. Are you really ready to bring them into this kind of chaos? Are you ready for them to face censure and cruelty for being part of a polyamorous union?”

“Can I interject here?” Lukas’s gaze is steely as he glances between us. “Love how you’re both making declarations and planning out my whole goddamn future without me right now, but Ineveragreed to kids. I don’t want kids. So, if that’s happening…” He shrugs, making a show of taking a large step back.

The pieces of tape holding me together all start to break.

“Why don’t you want kids?” Colton asks for me, glaring at Lukas.

Lukas glances between us with an incredulous look on his face. “Are you fucking kidding me? You’ve met me, right? You know me, you know my life story. And you’re still asking me that?”

“Lukas you are not your life story,” I say as gently as I can.

“No, but my life story still plays a pretty big motivating factor in why I willneverhave a fucking kid,” he shouts. “You think I’m gonna risk messing up a kid as badly as I was messed up? You think I can be someone’s daddy? I’ve never had one, so what the fuck do I know about it? I just had a sad drunk of a grandpa who beat me with a belt for eating too many soda crackers when I was fucking hungry. No, I can be the fun uncle at best. I can teach them how to pull pranks, and shoot pucks, and put on a condom. Otherwise, I have no interest in being a goddamn parent.”

A long moment of silence stretches between us. The only sounds are the jazzy notes coming from the band inside.

“I have to go,” I whisper. Turning away, I take three steps before Colton is calling out.

“Poppy…stop.”

I stop.

“Turn around.”

Slowly, I turn.

Colton’s eyes are obsidian in this darkness, his jaw clenched tight. He points to the glass still clutched in my hand. “Drink that champagne.”

Heart in my throat, I pinch the slender stem with two fingers, making no move to bring the glass to my lips. Instead, I defiantly hold his gaze.

More unbearable silence.

“Poppy, drink the goddamn champagne.”

Next to him, Lukas finally catches on. His expression falls. That look of horror on his face is all I need to see. “Oh…fuck.”

“Poppy!” Colton shouts, taking a step forward.

Flinching, I step back and raise the glass a little. Then, holding it out to the side, I tip it over, pouring the bubbly drink onto the patio tiles. My glass empty, I turn and walk away.

They don’t follow me.

65

“What do you mean you’re fucking leaving?” Cole shouts, following me around his apartment as I collect my crap. “Lukas!”

We’re three days back from LA, and things are a goddamn mess. Poppy is pregnant and hiding out from us. Cole keeps trying to get me to open up about my past. I’m fucking sick of it. I can’t take another second. As if lying on his couch and crying into a tub of ice cream will fix the fucked-up-ness in my head that is sending me running for the hills.

I can’t do this. He’s right, I never fucking could. It’s all just feeling like too much for me. Too much pressure, too much commitment. I’m not the guy who stays. I’m not the boyfriend. You don’t bring me home to mom. You certainly don’t raise a fucking kid with me.

You flirt with me at the bar, fuck me in the bathroom, and let me pay for your Uber home.

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