Page 74 of The Wedding Pact
August
August watched Flynn go to the door and took off her apron, checking her appearance in the mirror. She was comforted by his last comment, and she had the feeling he was a bit, too.
Poppy entered the flat in front of Flynn, casting her eyes briefly around the living room before they came to settle on August.
‘Hi, Poppy,’ August said, greeting her warmly.
‘Hello, August,’ Poppy replied, a little less warmly. Was that just her way, was she shy and a little guarded? Or was she cautious about the fact that her boyfriend lived with a female flatmate? August could understand that. She’d have to put Poppy at ease. Show her there was nothing else going on.
Even if August had felt there might be, for just a moment, when she got caught up in that kiss. She realised she had to be mindful not to entangle herself in Flynn and Poppy’s relationship when she was already dealing with the complexities of starting to like a man who thought she was married. She paused for a moment, thinking of Abe. How often she was flip-flopping at the moment. One minute she was telling herself she had to walk away, stop picturing herself starting up anything with him, as it was too complicated. But the next she was imagining scenarios where she told him the truth, and he was happy, and not at all mad about being lied to, andtheywere happy. Just like Flynn and Poppy.
‘Can I get you a drink?’ August asked, heading towards the kitchen, tipping a picture frame onto its front en route, a frame that housed one of the ‘wedding day’ photos of herself and Flynn embracing on the beach. She didn’t think Poppy had noticed the faux pas, or the cover-up.
‘Do you have wine?’ Poppy asked.
‘Always,’ August replied. ‘Red? White? I don’t think we have any rosé at the moment … ’
‘Red, please.’
‘Flynn? Want some wine?’
‘Yep, cheers August!’
As August poured the wine, she watched Flynn and Poppy from the corner of her eye. He took her coat, smiling at her, relaxed, but not completely. She wrapped an arm around his waist. She was dressed in a stylish black jump-suit and heels, her red hair loose and red lipstick on her mouth. She looked very cool and for a second August, in her lemon-coloured jeans and electric-blue sweatshirt, felt like a children’s TV presenter compared to her. Not that it mattered what she looked like compared to Poppy.
Taking the two wines back into the other room, and fetching herself a Budweiser (she liked beer with fajitas), August joined them.
The evening went well. Well, it wentfine. August couldn’t help but feel that Poppy was being a little short with her. She was about to offer a cup of tea to the two of them, along with a comment about how they’d be doing her a favour because her eyebags would need all the cold tea bags they could get in the morning, when Flynn said, ‘August, I think Poppy and I are going to pop out for a drink.’
‘Great! I’m going to give my mum a call and catch up with her,’ August answered. She wasn’t planning to do that at all, but she didn’t want them to feel they had to invite her. And actually, she wasn’t sure she wanted to be invited. If August was honest – not that she’d say this to Flynn – she was getting kind of exhausted by having to work so hard with Poppy.
‘Okay,’ said Flynn, and he leant over and gave her a peck on the cheek, something that surprised the both of them a little, and Flynn stepped back quickly.
August saw Poppy give the tiniest shake of her head. Oh shit. She was going to be mad at Flynn now. And like the feeling you get playing Jenga, when the tower wobbles and you know it’s close to crashing down, August knew the path had been laid for her to become a source of contention in Flynn’s relationship. Poppy would never be happy with them being so close, with them living together so closely.
‘Bye, Poppy,’ August said, slapping on a smile and glossing over what had just occurred. ‘Great to meet you properly.’
‘And you,’ Poppy replied. ‘What a lovely home you both have.’
Was there a hint of something in that, something bitter or sarcastic, or did August imagine it?
August held the door open for them and Poppy exited first. As Flynn walked out, August whispered to him, oh so quietly, ‘Careful when you leave the building.’
Flynn met her eye and gave a small nod. She was confident he knew what she meant: don’t be romantic with Poppy until you’re down the hill. On the way in, she knew he’d walked up the stairs twirling his keys. On the way out, she knew he would check on his phone for bars or pubs not too far away, walking distance-wise. It was how they’d agreed he would keep his hands occupied and avoid holding onto Poppy’s.
Out on the landing, Flynn waved a goodbye to August, and Poppy too turned her head.
She caught August’s eye and gave her a tight smile.
And like a flash, August remembered where she’d seen Poppy before.
Chapter 53
August
It was seeing her there, on the landing. Something about the backdrop, the flip of Poppy’s red hair, the stern look in her eye. It had all come together, and August closed the door hastily, taking a moment to catch her breath.
Poppy had been here before, not when August was hiding in the wall cupboard butbeforebefore – she was at the open house. She was the woman who’d stormed past her and Flynn on their way in, the one who’d also known Mrs Haverley’s intentions of only renting to a married couple, and she’d been pissed off.
