Page 79 of The Wedding Pact
Flynn
As Flynn ran a short-cut back towards Elizabeth Street, August’s words turned and churned inside his head. They mangled together, mixing with annoyance, sadness, guilt at how he’d spoken to her, and worry, in case she was actually right.
Why was August doing this? He’d so wanted her and Poppy to get on, for some reason it had seemed important to him, but now she seemed to be trying to pick fault.
Wasthere something about Poppy and the way they met, the keenness she’d shown in visiting his home and the interest in his relationship status. ‘You’re not married?’ she’d asked at the bar that first night. But that was a normal question, a good question, really, for anyone flirting to check up on. Flynn found himself trying remember if she’d asked that question with curiosity, or with surprise, and then he cursed August under his breath for making him assess Poppy’s intentions, and flooding black ink into his memories of the start of their relationship.
August was his flatmate, nothing else, the rest was just make-believe. Poppy was somebody who he could maybe, one day, love in the same way he’d loved Yui, and he couldn’t wait for that day to come.
But try as he might to make this all about August, ultimately, he needed to speak with Poppy. He took a brisk shower, and left the flat quickly, not ready to run into his fake wife again just yet.
Flynn saw the back of Poppy’s head as he approached the park bench, her distinctive red hair immaculate with just light tendrils dancing in the cold breeze. He watched her for a short moment, trying to get a sense of exactly how he felt about her now he could see her.
On the one hand, he’d thought he was really beginning to like her. She was fun, clever, confident. She’d helped him know there was possibility to be happy again after how things had ended with Yui.
On the other hand, didn’t the fact he onlythoughthe wasbeginningto like her after nearly two months tell him something pretty clear? He enjoyed spending time with Poppy, and she seemed to enjoy him, but even though he’d put down the slow burn as him not wanting to rush into a new relationship, neither of them seemed to really be making much effort to stoke the fire and get it roaring. Was it possible that the ‘like’ was exactly where it was always going to end?
‘Hi, Poppy,’ Flynn said, coming around the side of the bench.
‘Flynn,’ Poppy said, getting up and tightening her coat around her. ‘It’s so frickin’ cold today, why the hell did you want to meet outside?’
She went in for a kiss but he stopped her. ‘Do you want to get a coffee?’
‘I want you to buy me a coffee,’ she grumbled, side-eyeing him, and the two of them walked to the nearest cafe, the one August was always talking about that had good breakfasts. He told Poppy this, and watched her reaction after he said August’s name.
But Poppy remained stoic, not so much of a hint of a curled lip or a rolled eye. Surely that wasn’t the natural reaction if you disliked someone to the extent August had made out? What was it she’d said? That Poppy had always been an icy bitch around her? But then, Poppy wasn’t exactly beaming and asking after August’s wellbeing today either.
Flynn pressed on. ‘I went for a run with August this morning. We got into a bit of an argument.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ Poppy said, with the warmth of a robot. ‘Lovers’ tiff?’
‘Why would you say that?’
‘Because it’s a joke?’ Poppy took her coffee and went to sit at one of the large wooden tables upstairs, in the corner, the furthest away from other customers. Before Flynn had even sat down, she asked, ‘What do you want to talk about, Flynn?’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean that last night for maybe the first time since we started this,’ Poppy waved her finger between the two of them. ‘Whateverthisis, you were affectionate and touchy-feely, and I felt like you were looking at me, really looking at me,for the first time. Do you know what I thought?’
‘What?’ he asked. This wasn’t how he’d been expecting this conversation to go.
‘I thought, “Oh great, he’s finally got the permission he’s been craving from hisflatmate, and now he’s allowing himself to have a little fun.” ’
Flynn’s blood ran a little colder at the way she used air quotes around the word ‘flatmate’. Was August right? He had a feeling he was about to find out. ‘She is just my flatmate, you know.’
‘Maybe she was, once upon a time.’ Poppy regarded him, her blue eyes hard, the curve of her mouth flattened out. She was right; last night, tipsy with a bit of liquor, happy because the evening had gone well, and, yes, because August had seemed to approve, he’d allowed himself to try and get closer to Poppy, to try and stoke that fire. That wasn’t so strange, surely. At the end of the day, August was his closest friend here and he’d wanted her to like Poppy. It had made a difference to him.
Eventually, Poppy shook her head. ‘And now you’re all distant again, brooding even, and we’re back to square one. So clearly she told you.’
He held her gaze, one hand clamped around his coffee. He was going to play dumb, ask what she meant, but they both knew and therefore it was game over.
‘That’s a yes, then,’ Poppy sighed. ‘I knew she realised who I was last night. If you want me to apologise, I’m not going to.’
‘Did you know who I was when you came up to me in the pub?’
‘Yes, I recognised you from the open house, of course.’
‘I don’t really remember you.’
