Page 56 of Running from Drac
Poppy leans back in her seat, arms folded, looking more tired than angry now. “I’m not getting in the middle of this already imploding circus of a relationship. If you can’t see how wrong he is for you, that’s your problem.”
“What the hell has Eddie done to you?”
“Nothing. And thank God for that. But I see what he’s doing toyou. He’s a liar and a cheater, Amber. You should wash your hands of him before it’s too late.”
“I love him, Poppy. You’re supposed to be my maid of honor, not my executioner. Besides, I’m just as guilty of cheating as he is.”
She laughs, mocking me just a tad with her eye roll. “I hate how you try to justify his infidelity by comparing it to your own. You fucked another guy. So what? You did it because even your subconscious knows how wrong Eddie is for you.”
“Eddie’s not wrong for me, Poppy. I’ve never felt this way about anybody before.”
“It’s because you don’t give yourself a chance to move on. Besides the Australian hottie, he’s the only guy you’ve ever been with, and you’ve told yourself that this is the kind of relationship you deserve. It’s not, Amber. You’re above this. Above him.”
Eddie and Wesley make their way back over to the booth before I have a chance to defend my relationship more. Maybe having the Kiplinger sisters in my wedding isn’t such a great idea after all?
Wesley and Eddie return to the booth, Eddie settling beside me while Wesley proudly places a drink in front of Poppy like he’s just presented her with a trophy.
“Here you go, beautiful,” he beams.
Poppy eyes the drink, then him. “Thanks,” she mutters. “How much do I owe you?”
Wesley laughs like she’s just told a joke. “Come on now, what kind of guy do you take me for? Your drinks are always on me.”
Poppy smirks, picking up the glass. “That can be arranged.” Her grip tightens on the cup like she’s mentally debating whether to throw it in his face or sip it.
Wesley doesn’t even flinch. “If you want to see me with my shirt off, all you have to do is ask, Poppy.” He unbuttons the two top buttons of his shirt, showing off his sculpted chest.
She audibly gulps, then cocks her head, almost like she’s trying to pull herself together. “You’re delusional.”
He leans in just enough to make her uncomfortable. “Maybe. But I’m also very determined. I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention.”
“I was checking to see if your ankle monitor was still on.”
“Touché,” he says, grinning. “Still, I like a woman who keeps tabs on me. Feels like foreplay.”
She groans. “You aresogross.”
“And yet, here you are sitting next to me, accepting my drink, and engaging in heated conversation.”
“Actually, if I remember correctly, you tied up my date like some roid-rage psycho and forced your presence on me. That’s called stalking, Wesley. But a guy like you probably already knew that.”
Wesley shrugs, still smiling. “Call it what you want. All I’m saying is that if throwing a drink in my face is what gets us our first physical contact, I’m all for it.”
She leans closer, a slow, dangerous smile spreading across her face. “Careful, Wesley. I’ve got excellent aim and no hesitation. You wouldn’t be my first.”
“That’s okay,” he shoots back. “I’d be honored to be your last.”
Poppy blinks like she can’t believe the audacity. “You’re not charming, you know that, right? You're a walking red flag with a soft jawline and the survival instincts of a moth.”
“Still here though. Flying straight toward the flame.”
“Good. I’ve got bug spray in my purse.”
Eddie lets out a low whistle, clearly trying not to laugh, while I hide my smile behind my drink.
Poppy takes a long sip, her face twitching in frustration. Wesley just sits there relaxed, as if every one of her insults is a love letter written in sarcasm.
“I don’t get it,” she mutters under her breath, more to herself than anyone. “How do you keep bouncing back? I’m verbally curb-stomping you and you act like I’m reading you bedtime poetry.”
