Page 81 of Sunshine
“That makes sense,” I agree. “Poppy should stay here next weekend. Great idea.”
I ignore Finn’s subtle smirk and let myself be distracted by the idea of spending two days alone in this house with Poppy—one entire night with her in my bed—while around me, conversation turns to other things. Chord’s season. Violet’s new design studio and her first couture line. The restaurant expansion, the healthof the horses, and the barn house renovations. The state of crops across the farm. Even Finn’s few minutes on guitar playing back-up for Izzy tonight. The hours pass in a warm, hazy flow of conversation and cocoa as the clock ticks closer to midnight.
Eventually everyone is ready to leave, and as we make our way to the front door, I look over my shoulder at Izzy asleep in the living room. She’s going to love having Poppy here for two days, and fuck me for wanting to see her little face light up when I tell her. I shouldn’t be tying more strings between them and yet I will. I’ll do anything to make my daughter smile.
And it’s only two days. Two days to pretend the past and the future don’t matter, and we exist only in our own little bubble. One night with Poppy wrapped in my arms and my sheets. And suddenly, I don’t care how or why we’ve got this chance or what will happen when it’s over. I only know that no matter what comes next, the three of us will always have this weekend.
We’re standing in the crowded hallway with Chord and Violet, Luke, Finn, and Poppy collecting coats as we say our quiet goodbyes, and I don’t even realize I’m staring at Poppy until she lifts her chin and seeks me out like she senses my eyes on her. Our gazes snap together like two drops of water coalescing into one, and when she realizes I’m already absorbed by her, her mouth tips up in quiet acknowledgment. Too soon, she drops her eyes. The sparks that dance between us are too dangerous to be alive in the house just now.
Poppy is the last to walk out the door, and I watch her slip behind the wheel of her car with the sinking feeling that next weekend is going to be the best and the worst of my life. A taste of what could be if only I was fearless enough to ask her to stay.
twenty-four
Poppy
The day Charlie andDaisy leave for San Francisco starts like any other Saturday, and it isn’t until Izzy and I pull into the driveway following her ceramics class that the simmering anticipation of the last week bubbles into full-blown butterflies.
One weekend playing house with Dylan starts now.
I cut the engine and unbuckle my seatbelt, and when my phone pings with a text message from Daisy, I reluctantly pick it up.
Daisy
Remember the plan. Text me the minute Dylan tells you he’s going to The Hill to ‘work’ this weekend. I don’t care how late it is. I need to know who he’s seeing! Do you think it’s Molly—the girl from the bar?
In the back seat, Izzy heaves a sigh, and instead of squirming out of her booster seat like she normally would, she stares distractedly out her window.
“You okay, Little Bee?”
Izzy shrugs and plucks at her pale pink tutu. “I guess so.”
“Are you tired?”
Izzy shrugs again but yawns widely, confirming my suspicions.
“You know what? It’s been a big week, and I’m tired too,” I tell her. “What do you say we go inside for some quiet time?”
Izzy’s half-hearted agreement gives me an excuse to heart Daisy’s message, throw my phone back in my tote, and forget about her suspicions. And I do it with relief.
Daisy has spent the entire week obsessed with the idea that Dylan is secretly involved with someone. I’ve spent the entire week trying to avoid the subject. And I still haven’t told Dylan that his sister might be on to us. I act like mess and chaos are my happy places, but this time there’s too much at stake, and I’m scared about what might happen next.
Never in my life have I felt so high and so low at the same time. I’ve finally made the kind of mess I can’t run away from.
There are still a couple of hours to kill before Dylan comes home to make dinner, so Izzy and I change into the matching cotton candy-colored sweats I purchased especially for this weekend, curl up on the sofa with a couple of blankets, novelty tiaras, and soup bowls filled with cereal, and press play on our favorite movie.
We’re at the scene where Rapunzel realizes she’s the lost princess when Izzy’s head lolls against my side. She’s fallen asleep, so I remove the half-empty bowl from her grip, snuggle her under my arm, and sink deeper into the cushions. It’s so cozy that I close my eyes for a moment too…and suddenly Dylan is there, crouching beside the sofa and scooping Izzy up into his arms.
“Oh. Hi.” I shift up onto my elbows and squint around the dark room. “We must have—”
“It’s okay,” he whispers. “It’s past her bedtime anyway. I’m sorry I didn’t get here earlier. I know we talked about making dinner together tonight, but the restaurant was busy. I sent you a text. Did you get it?”
I rub my eyes and lean down to search my tote. “No. I’m sorry. I missed it.”
“That’s okay. Let me put Izzy to bed, and I’ll be right back.”
“I can do it.”
I start to stand, but Dylan stops me with a perfect smolder.
