forced himself not to rise to the bait. Poppy had always known how to press his buttons – had been amused by how he toed the line compared to her freedom-loving ways. She, more than anyone, knew he wouldn’t have time for the frivolity of kittens and cats skittering through a store, let alone time for cleaning up after them and maintaining their health.
‘What? You’re not going to tell me I’m being ridiculous?’ Poppy laughed, the sound brightening the room, as it had always done. ‘I was expecting you to give me that look of derision that I bet had people quailing in court.’
‘I wasn’t in court, Poppy. You know I worked in property law.’ Ben sat back down and took a long drink of his wine.
‘Well, you could have been. You could have changed directions, for all I knew. It’s not like you’ve bothered replying to the emails I’ve sent in the past year or so. Not with any news of substance. “I’m fine” does not an email make.’ Poppy crossed her arms and tucked her hands in her armpits.
Guilt swarmed in Ben’s gut. That was Poppy’s signature move when she was hurt, sad, upset or wanting to shut someone out. And he’d been the cause of it. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t reply all that much, or all that well. Life got busy. You know how things are. Or maybe you don’t… I don’t know.’
‘Of course you don’t know. You didn’t ask. Even when we were emailing on a sort-of regular basis you never asked questions about my life.’ Poppy sunk her top teeth into her bottom lip, then released them. ‘You probably thought my life was one great adventure. Swanning from country to country. Chasing summer. Sunbathing. Swimming. Being frivolous and free while you spent hours poring over papers and whatnot. The thing is, I worked, Ben. The whole time. Yes, I saw sights. Yes, I had a good time. But I also worked my arse off. It wasn’t one long holiday.’ Poppy’s jaw jutted out, just as it always did when she was holding back – trying to keep her emotions in check, trying to be brave. ‘Just because I choose to smile instead of scowl, choose to laugh instead of lift my lip and sneer at the world, it doesn’t mean I don’t have a serious bone in my body. It doesn’t mean that I don’t care.’ Poppy untucked her arms, lifted her chin, and took a deep breath in. ‘Whatever. It doesn’t matter. I’m being an idiot. So, back to business…’ She picked up her pen, lowered her gaze to the page so he couldn’t see how she was feeling, and scrawled two short sentences.
‘No combining space. No combining anything.’
Poppy set the pen down on the paper with a slap. And just like that, Ben was a boy again, and the urge to make Poppy feel better was there. The need to reach out and run his hand down her braided rope of ebony hair. To hold her close. To tell her she was wonderful. She was enough. That despite whatever complicated things were happening in her life, in her head, that they could deal with it together. If she just let him in.
Except she wouldn’t. He was an idiot to think her time away travelling would have changed that. Changed her.
‘I know you didn’t just sunbathe your way round the world. Sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.’
Poppy waved his apology away. ‘I’m fine. Really.’ She looked up, a smile fixed on her face. One that didn’t chase away the shadows in her eyes. ‘If anything, I’m kicking myself. I should have expected this to happen. You’ve always been so paint by numbers. Knowing what you wanted, why you wanted it, and how you were going to get there. You’re the most organised person I know. Heck, I bet even your underwear drawer is colour-coded. Light to dark, from left to right. Or is it alphabetised by brand? Or arranged by occasion? Your day-to-day underwear would be at the top, followed by church underwear, because you’d be too respectful to wear anything threadbare or holey to church.’
‘I haven’t been to church since I moved out of home. I just went because it made Mum happy.’
‘But I bet you still go to St James’ every Christmas and Easter.’ Poppy raised an eyebrow, daring him to deny it.
‘I do. With Mum.’ Ben nodded, not seeing any point in lying. ‘But I don’t have special church underwear.’
‘But I bet you’ve got dating underwear. The good stuff. Fits perfectly. Manly colours. Navy blue. Black. No tacky patterns. Although I did see some unicorn boxers that I could order for you if you wanted to shake things up…’
Ben waved Poppy’s suggestion away. ‘Not in a million years will I wear unicorn boxers. Or unicorn anything. And frankly, Poppy, I’m starting to think you’re far too interested in the contents of my underwear.’ Ben bit down on his tongue. What had he just said? He surely didn’t say ‘contents of my underwear’.
He glanced at Poppy who was doubled over, elbows on knees, her shoulders shaking as airy gasps filled the space between them.
‘I mean… not my underwear… my contents… er, I mean my drawers. I know you wouldn’t be interested in the contents of my…’ Shut up, Ben. God, what was going on with him? Usually he was calm, collected, in control of what came out of his mouth. But being in the same room as Poppy meant the words flew off his tongue as quickly as they came into his head. It was the Poppy-effect in full flight. Her presence had always left him a little unsteady. Off kilter. Hell, he never put a foot wrong when he was left to his own devices, but whenever she entered his sphere, since the day they met, he’d found himself in all sorts of harmless trouble. Nipping over to his neighbour’s house to relieve their tree of apples. Getting tipsy on cider Poppy had stolen from her mother’s fridge when they were fifteen. He’d been so ill the next day his parents had taken pity on him and decided the hangover was punishment enough. Life with Poppy was more interesting, but it also meant there was a huge chance things could go askew.
She could promise things were going to go smoothly all she wanted, but he only had the past to go by, and that made him nervous.
‘Oh God, you’re hilarious. You and your rules.’ Poppy straightened up and smoothed back the tendrils of hair that that had come loose from her braid to frame her face. ‘You were always one for them, but gosh, look at you now. So serious. So earnest. So much more… rule-y. What happened, Ben? You used to know how to have a bit of fun, but now…’ Poppy’s gaze started at his perfectly shone shoes, before she worked her way up to his suit pants, his suit jacket, lingered on the tie, then finished on his cut-just-that-day hair. ‘Now you’re all about looking perfect, and making everything perfect, and being perfect. What’s wrong with a little sparkle and shimmer and shine? What’s wrong with unicorns? They make people happy. They make people smile. Do you not want to be happy and smiley, Ben?’
Did he not want to be happy? Of course he did. But right now he had too much riding on the success of Steep. If he didn’t do well, if leaving his practice had been a mistake, he’d have to deal with the disapproval of his father for… well, probably ever. ‘Look, Poppy, I just want to make sure my business succeeds. And for that to happen “Steep” needs to be taken seriously, and unicorns don’t exactly project that mentality. It’s one thing to go halves in this space, but there needs to be separation. No sharing, no boundary crossing, you understand? “Sparkle” can shimmer and shine all it likes, but “Steep” needs to be as solid and dependable as a good cup of tea.’
Poppy rolled her eyes so hard Ben feared they were going to pop out of their sockets. ‘Fine. I understand. I’ll stick to your stupid rule, but I’ve got one rule you need to abide by.’
‘Really?’ Ben mashed his lips together to stop a smirk appearing. Poppy, the ultimate disregarder of rules, was going to set one? ‘What’s your rule?’
‘My rule is this – if you so much as look
