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Well, shit. I didn’t want a showdown in the kitchen this morning, but here we are.
Poppy takes a huffy seat on a barstool at the island, and I pull Juliet to the side, dropping my voice.
“Are you all right if I tell her?” I scour her face for clues, any indication of what she wants me to do. Her cheeks and chest flush pink, and she gnaws at her bottom lip.
“I guess. It’s as much your information as mine.” Her eyes flick up, and something passes between us. A moment of shared loss, solidarity.
“Still. I want to make sure it’s okay with you.”
She nods, folding her arms tight across her chest. “It’s fine.”
I squeeze her arm, try to offer at least some comfort before dealing with my sister.
“I’ll give you two a minute.” Juliet tips her chin at Poppy, stewing at the island, her fingers thrumming a mile a minute on the granite. “I’m going to get dressed.”
“You’re welcome to stay.”
“That’s okay. Talk to your sister.”
She dashes away, grabbing her suitcase as she heads upstairs, leaving me and Poppy alone in the kitchen.
“Juliet didn’t want to stay for your little speech?” Poppy’s voice leaks sarcasm, and I glower at her.
“Cut the crap, Poppy.” I take a seat next to her, our elbows brushing.
“So what’s the deal, King? What’s really going on with Juliet? She’s pregnant, isn’t she? And that’s why you’re with her?” Her tone’s accusatory, like I’ve been withholding top-secret information from her and she doesn’t appreciate it one little bit.
“Stop. Just stop.” I try to tamp down the irritation bubbling up in my gut. Poppy’s always known how to push my buttons—everyone’s buttons, really—and this time’s no exception.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. So be quiet before you make things worse.” I cut my eyes at her, slightly satisfied to see her lips pressed shut.
Thank god for small favors.
“She was pregnant. A long time ago. But we lost the baby.”
For once, Poppy’s quiet, a yawning silence filling the kitchen. A part of me, deep down, still aches when I think about the baby. Saying the words out loud is even worse. I sit with the dull, aching pain, let it settle over me like a familiar blanket.
Finally, Poppy speaks.
“I’m sorry, King.” Her hand finds mine on the counter.
I don’t say anything, my throat tight and dry. I don’t like being in this space, thinking about the past, what could have been.
We sit quietly for another long minute before Poppy breaks in.
“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. But when did this happen? How long ago?”
“I told you, it was a long time ago. Before Juliet moved away.”
“Shit, like fifteen years ago? You guys were kids!”
“Yeah. We were going to make it work, though. But when she lost the baby, I took it as a sign. She deserves more than this town. More than me.”
I hang my head, staring at the pattern in the island, painful memories swirling. All the negative feelings flooding back through me, weighing me down. The sadness, anger, inadequacy, the inability to help her. I did the best I could, but it still wasn’t enough. To save the baby or her.
“King.” Poppy turns to face me, her hand warm on my shoulder. “That’s ridiculous. She deserves more than her brothers, that’s for sure. But any girl would be lucky to have you. You’re strong, loyal, kind. You put your family first, above all else. What woman wouldn’t want those things?”
Heat rushes to my face, cheeks burning. It’s weird hearing my sister say all these things about me. Mostly she runs around busting my chops, just like everyone else.
