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Knock, knock, knock.
Nothing.
Knock, knock, knock.
Her car is parked in the driveway. Maybe she’s out with someone? I feel like a chump, standing on her doorstep holding flowers and a large container of freshly squeezed lemonade. I start to turn toward the car when the door opens. My face lights up, knowing it’s her—until I see her face.
“Poppy, what’s wrong?” Her face is swollen, her eyes red. “Is your mother okay?”
“Yes. She’s fine.” She doesn’t elaborate. Doesn’t invite me in.
“You haven’t been taking my calls. I got worried.”
“Don’t be. I’ll be okay.”
This hurts. It feels as if she’s plunging a sharp object into my chest. I wouldn’t have noticed if someone had done that six months ago. Yet, now, I’m hooked on this woman. And she’s shutting me out. “Baby, talk to me.”
“No.”
Shit. Is it already too late? Jarod was right. I blew this. After everything, I blew my one chance.
“Please. I’m sorry I haven’t been here for you.”
“It’s okay, Broadie. I never asked you to be. I knew where we stood.”
Perhaps she should fill me in. Because I thought things were okay.
“Poppy, I—”
“Look. I never asked for more than you were ready to give me. I respected where you were. I’m not upset about it. It was new for us.”
“Was?”
Poppy’s lips come together in a thin line. “I only meant, I’m in a bad place right now. I need time to sort it out. Alone.”
I’m not sure what to say. I don’t like this. It’s bad enough when things at work force me to feel as if I have no control. But somehow, this is worse.
“Can I just come in and hold you for a minute?”
Her face starts to turn red. She’s pissed. “Why is it when you don’t have time to see me, busy with work or your friends at the club, that’s okay? But if I want space, the same courtesy isn’t offered?”
The sweet, poised woman I’ve come to know now resembles a cauldron about to blow. But she’s right. I’m a selfish bastard. The very reason I’d avoided dating was so I didn’t treat someone as I’m treating her now. Like her needs are less important than my own.
“You’re right. Here.” I hold out the flowers and lemonade. If I have to take them back with me, it’ll make leaving that much harder. And I really do want her to have them. They weren’t bribes. “I’m sorry, Poppy. I’ll go.”
As she takes the gifts from me, I can see a slight shift in her mood. Her expression isn’t quite so stabby. I should feel relieved, but I don’t. And not because of anything she’s said or done. This is on me.
If I’d tried harder, she’d likely let me in. Not into her home but into her heart. Because I can see how badly she’s hurting. This sensation is new. This hollow ache in my chest isn’t because she won’t allow me to fix her. I acknowledge that’s my nature, both in and out of the operating room. But this is different. I had the chance to show her I could be the person who put her above all else. That I could be her safe place to fall.
And I blew it.
CHAPTERTWENTY-NINE
POPPY
“Poppy, it’s good to see you.”
“Thank you, Dr. Miller. I appreciate you fitting me in.”
