Ryan
Three Weeks Later
He drove home from work. In many ways, these last few weeks had been amazing. Every time he left work, he was in a good mood because he knew he was coming home to her and Emmy. Poppy being there made the house so much better. He’d been a much better boss too. He was a happier guy at work, and people had even started greeting him when he arrived.
But instead of going straight home, he made a quick stop at the locksmith. He’d been thinking about this for a while now and he’d decided to do it. And tonight would be the night. They’d already been sleeping in the same bed for weeks now—the guest room arrangement had somehow fallen away after that night in the greenhouse.
The locksmith passed him the keys. A key to his house and a remote for the gate. Until now, she’d been using the spare keys. But tonight he wanted to give her a set of her own and ask her, officially, if she wanted to move in with them. He knew it was fast—some would say impulsive and crazy—but now that she’d been there, in his home, eating dinner with them, watching TV on the couch together, feeling like part of the family, he never wanted her to leave again.
He looked at the keys in his hand and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a small box and slipped them inside.
He was even more excited to go home tonight.
CHAPTEREIGHTY-EIGHT
Poppy
“Oh my God, I’ve got great news!” I ran into the lounge and skidded across the tiles. Ryan was relaxing on the couch and turned around.
“Hey, I’ve been waiting for you.” He smiled at me.
“Sorry I’m late, but something super exciting came up.”
“What?” he asked, looking up at me with those blue eyes that I’d come to really like over the last few weeks.That I’d come to love.
“So,” I flopped down on the couch next to him, “I spoke to my agent today—well, I didn’t even know she was my agent anymore really, since she’d been avoiding my calls—and guess what?”
“Wait, didn’t you get that other agent, the one who got you that shampoo commercial?”
“Well, I haven’t signed anything official with him yet,” I said.
He nodded, and I continued. “So anyway, she called me out of the blue to tell me that they want to bring Ramona González back. And more than that, they want to make me a main character. They’re even changing the name of the show toVenganza Ramona. They want to sign me for the rest of the show, another twenty episodes.”
“Really?” He pulled me into his arms. “That’s amazing. I knew it would happen.” He hoisted me onto his lap and cradled my face between his hands. “You’re brilliant.”
“I’m so excited. But I’ve got so much to plan. They want to start shooting next week, and they’ve actually moved the shoot down to Joburg into a proper big studio, since they have more budget now and—”
“Wait, they’re shooting in Joburg?”
“I know! At this huge studio and, drum roll, I get my own dressing room. Like an actual room that I can dress in, just me. Not a room made with some hanging sheets that are pegged to a washing line that we all have to share.” I climbed off his lap and flopped onto my back across the couch. “My own dressing room. I wonder if they’ll put my name on the door? Maybe in some cheesy glittery star.Rrramonaaa!” I said, waving my hand in the air.
“In Joburg?” he said.
But I didn’t really hear him. I was too busy imagining my name on the side of a trailer. “And, guess what . . . there is budget for hair and make-up now too, so I don’t have to do that myself, and they’re dropping Ramona’s wig and glasses—something about my vision and hair improving during the mutation. Oh my God, Tamlin was right about how they’re bringing me back!” I reached for my bag and pulled out the script and started reading. “Ramona González, back from the dead after gaining superpowers in a radioactive explosion, returns to take over the family business and avenge her murder.” I laughed. “You hear that? Apparently, I have superpowers. I don’t know what they are yet, but I hope it’s something fun like invisibility, or telekinesis, or—”
“In Joburg,” he said again.
This time I stopped talking. “Yes, I know, I don’t love it there either, but it does have the best TV studios in the country. Cape Town is more film, you know. But Joburg—”
“Is in Joburg,” he cut me off again. “As in Johannesburg, as in a city that is over thirteen hundred kilometers away?”
“Uh . . .” I looked at him and suddenly a cold, hard rock fell into the bottom of my stomach. “Yes,” I said tentatively.
“I mean, I don’t want to be the spoiler of dreams here, but what about us?” he asked.
I shook my head. “What do you mean, what about us?” I asked. And then it hit me. All at once. I’d been so excited about the news that I hadn’t even thought about him and Emmy, in this house . . . in Cape Town.
“It’s not forever,” I said quickly.
