“Yup,” she said, while concentrating hard on straightening one of the bent stems.
“Ramona González?”
“Yup,” she said again. She didn’t look up at him, instead focusing all her attention on the plant in her hand.
“Executive Administrative Assistant to . . .what was it exactly?”
She slammed the plant down on the ground and glared at him. “To the CEO of an experimental, secretive government laboratory testing facility. OKAY! Alright!?! Happy now?”
Her anger caught him off guard. He was just about to open his mouth and speak, when she opened hers and the words started falling out.
“I know I lied. I’m a total liar.” She hung her head. “God, my mom would be so disappointed in me. But I was desperate and broke and felt like a total loser with a jar of peanut butter in the fridge of the crummiest apartment on the African continent with neighbors plucked straight out of the Jerry Springer show. And I had this pile, an actual pile, of bills that I’d been ignoring because I just didn’t have the money to pay them because I no longer had a job because I was killed.” She shook her head and seemed more angry with herself than he was with her right now. He was going to stop her, but it looked like she needed to get this off her chest.
“They decided to kill my character—talk about a confidence booster! I’m not even good enough to be alive on a stupid telenovela with a plotline straight out of an episode ofStar Trek. And then one day I was walking down the road, feeling like I wanted to disappear, or not exist, because I didn’t know what to do and where to turn, and my agent wasn’t taking my calls anymore, and this newspaper came out of nowhere and flew into my face and stuck to it, and when I pulled it away and looked, there it was. A job. Executive Administrative Assistant to the CEO of some company I hadn’t heard of . . .” She paused for the tiniest moment and then looked up at him. “That’s you, by the way, the CEO . . . and I just thought, I have to. I took it as a sign, even though I had no idea what the hell I was going to do when I got there. I didn’t think that far, and the only way I felt vaguely okay with lying was if I wore that stupid disguise because, believe it or not, I’m actually not a natural liar. And if my mother was alive, she would be appalled that I lied because she taught me better than that. So I wore the stupid disguise and I lied to get the job and now the telenovela that I never wanted anyone to see is apparently huge in Nigeria and half of Africa has seen it and, and, and . . .” She took a massive breath like she was running out of steam, then finally stopped talking and sat there looking at him.
She looked so vulnerable and beautiful and in so much pain. His heart broke.
“You wanted to disappear?” he asked. Hearing her say that had cut him to the quick.
She shrugged. “Sort of. I don’t know. I just didn’t want to live the way I was anymore. I didn’t want things to stay the same, and it felt like I had no way out.” She shook her head. “FUCK IT!” She picked up a plant and examined it. “And now this plant is going to die . . . look at it.”
There was something so sad about Poppy. Something slightly broken about her—but totally beautiful. And he wanted to fix it. He reached out and took the plant from her. “I’m sure with some water and sun, it will be fine.” He tried to straighten the stem and leaves.
“Why are you being so nice to me after I lied to you?” Her big amber eyes met his. “You should be furious with me. You should be angry that you employed someone who lied on their CV. You should want me to leave immediately and get rid of me.”
He looked at her. Truthfully, he couldn’t be angry with her if he tried. He shuffled across the grass, right up to her. Her eyes widened as he put his face in front of hers and grazed her cold nose with his. He closed his eyes and breathed in her smell.
“Because,” he opened his eyes and looked into hers, “no one makes me feel like this. No one makes me laugh the way you do—and trust me, I haven’t laughed in a long time, and it feels so good. I feel awake when I’m with you, Poppy. You woke me up when I didn’t even know I was sleeping.”
“Really?” she asked.
“Remember when I asked you what you were worth and you couldn’t tell me?” he said.
She nodded. Sweet, sad and vulnerable.
“Well, what you’ve done for me, that makes you invaluable.”
CHAPTERSEVENTY-FIVE
Poppy
Invaluable!
The word repeated, over and over, in my head as I looked at him looking at me. The word seemed so foreign to me. I knew what it meant, but there was something about its meaning that seemed so far away, so removed from me.
“Invaluable?” I asked.
He nodded. “Invaluable . . .” He repeated the word, and yet it still didn’t sound right. It just wasn’t a word I would use to describe myself.
“I’m . . . not . . . I . . .” My words tapered off and I shook my head. “I mean . . .” I shrugged. “How can I be . . .?” I pursed my lips together hard, trying to bite back the emotion that was welling up inside me, catching in the back of my throat.
“Why would you think that?” he asked. He held my gaze with such intensity that I thought I might capitulate under it.
“God.” I shook my head. “Do you know how intimidating you can be sometimes?”
He smiled. “It’s all an act.”
“Really? It’s a damn good one then. You’re a better actor than I am.” I forced a tiny smile. His thumb came up and touched my lip, which was cold and quivered under the warmth of his finger. I chewed on the corner of my lip, a mixture of nerves and excitement rushing through me.
