The sun is setting. The sky bleeds orange and pink.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Poppy says.
“Do what?”
“Defend me. My work. You’re being paid to be my boyfriend, not my publicist.”
“I’m being paid to be convincing. A man who’s genuinely interested in you would defend what matters to you.” I glance at her. “Besides, your mother was wrong. What you’ve built is impressive.”
“You don’t have to pretend when it’s just us.”
“I’m not pretending.”
She stops walking. Turns to face me. The sunset catches in her hair, turning it copper and gold. “Julian—”
“Preston’s here.”
The words come out before I’ve decided to speak them. I caught his scent ten minutes ago—cologne, self-satisfaction, and something that makes my teeth clench.
Poppy’s shoulders rise. Her smile becomes armor. “Where?”
“Up near the bar. Don’t look.”
She looks anyway. A man in linen pants and a shirt that cost three hundred dollars but looks like clearance rack. Handsome in that aggressively casual way—hours of grooming disguised as effortlessness. The woman beside him is what I expect: willowy, serene, wearing enough crystals to open a metaphysical shop.
“That’s Serenity,” Poppy says. Flat. “She teaches hot yoga and makes her own kombucha.”
“Of course she does.”
“They look happy.”
They do. Preston’s hand is on the small of Serenity’s back. She’s laughing at something he said. Easy intimacy.
“Poppy—”
“I’m fine.” She straightens. “We should go say hello. Get it over with.”
“We don’t have to—”
“Yes, we do. That’s why you’re here.” She takes my hand. Her palm is clammy. “Come on. Time to earn your rate.”
The bitterness cuts deeper than it should.
Preston sees us. His smile falters before recovering. “Poppy. Wow. You look great.”
“Thanks.” Poppy’s grip tightens. “Preston, Serenity, this is Julian. Julian, this is my ex-fiancé and his girlfriend.”
“Fiancée,” Serenity corrects. She holds up her left hand. A raw crystal wrapped in copper wire. “Preston proposed last month. During a sound bath ceremony.”
“How... resonant,” I say.
Poppy makes a sound—laugh or sob, I can’t tell. I pull her closer.
Preston’s eyes narrow. “Julian. I don’t think Poppy mentioned you.”
“We’ve been keeping things quiet. Poppy values her privacy.”
“Since when?” Preston laughs. “She posts everything online.”
