“She came up with it?”
“Yeah.” I turn on to the street that leads to the marina, stopping beneath a palm nearly stripped of fronds. I ignore the guilt creeping up, slow and steady. “Along with Sal’s daughter, Kiara.”
Douglas chuckles. “I know I said to indulge her, but you didn’t need to go that far.”
“It’s a good idea. You just said so.”
“Jack, I know how much you hate special events.”
“I’m trusting her when it comes to this kind of thing.”
“She has been cultivating quite the online presence for your little project. Do you have a menu yet?”
“It’s coming together.” I don’t miss the way he calls what we’re doinglittle. “She has a good palate, sir. Good instincts, when it comes to food.”
She’s creative. Curious. Far more invested in learning than I was willing to give her credit for. I start walking again. I want to see her. I want to hand her a poppy seed bagel and make a joke about how I couldn’t resist buying it. Ask if she prefers scallion or plain cream cheese. That’s an important thing to know about someone.
“That’s difficult to imagine. She’s never shown much interest in the culinary world before.”
“Maybe you just haven’t given her much of a chance,” I say impulsively.
Douglas is silent long enough I think I made a mistake.
When he speaks again, however, I sense nothing but genuine worry in his tone. “How is she, Jack? Really, I mean. Be honest.”
I pause by the entrance to the docks. I don’t know what to say.
“I tried calling her again, the other day,” he continues. “Suzanne and Julia keep telling me not to worry, but it’s driving me insane.”
“I’m not keeping anything from you,” I say, finally. “If she wasn’t okay, you’d know.”
“Is she still thinking about McCabe?”
“No. I told you; she didn’t care about those photos.”
“And she hasn’t taken up with someone else?”
“No.” I can’t tell if Douglas is implying anything, and I sure ashell don’t want to make a misstep like that. “She’s been focused on work.”
It’s the truth. We’re friends, at most. Friends stuck on a desert island together, messing around to scratch a mutual itch. During a more pathetic moment of rashness while waiting for the bagels, I snooped around online, looking for her dating history before Ryan. Wall Street douchebags, influencers, minor celebrities. Unsurprisingly, all men with money and status.
Men like the guy Jessica was using me to get to.
But this is different. Poppy isn’t secretly using me. When this is all over, she’ll go back to her old life. She’ll find the man Douglas will callsonand mean it. I’ll be a blip in her history. A fun detour.
“Good. Good.” Douglas lets out a huff. “I don’t want her heart broken again by an ill-advised rebound.”
I grimace. I’m no expert, but I’d be willing to bet that rebounds involve kissing. Good thing I won’t know that particular pleasure again. “Right.”
“Keep me posted.”
“Yes, sir.”
I end the call, but don’t make my way back to the houseboat.
I haven’t forgotten last night. Poppy, usually so vocal, went nearly silent at the moment I expected her to be loudest. It’s as though she retreated into herself. Lost her spark when I wanted to watch her shine.
I don’t buy that that’s how she really wanted to act.
