“Because someone should be,” I finally say, the truth raw in my throat.
“I don’t need—” She starts, but I cut her off.
“Yes, you do. You need someone to make you eat, to tell you to sit down, to care whether or not you’re okay.”
“And you’ve appointed yourself?” Her chin lifts, defiant.
“Apparently.”
We stare at each other. The fairy lights strung overhead cast shadows on her face, and she looks tired, beautiful, and so freaking stubborn that I want to—
“You know what your problem is?” she says, her voice low and dangerous.
“Please, enlighten me.” I cross my arms, bracing myself.
“You hide.”
“I hide?” The accusation stings more than it should.
Her posture straightens, and she lifts her chin, appraising me with those sharp eyes. “Behind work. Behind this whole grumpy, emotionally unavailable persona. You hide because it’s easier than actually feeling something.”
“That’s rich, coming from someone who can’t stop moving long enough to—” My hands curl into fists.
“At least I believe in something—love, marriage, happy endings.” Her voice rises, passionate now.
“Naïve.”
“What?” She goes very still.
“You’re naïve. You sell fairy tales to people who’ll be divorced in five years.” The words are cruel. I know it the moment they leave my mouth.
Her face changes. It goes hard, all the softness bleeding away. “Wow.”
“Poppy—” I reach for her, but she steps back.
“No, you’re right. I’m naïve. A stupid little wedding planner who believes in love.” She laughs, but it’s sharp and brittle. “At least I’m not so damn scared of feeling something that I’ve turned into a robot.”
“I’m not—”
“You are. You’re terrified. Of wanting something. Of someone mattering. Of being human.” Her eyes are bright now, too bright.
“And you’re so desperate to matter to someone that you’ll kill yourself making everyone else’s dreams come true.” The words hang between us like grenades.
Her eyes shine with unshed tears. “Screw you.”
“Poppy—”
But she’s already leaving. Shoes in hand, dignity intact, walking away as if I didn’t just gut her. The door swings shut behind her, and the sound echoes in the sudden silence.
Shit.
I stand there like an idiot, replaying the conversation. The way her face crumpled before she hid it. The truth in what we both said. The damage we just inflicted.
“That went well.”
I turn. CeCe leans in the doorway, arms crossed, her expression unreadable.
“How much did you hear?” I run both hands through my hair, tugging hard enough to hurt.
