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“Poppin? Like Mary Poppins?” Archie asked.
“More like porcupine,” said the girl with a ponytail and smart eyes. She took a drink of her chocolate milk eyeing Poppy carefully, like she could read her.
“It’s just Poppy,” she said, unfazed. “I’m a podcaster, and a future business partner of your father’s.”
The girl rolled her eyes. “What’s next? Will Dad ask the janitor to watch us?”
Poppy’s heart sank. She could feel the undertone of hurt in the girl’s sarcasm. Growing up, she watched her two young brothers a lot because her mother was either working a double shift or drinking a bit too much. She’d learned how to make the best of things and taught her siblings to not to expect too much. “I’m sure your father is doing the best he can,” she said, using the same line she used about their mother to Chase and Chance.
The girl shrugged. “You obviously haven’t met Dad.”
“What are your names?” she asked, hoping to dispel some of the tension lurking around them like secondhand smoke.
“I’m Archie,” the boy said, with an easy smile. “And that’s Willow.”
“I love the names. Ages?”
Archie picked the glass napkin holder from the center of the table and played with it, passing it from hand to hand. “Eight, and Willow’s ten.”
Poppy glanced at Willow, who shot her a we-don’t-have-to-do this look.
“I’m twenty-six,” Poppy said. Though she felt like one hundred. She’d been chasing Ethan Sterling for a couple of months, but the man was impossible to get hold of. His marketing team already blocked her from her attempts, so she hoped she had better luck stalking him.
After all, she read articles about him, and knew he was a visionary when it came to the entertainment industry. In his latest feat, he’d secured the investors to bank roll an impressive complex in the middle of Manhattan.
Movie theaters, restaurants, bars and even a concert venue. She may be living in New York for months and not years, but even she knew that space like that was at a premium. If he heard her out, maybe he’d give her a chance.
For the last few weeks, she’d been trying to get her podcast, What’s Poppying, off the ground. The idea of a small-town Texan girl’s point of view in the big city linked to the hottest new entertainment mecca should draw more people.
She’d get there. She had to.
This was for her. She’d raised her twin brothers—younger by one year—and done her due diligence. Now, it was her time to make things happen and chase her dreams. Live a good life, filled with freedom and possibilities.
“My mom was always busy when we were growing up. I watched my brothers a lot.”
“Well, my mom was always coming and going, but the last time I saw her was two years ago,” Willow said, and this time, the pain in her voice was unmasked.
Poppy’s heart froze in her chest, stilling all of her body. She knew Ethan was divorced, and may have clicked on a gossip site about his ex-wife having cocaine addiction problems, but she had no idea his ex was so far removed from the kids’ lives. An ache settled in her chest, with a warm wave of sadness. “I’m sorry,” she said in a low voice, looking at Willow. “That’s not fair.”
A sharp sound startled her, and she looked around to see chunks from the glassy napkin holder Archie had been playing with on the ground.
“Ooops.”
“It’s okay. It happens,” she said, then lifted his palms to make sure he wasn’t hurt. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” he said with a shy smile.
She tucked a strand of hair away from his forehead. “Then we’re good,” she said, and felt like an impostor. Nothing about that situation was good—those kids weren’t, she wasn’t, and judging by the stern way Ethan had treated her, he wasn’t either.
She was about to go round the table and pick up the bigger glass pieces from the floor, when she saw his assistant, Laurel. Within inches of her. The same woman she’d “accidentally” spilled iced coffee on. All because of her sheer desperation, of course. She’d been wrong, but she’d at least had gotten the assistant away from her desk.
“You!” she said, with a look that would freeze her to the spot if she could. “Mr. Sterling told me about what happened. I’m here now, and will hang out with the kids until the driver comes and takes them home.”
“Not again,” Willow said, slapping her palm on her forehead.
“I’m sorry about the coffee,” Poppy said. “You still look terrific, it it’s any consolation.”
Laurel smoothed her hand over her black shirt, still damp, but neatly tucked into a pencil skirt. “Kids, come.”
