AllFreeNovel
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“Of course. If you need more pictures of him, ask Poppy. She has a shoebox full of them.”
I tuck some of the photos into my breast pocket. “How old was she when she lost him?”
“Five years old. They were inseparable. It made me kind of jealous.”
I still think she’s jealous of her daughter, but I keep that thought to myself. Unlike her, I don’t speak what’s on my mind all the time. I didn’t know Poppy was like me and lost a parent at the same age I did. It amazes me how we’re from a different background, yet our childhoods are similar. Like me, she has suffered a great deal of losses. At least her stepfather doesn’t treat her like shit.
I get up from my seat, dust off my pants, and slide my hand into my pocket. I’m on my lunch break and don’t want to be late getting back to work. Poppy took the day off to make sure her dress is altered correctly, and she’s meeting with the wedding planner to make sure everything is in order, so I hired a temp assistant to do her job until we have our wedding. I usually don’t take work off, unless I’m sick—like in the hospital sick.
“I’ll be seeing you at the wedding,” I say pointedly.
I hold out my hand, and she grasps my palm, squeezing lightly. “You will.”
I head toward the entrance. “Jasper.”
I stop, but I don’t turn around. I’m ready to get out of here.
“Thank you.”
I nod, then I leave the condo. Once I’m in the car, I tell Chance to take me back to work, and I grab my phone from my breast pocket to find I have new text messages from Poppy. One of them being a picture of her dress.
I shoot her text.
Me: Your dress is nice. Now send me a pic of the lingerie you’re going to wear underneath on our wedding night.
My dick is hard thinking about our honeymoon. I’m taking her to a private island I own and, hopefully, I’ll have my way with her. I want her to drop that foolish rule about us not fucking.
My phone dings with a message.
Wife: In your dreams.
She doesn’t know how much I’ve been dreaming of fucking her like crazy, and sooner or later it’s going to happen.
I can’t wait.
Poppy
Ilet the hairstylist curl my hair with a hot iron. Today is my wedding day, and I’m more nervous than I’ve ever been in my life. What should be a happy day is one I’m dreading. It’s going to cost me everything: love, babies, my freedom. I’ll be tied to a man who doesn’t believe in family or love for the rest of my life. He’s like a machine that only runs on work, work, and business. My parents haven’t shown up, and I try to swallow the lump in my throat and try to keep my tears at bay. It’s supposed to be the happiest day of my life, and I’m supposed to be reunited with my family, but it looks like that’s not going to happen. I should have known my mother wouldn’t show up, she can be too prideful at times.
Lake eyes me curiously in the mirror, and she frowns. I shake my head. Once the makeup artist is done with Lake’s gorgeous face, Lake walks up to me and hikes up her teal maid of honor dress, squats down, and a sad smile spreads across her face. She knows I’m upset. Lake has always known what I’m feeling before I even speak the words.
“What’s wrong, Poppy?”
“I’m praying my mother will come around, but I don’t think she will.”
Lake taps her chin and fingers the thick curls in my hair. “Is your mother’s approval worth the expense of your mental health?”
I honestly don’t know. I can’t imagine living without my mother and not speaking to her. I can’t imagine not having our private conversations and our lives not going back to how it used to be. I need my mother more than anything in this world. My mother has sacrificed so much to give me the life she wanted me to have. She only wants what’s best for me, but sometimes I feel like her best isn’t my best.
“She is.”
“What about your dreams?”
Her words strike a nerve, though I don’t know why.
“What about them?”
She studies my expressions for several moments. “You wanted a child, and you wanted your own family. You talk shit about love now, but I know you, Poppy, youlovelove. You believe in fate and soul mates. Do you want to give up your dreams to please your mother?”
