Too good to last.
I notice the silhouetted family walking at us before Poppy does, and I have a muscular-level response. What I mean by that is my whole body goes tense, from my scalp to the arches of my feet.
“What’s wrong?” Poppy must sense a change in my bearing.
“Nothing.”
“Big,” she says, stretching out that one syllable like she’s saying,Don’t lie to me.
“It’s fine.” I steel myself as the family gets closer and closer.
“Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in.”
The voice sounds like nails on a chalkboard. Is that too unoriginal? Well, then it sounds like the sickening break of a bone. All crack and snap. Everything out of place. Jagged. Painful.
Poppy glances at me. “Is she talking to us?”
Before I can answer, Tricia is standing in front of us, along with her husband, Terry, and their four-month-old son, Fennimore. Her eyes are flashing as she appraises me and then spins to size up Poppy. “What are you doing around here, Mack? This is my side of town.”
My eyes are angled down at the sidewalk.
“Excuse me.” Poppy’s got her usual cheerful tone in place—the same one that earned her thousands of dollars in donations in the last hour and a half. I want to tell her to be quiet. There is no winning when Tricia is involved. But that would involve me speaking, and where this woman is concerned, I’ve basically forgotten how to do that.
I glance up to see Poppy giving a little wave. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m new to town. Poppy Kasper.” She extends her hand in Tricia’s direction.
Tricia’s lips curl up, but her expression is tinged with disdain. “Holland’s girlfriend, right?” She takes Poppy’s outstretched hand and gives it a squeeze. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised to see you here with Mack. Someone should warn Holland.”
Poppy flinches. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Mack can’t be trusted when it comes to women.”
I’m grinding my teeth now.
“Excuse me?” Poppy shoots me a look that I can’t read.
Before Tricia can say anything else, her husband, Terry, steps up alongside of her. “Now, sweetheart, is this worth it?”
He’s talking to his wife, but his eyes are on me.
Tricia sticks her nose in the air. “No, it really isn’t.”
They make a move to go around us.
Poppy steps to the side. She’s still smiling in their direction, but it’s grown a little less authentic from what I can tell. “Looking forward to seeing you at the Party in the Park! The kids’ game line-up looks spectacular!”
Tricia waves over her shoulder without looking around.
I turn and stride to my truck. Poppy has to jog to catch up to me.
“So,” she says. When I don’t respond, she adds, “That’s Tricia.”
“That’s Tricia,” I repeat.
“Want to tell me what happened between you two?”
“Nope.”
“Figured as much.”
