“Everything okay down there?” Rose calls.
“Fine,” Poppy says, getting to her feet. “Sorry.”
“My fault.”
“Well, I’m glad I ran into you.”
“Literally,” we say at the same time.
Poppy laughs, and I swear that sound does something to my soul. It’s like a ribbon wraps itself around my heart and lifts it higher in my chest.
She hands me my drill battery. Our fingers brush, and something like a shock passes between us. I deal with wires and circuits and lightbulbs all day, every day. I know how these things work, and there is no such thing as literal sparks flying between two people. But I don’t know how else to describe the connection I experience with Poppy every time we’re skin-to-skin. All I know is I want to experience it again and again.
But she’s off limits, and the electrical current I’m craving is only one-sided, so really, I need to stop obsessing over it.
Poppy bends back down and picks up a book. “Gosh, aren’t we on the same page?” She wiggles the book. “Get it.”
I level her with a look that says,That’s not funny,even though I think she’s the most adorable creature in the whole wide world.
“Oh come on! Book. Page. Get it?”
“Ba-dum-ching,” I deadpan.
She laughs again. “I’ve gotta talk to Rose, but then, can I pick your brain about Party at the Park?”
Before I can answer, Rose appears. “Hey, Pops. What did you need?”
Poppy slings her arm over her sister’s shoulder. “Let’s talk over here.”
“Don’t let me keep you two from your plans.” Rose flips her gaze between us with a curious look in her eye. A look I can’t place. She stares at me, and I stare back at her, but she shakes her head, turning her focus to her sister.
“No, it’s important,” Poppy says. “Big, can you wait?”
“Sure.”
The sister’s disappear into the tiny office behind the register, and a sense of foreboding washes over me.
“This is such a cool venue.” Poppy leans against the chest-height fence that encircles Lighthouse Park and stares out over the water.
She’s been all business since we left Mood Reader. No small talk. No teasing. Just work and questions about Party in the Park. We’ve sorted out the timing of the assembly of the stage and who she needs to communicate with about permitting. I’ve assured her that, on my end, nothing about this event will be a surprise. My team has coordinated the set-up for the past two years. I’m not worried about it.
“And you’ll add extra lights for the Party in the Park Promenade, right? Make the place pop?”
I fight an eye roll. She’s leaning into making the dance romantic and—for lack of a better word—sparkly.
“If that’s what you want, sure.”
She nods, and I hope I’ve set her mind at ease. But as she stares out at the bay, she looks almost wistful.
“You okay?” I rest my forearms on the fence, keeping six inches of distance between us.
She gives me a sidelong glance before facing forward again. “Have you talked to Holland?”
I frown. “No. Why?”
My brother sent me a text the morning after the wedding saying his coach told him he had to get back for some extra practices. He didn’t say goodbye in person, which is classic Holland. Is Poppy upset that they didn’t get to spend more time together?
She sighs. “We broke up.”
