I fish it out and find a message from Poppy.
Poppy
How’s everything in the Cove? Miss you guys!
Noli responds before I get a chance, and I find myself nodding along to her message.
Noli
You’re on your honeymoon. Why are you texting? Isn’t Mack monopolizing your time?
Poppy and Noli are my best friends, my ride-or-dies. We’ve faced the ups and downs of life together and lived to tell the tale. Poppy, as the oldest, assumed a mother-hen role, making sure Noli and I had a roof over our heads and graduated high school after our mom died, our dad left us, and our grandmother, who had taken us in, passed away.
When I spell it all out like that, I have to cringe. We’ve been through it.
So, yeah, while we tease Poppy for being overbearing, we’re grateful for her.
Poppy
We’re getting in plenty of quality time, don’t worry.
Rose
Quality time. Is that what the kids are calling it these days?
I send off a GIF of Marvin Gaye singing “Let’s Get It On.”
Noli
TMI.
Poppy
Poppy and Mack got married last weekend, on the Saturday after Thanksgiving. The wedding was stunning, and the couple was radiant and so obviously in love even someone like me with my nonfunctioning heart could feel the magic in the air. They’ve been on their honeymoon for all of three days, and I miss them. It’ll be different when they get back. They didn’t live together before they got married, but now, Poppy will move from the side of the duplex she’s been sharing with me to the other half where Mack lives.
Not sure how I feel about sharing a wall with the newlyweds, to be honest. But I’ll figure it out. I could always find a newplace. It was Poppy who got us the rental when we first moved to town. We affectionately call our half of the duplex “The Downer” because it’s been such a fixer upper. But I’m not tied to it in any way. It’s been another pit stop on the endless highway of my life. Where am I going, you ask? Your guess is as good as mine.
I don’t need to be dwelling on that right now, not when I’m staring down a meeting that I’m dreading in—I check the clock again—ten minutes. I fire off two more quick texts.
Rose
Quit being such a mom and go enjoy your new husband, Pops.
And spare us the details.
Noli
Seriously. We’re begging you.
Poppy
You guys are no fun.
You know you love me!
P.S. Noli, tell Collin he better not propose to you for real while we’re gone, or I’ll kick him in the shins.
