“See.” She pointed to the stranger. “People are literally terrified of me because of that nickname.” A drop of something green and slimy fell from her arm. “What is that?! I have to go to the doctor! No, I hate doctors. But what if I just contracted something in that dirty city water? Gah, I have to! What the hell is my life?!” She ran away before I could get another word in.
“Don’t jump in any more lakes because of me!” I yelled after her.
“Then don’t make eye contact with me ever again!” she yelled back before sprinting over the little bridge, leaving a trail of wet footprints behind her.
She really was adorable. And a little crazy. And definitely not a sign from Brooklyn. Besides, I didn’t feel drawn to her. Not the same way I felt drawn to Kennedy. I sighed. I was going to hell.
I turned to the restaurant. Even though Ash was crazy, I wished I was running in the opposite direction of this restaurant like her. Because at least she was nice crazy and not mean crazy like Poppy. I sighed and pushed through the doors of the venue Brooklyn and I had chosen for our wedding. Surely Mr. Pruitthad invited Poppy to the wedding. She knew what this place meant to me. And she was going to purposely shit all over it. Not that it mattered. I hadn’t come here since Brooklyn died.
Poppy was already seated in the restaurant. She was easy to spot. She was the only one with an evil smile staring directly at me. I was probably crazy, but I would have risked another night with Ash over this any day.
“Hey,” I said when I reached the table.
Her gaze scrutinized me from head to toe. “Do you have algae on your shoulder?”
I looked down at my right shoulder. There was definitely something green on there. I pulled my sweatshirt off and plopped down across from Poppy. “So what’s good here?” I lifted up the menu so I didn’t have to look at her.
“I thought this was one of your favorite restaurants?”
So she did bring me here to torture me? “Not anymore. And I think you know why.”
She reached out and pulled the menu down so I’d look at her. “Matthew, I didn’t ask you here to be spiteful. I honestly thought you liked this restaurant.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. Anything Poppy did was part of some bigger scheme. But she seemed different than she had in my office the other day. Her face didn’t look as stiff. She almost looked…kind.
The waiter came over. “Hi, I’m…”
“Can’t you see that we’re in the middle of a conversation?” Poppy snapped.
Wow, okay, not kind then.
“Sorry,” the waiter said. He went to walk away.
“But we’ll have two glasses of champagne to start,” Poppy said.
He nodded before practically fleeing.
“Champagne?” I asked. What in the hell did we have to celebrate?
“It feels like a good evening for champagne.”
I had nothing to say to that.
She leaned back in her chair. “You know…both my parents passed away when I was in college.”
I was starting to wonder if evil people were bad at segues because they were so socially unaware. Or did she think talking about death was a champagne kind of thing? That wouldn’t have surprised me.
“It was a tragic accident,” she said.
I’d heard about her parents’ deaths. And I was sorry for her loss. But it was no accident. Her parents died in a shoot-out at a restaurant. I couldn’t sit here and pretend they were goodpeople. Innocent lives were lost that night. It had been all over the news.
“Uncle Richard is really the only father figure I have left.”
“I’m sorry about that.” And I truly was. Because having Mr. Pruitt for a father was worse than not having one at all.
She smiled. “Why do you hate him so much? He always speaks so highly of you.”
“I’m sure that’s not true.”
