“Oh. Right.” She put her hand to her chest. “I’m so sorry for your loss, cousy.”
Are you?
“Speaking of relationships. I’m dating this really great guy.”
That was a really insensitive segue. I’d known Poppy and I wouldn’t be friends when I met her 16 years ago. As soon as my friend James had said she was the worst. If James didn’t like her, I kind of figured I wouldn’t either. And her looking like Isabella’s just-as-evil twin didn’t help. But now I knew for sure that we would never be close. What kind of person would talk about their amazing relationship in front of someone who just lost the love of their life?
“And it’s definitely getting serious,” she added.
“Really?” Kennedy said, deadpan.
“Yes, really,” Poppy said. “Super serious.”
“I’m so happy for you,” I said. I just didn’t want to hear about it right this second. I just wanted to get this meeting over with. Ihad a bunch of decisions to make, and her current relationship status had nothing to do with any of it.
Poppy smiled again, her lips curling evilly. “Wait, I think you might know him actually.”
“Oh yeah?” I’d been out of town for 16 years. I doubted I knew whatever tool she was currently dating. He was probably some douchey hot-shot CEO of a company that was inadvertently ruining the world somehow.
“Mhm. He went to Empire High at the same time as you.”
“Awesome.” I hoped it was Cupcake. That guy was still on my shitlist for what he’d done to Kennedy. Poppy and him deserved each other.
“Aren’t you dying to know who it is?” Poppy asked.
No. Not really.
Kennedy grabbed my hand under the table and squeezed it. I looked over at her. She looked like she was going to be sick. Wait…was it actually Cupcake? I’d never bring him up. I didn’t want Kennedy to ever have to think about that creep. But from the way she was holding on to me for dear life, I was pretty sure my guess was correct.
“Wait,” Poppy said. “Oh my gosh, silly me. I almost completely forgot. You two…”
“Angel,” my father said, cutting Poppy off mid-sentence. “You came.”
Kennedy exhaled slowly and let her hand fall from mine.
“Of course I came.” I needed answers. Real ones. Not orchestrated lies.
Poppy gasped. “Uncle Richard, what on earth happened to your face?” She put her hand on her nose.
My father had two black eyes. And his nose was red and swollen. Honestly, my hand didn’t feel much better than his face looked.
“My daughter has a mean right hook,” he said, with a hint of pride in his voice.
I was pretty sure he was the only father in existence that would be thrilled that he’d gotten punched in the face by his own daughter.
Poppy gasped again. “You hit him?”
“At least I didn’t shoot him,” I said. For someone who loved car bombs I didn’t know why she couldn’t wipe the shocked expression off her face. Maybe it was stuck that way from all the Botox.
“Let’s order,” my father said.
Poppy shook her head and pushed her menu aside. “I’m good.”
“Are you sure?” my father asked. “They have a delicious sandwich here made with real homemade turkey. And the chocolate milkshakes are the best in town.”
Poppy just gaped at him.
He waved the waitress down. “Four of the usual,” he said, without asking anyone what they wanted.
