Chapter twenty-one

Poppy

I shook the cramp from my hand and picked up the piping bag again. Valentine’s Day couldn’t get here fast enough. The local paper had included Red Blossoms Bakery’s cookie bouquet in an article titled “Skip the Overpriced Roses for Your Sweetheart with These Fresh Gifts.”

Not the best story for Mom’s flower shop, but a huge win for us. Though based on how frazzled she looked, Mom was doing fine.

As excited as I was to grow the bakery, I worried we wouldn’t be able to fill all the orders. The cookies had a decent shelf life, but we could only make them so far in advance. The free advertising had also brought in some non-Valentine’s business, like the massive cookie centerpiece I’d been working on all afternoon for a baby shower.

Too bad it wasn’t the type of work that erased every other thought in my head. Ice a cookie. Think of all the reasons Theo wouldn’t want me to sleep over. Refill the piping bag. Think of all the reasons I wouldn’t want to date me. Drop a cookie on the floor. Curse, then think of all the prettier women in Peace Falls with charming dispositions who Theo could choose instead of me.

We’d texted on and off since Thursday night, but anyone scrolling through our messages wouldn’t think anything had happened. It’s not like I was expecting late night sexting or booty calls, but a small acknowledgement of our transition from friends to more would have made me feel a lot better.

“Oh, my word,”

Rowan squealed behind me. “Those stork cookies are adorable.”

“They start to lose their appeal after twenty,”

I said, shoving the last cookie in the florist foam and standing back to admire my work. I pulled out my phone and snapped a picture to post on our socials later, much later, like February 15th later. We were about to be a hearts-and-flowers-only operation.

The doorbell rang. “I’ll get it,”

I said, desperate to escape the kitchen I hadn’t left all afternoon. I ran to the front door and opened it without looking.

“Hey,”

Theo said, giving me one of those rare smiles that made me want to melt into a puddle at his feet.

“Hi.”

Of course, I was a hot mess the first time he saw me after we had sex. He looked sexy as hell in a pair of gray slacks and a black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled to show his inked forearms. I’d never seen him in anything so fancy. We stared at each other a beat. Should I hug him? Jump on him and wrap my legs around him koala style? He reached out and placed his hands on my face before bending to kiss me. Koala style sounded pretty good right now, but just as I relaxed into the kiss, he pulled away.

“Do you have a minute?”

he asked. “I probably should have texted before coming over.”

“Please,”

I said, opening the door wider. “You’re saving me from clean-up duty. Rowan can’t stand a dirty kitchen. She won’t wait for me to washup.”

“You sure?”

he asked, wiping his boots on the welcome mat.

Something clanged in the kitchen. “Oh, I’m sure. Don’t worry,”

I said, flopping onto the couch. “I’ve already worked a couple hours more than her today.”

He sat right beside me, our thighs brushing. My core clenched like he’d touched something far more sensitive than my jean-clad leg. I blamed his cologne or body wash or whatever it was that smelled like a forest after a rainstorm. The fresh scent had tortured me for a year.

“So, does that mean you’re finished for the day?” he asked.

Not really. There was always something I could do. Instead, I said, “I am.”

“Great. Would you like to go to dinner with me?”

I looked down at my icing-covered shirt. “Right now?”

“Whenever you’re ready. If we can’t get into Antonia’s, we can just grab a bite at Church.”

“You want to take me to Antonia’s?”

“You don’t like their food?”

“I do, but it’s really nice. We could just get take out and head back to your place. I’d kind of like to talk about the other night.”

He started bouncing his knee. “We should talk now and then go to Antonia’s. It’s where I’ve always imagined taking you on our first date. We skipped ahead a few steps, but technically we haven’t had our first date.”

I wondered how long he’d been imagining our first date and why the thought of going on it made him so nervous. Maybe he wanted to pull back again now that we’d released all that pent-up sexual energy?

Fuck that.

“As long as I don’t have to wait two dates more to get a return invite to your air mattress.”

His knee bounced harder. Shit. That wasn’t a good sign.

“Theo,”

I said, placing my hand on his knee. “Is everything all right?”

He didn’t say anything and my heart sank. Something was definitely wrong. Maybe he had second thoughts about us, and the date was his way of feeling out if he wanted to be with me. Those old geezers did put a lot of pressure on him. My sketch wasn’t exactly subtle either. A slight tremor started in my fingers. Theo noticed and grabbed my hand.

“Just say it,”

I said, pushing out the words like they were made of needles.

“There’s something you should know about me,”

he said, squeezing my hand. “Something I should have told you a long time ago, but I was afraid you’d think less of me.”

I thought I knew Theo better than anyone outside my family. The fact he’d kept a big secret from me made my stomach ache. My mind swirled through all the possibilities. Maybe he had an online girlfriend. Maybe he had a kid from the brief time he slept around. Maybe he had a super weird fetish and was embarrassed to tell me about it.

“Spit it out, Theo, before I puke,”

I said, pulling my hand from his.

He blew out a breath. “So, you’ve seen my tats and piercings.”

I nodded.

“They’re not entirely aesthetic. Sometimes I do them because I want to feel the pain.”

“Crap on a cracker,”

I said. “OK. Well, I’ve never tried BDSM but if that’s what you’re into, I guess I could give it a whirl. I mean clearly, I’ve never tried it since you’re the first man I’ve been with all the way. You’d have to tell me what to do. Wait, if you like feeling pain would that make me the Domme? You kind of took charge the other night, so I’m a little confused. But I guess it’s like acting, right? It might take me a couple weeks to get ready. No way am I buying a whip in person anywhere around here.”

Theo’s lips quirked.

“You’re not talking about being a sub, are you?”

I asked, burying my face in my hands.

He gently pulled my fingers from my face and held both my hands in his. “It’s more like a pressure release for me than something pleasurable.”

“Oh. That’s um—”

“Not normal,”

he said, his knee bouncing again. “Neither is the cutting.”

“Cutting?”

He nodded.

“You cut yourself?”

He nodded again. His hands suddenly felt clammy in mine, or maybe mine were the one’s sweating.

“It’s not what you think,”

he said. “I’m not suicidal. Even after Logan died and I went to prison, I never once wanted to take my life.”

“Just hurt yourself?”

“Exactly,” he said.

Like someone admitting to double-dipping at a party because otherwise the chip to dip ratio was off. Like hurting himself was no big deal and might even make sense if you stopped to think about it.

“That’s messed up, Theo,”

I said, my voice breaking. I dropped his hands and wrapped my arms around my stomach.

“Come here, kardoula mou,”

he said, pulling me close. “I wanted to tell you before you saw the scars.”

“So, you haven’t done it in a while then,” I said.

He tensed.

“Just tell me, Theo,”

I said, lifting my face from his shirt.

“I hadn’t in a while. But the other night—”

I nodded. After we had sex. He couldn’t wait to get me out of his bed, out of his house, so he could punish himself for being with me.

I sucked in a deep breath, straightened my spine, and gently pulled away from him. “If you ever do that again, we’re finished. I won’t be the reason you hurt yourself. It makes me sick to think I already was.”

Harsh? Yes, but as much as I wanted Theo, I drew a hard line at being an excuse for him to self-harm. I had no problem being an ice-cold bitch if it prevented Theo from hurting himself.

“I’m so sorry, kardoula mou,”

he said, pulling me to his chest again. His heart pounded against my ear, strong and fast. “I’d understand if you want to take some time to think.”

“What does that really mean? I google translated Poppy or poppies, and it didn’t sound anything like it.”

Because of course I googled it the second I left his apartment that day. Even with all the extra vowels, the word still began with a p sound.

“It’s just something my mom used to call me,”

he said, kissing my forehead.

“Do you know what it means?”

I asked, looking up at him.

He nodded.

“But you’re not going to tell me?”

“What do you think it means?”

“Pain in my ass?”

He flashed me another smile. “I promise. It doesn’t mean that.”

“Well, then I guess I can go to dinner with you.”

“You’re sure?”

he asked, looking equally hopeful and terrified.

“I am if you are.”

“Great,”

he said, standing and lifting me with him. He set me down gently and pulled something from his pocket. “I should probably wait to give you this until after Cal gives Rowan his Valentine’s gift, or at least until I have a chain, but I’d love for you to wear it tonight, if you can.”

He handed me something small and shiny. I brought my palm closer to my face and gasped. It was a delicate silver flower. The petals curled around a small heart nestled on a bed of stamen where the pistil would have been. “It’s a poppy,” I said.

“There’s a loop on the back of one of the petals where you can thread a chain through.”

“I’ve never seen anything like it,”

I said, holding it closer to admire the intricate details on each petal. “Where’d you find it?”

“I made it,”

he said with obvious pride. It’s something I loved about Theo. Art was the only area of his life where he allowed himself to feel accomplished.

“It’s beautiful,”

I said, rising on my toes to kiss his cheek.

“If Rowan asks, tell her I found it on Etsy. I don’t want to ruin Cal’s gift.”

“Did he make her a spring of Rowan?”

I asked, slightly shocked. I mean, Cal was cool and all, but I couldn’t see him making something anywhere near as detailed as this.

“He made her a C out of gold. I’d never made a pendant before, so I played around with some sterling silver first.”

“I love it,”

I said. “I have a chain upstairs. Let me get changed, and we can go.”

“Take however long you need,”

he said, settling back on the couch.

As I ran up the stairs, it hit me. Though he’d apologized for making me feel sick, he hadn’t promised not to hurt himself again.