Four Day Fling(55)



“What trouble are you causing now?” Poppy asked them. “You’re not putting those on Twitter, are you? You know the rules of the wedding. No photos today.”

Both boys’ eyes widened. “We’re not doing anything, Poppy,” they said in unison.

I laughed. “They just wanted their photo. They know the rules. It’s all good.”

She grinned and hugged them both. “Your mom is looking for you. Go, quick, and I won’t tell her about the time you pooped in the pool and blamed your sister.”

They ran like their asses were on fire.

I quirked a brow at her.

“My cousins.” She smirked. “They were six, and Ross accidentally pooped in the pool. He blamed Ryan, who blamed Ruby, and I’m the only one who knows the truth.”

“You’re going to blackmail them with that for eternity, aren’t you?”

“You bet.” Her smile widened. “I don’t have a little brother, but if I did, I’d be the worst big sister ever.”

“I can’t imagine why.”

She smacked me. “Mom wants you. Apparently, you’re supposed to be in the photos.”

I stilled. “Why?”

She sighed, throwing her hands out in a shrug. “Something about her thinking we’re serious enough that you should be in some of the family shots.”

I rubbed the back of my neck. “Do you think we laid it on a little thick, then?”

“You think?” she said flatly. “Whatever. If anything, Mark and Rory get bragging rights that the Adam Winters was at this wedding. Just…tell them it’s only been a few months and while you’re happy to do a few, you don’t think you should be in a lot, okay?”

There was an edge of frustration to her voice, and I wanted to remind her that this was her idea, but I got the feeling she’d simply tell me I didn’t have to agree to be her date, but I had, so it was both of our faults.

And she’d be right.

She was right enough on her own without me literally inviting her to be right.

“All right. We can do this. It’s only a few photos, right?”

“Yeah. Just a few, then Mark and Ro go off and do all their fancy lovey-dovey ones. It’ll take ten minutes.” She took my hand and pulled me through the people. “Promise.”

***

Spoiler: it did not take ten minutes, and she lied.

“That was not ten minutes,” I told her when she joined me at our table with drinks from the bar.

Poppy set a Coors Light in front of me and sat down with her pink margarita thing. “That’s what they told me! I was passing on information. It’s really not my fault if the photographer wanted every pose done ten times.” She paused. “Also, it was cute when you posed with Rory. I’m pretty sure you made his entire life with that.”

I shrugged, toying with the ice-cold bottle. “He’s a great kid. That took so long because he talked my ear off between shots about how much he loves hockey and wants to be just like me.”

Poppy’s smile was small, and her brown eyes sparkled. “You have no idea. You know how teen girls are with people like Harry Styles?”

“Not Harry Styles in particular, but yes, I have four sisters. I know how crazy teen girls are.”

“Well, that. You’re his Justin Timberlake or whatever.” She waved a hand dismissively. “I think he’s going to be bragging about this for years. Actually, so is Mark.”

I laughed, leaning back in the chair.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Other than the question you just asked?”

She pursed her lips.

I grinned. “Go ahead.”

Poppy propped her chin up on her hand and tilted her head slightly. “Does it feel weird knowing that people look at you like you’re some kind of God?”

Boy, that was a loaded question.

“Truthfully, yeah.” I gave her a half-smile. “It feels weird. I’m not gonna lie. The only thing that makes it bearable is knowing that I was once Rory.”

“I guess that makes sense.”

“Haven’t we had this conversation before?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” She shrugged a shoulder. “I think we have, but it just made me think again. Seeing my cousins, then Rory, then all the others after the photos when they were practically lining up to take their turn…”

I chuckled and swigged my beer. “It can be overwhelming.”

“And you smile at all of them. I can’t even smile at myself most days.”

“But you’re not a people person,” I reminded her. “You’re barely a Poppy person.”

“It’s hard to argue with the facts.” She snorted. “Are you a people person?”

“God, no, but I’m great at pretending I am.”

She wrinkled her face up. She looked fucking cute. “I don’t think I could pretend to be. I hate people that much.”

“I never could have guessed.”

“You’re getting too sarcastic. I think I’m rubbing off on you.”

“I can say with one hundred percent confidence that you can rub on me all you like.”

She choked on her margarita. I bit back a laugh as she smacked her chest as she coughed.

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