That might not be why Poppy was hurrying them back to the main house, but the answer to Charley’s question wasn’t exactly wrong.
Charley laughed. “It is so weird. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it. I love my brother, all of us do, but you actually get, like, butterflies with him? You get all excited and giddy when you’re around him.”
The kind of excited she felt around Turner wasn’t the sort she should be discussing with her friend. There was an element of that adolescent excitement, but there was something so much more mature about it. He gave her such security, offered her such acceptance, that the warmth that suffused her when thinking about the man she loved was far more innate than a teenage crush.
“I love him,” Poppy said, her smile reluctant only because her thoughts became so carnal. “And he turns me on.”
Charley shuddered. “Yeah, see that’s gross. That’s what I’ll never get used to, the physical stuff. You better not be all PDA all the time now that we know you guys are together.”
“Refusing your brother is not something I’m good at,” Poppy said, enthused by Charley taking the conversation in the personal direction. “He tends to get pretty much whatever he wants, whenever he wants it.”
“Then I am so glad he has a job here… My brother always needs to be busy. If he didn’t have work to keep him occupied, I’d hate to think what he might replace it with.”
In contrast, Poppy was quite enjoying the fantasies that truth conjured. At her grandmother’s house, with both their families surrounding them, they couldn’t exactly get down and dirty any time they wanted. But maybe when they got back to the Venture, when they got the chance to embrace being together, maybe then they’d be able to keep each other busy for a while. Money did have its advantages. She wanted to work, sure, but that didn’t mean she had to rush into employment the first day they got back home.
“I can practically hear you thinking about it,” Charley said, though the sneer of disgust was more comical than offended.
“I try not to,” Poppy said, tightening her hold on Charley’s arm. “If I think too much about it, I tend to gravitate towards him.” Her friend laughed as they went inside and up the stairs. “I have to get changed.”
They parted between their two bedrooms and Charley went into hers, closing the door behind her. Rather than go into her room, Poppy hurried down the long corridor, passing various other bedrooms to get to Zoey’s. She knocked and poked her head around the door.
“Zo?”
She jumped out of the closet, wringing her hands. “I am so worried. I didn’t think you were coming back.”
“I took Charley to the music room. I just came to check you’re still planning to do this… I’ll go and speak to Stephanie and round everyone up if you are.”
“Is Turner back?”
“I haven’t checked, but you don’t have to go downstairs until everyone’s in the drawing room. I can come get you?”
Inhaling, Zoey seemed to tense and fortify herself at the same time. When she nodded, Poppy read her determination, though the clench of her hands betrayed her anxiety.
“I can do this.”
“Yes, you can,” Poppy said, going into the room to give her a long hug. “Now…” Using Grammie’s trick of holding her upper arms to squeeze some strength into her, Poppy showed no doubt. “Take a few minutes to yourself. Don’t think about what might go wrong, think about how telling this truth will liberate you.”
Zoey nodded fast and Poppy showed another smile. She couldn’t take all of the worry away; some anxiety was natural. All she could do was facilitate the teen’s needs as best she could. So going downstairs, she found Stephanie and asked her to prepare the drawing room and if she’d sit with the kids in their room. Poppy hadn’t run that by Faye or Valerie yet, so her next port of call was the suite Faye had been using. That seemed to be where they spent their time when they were in the house.
Just as anticipated, mother and daughter were there with the children surrounded by toys Poppy hadn’t known existed.
“Aunt Poppy!” Emmie declared the moment she entered. “Come play dolls with me.”
“No!” Noah shouted, clambering to his feet. “Take me to the house with Uncle Turner.”
“I’m hoping Uncle Turner is home, honey,” Poppy said, stroking the little guy’s hair