the fucking world! Poppy, don’t—”
“Would you quit yelling?” she hissed, fearing what might be overheard.
“For fifteen fucking years I’ve been alone,” he growled, bending down to get closer to her face. “Fifteen fucking years, not one person got it. And you just—you came along and I… How the fuck…”
Poppy wasn’t going to shrink. “You better dial it back.”
Her own hurt was eclipsed by anger that he’d jump to such a nefarious conclusion. Her actions may have been suspicious, but Poppy liked to think that she’d earned the benefit of the doubt.
“No,” he said, shaking his head, still filled with rage. “You wanted to push. You wanted me to push. You pushed me!” Scooping a hand onto her face and into her hair, he put her back to the wall. “You made me believe in this.”
Infected with her own rage, Poppy forgot about the previous night and focused only on the betrayal in front of her. “You believe I slept with Ritchie,” she said, an odd rasp in her cold voice. “You believe that the woman you’ve spent all these hours with, all this time… The woman you kissed. The woman who walked away from your bed, for you, don’t forget I did that for you… You believe she betrayed you for a cheap thrill with your best friend?”
Searching his gaze, Poppy wasn’t sure if she wanted to see anger or contrition. She wanted him to believe in her, to believe in them. The fact that he didn’t… She’d never been hurt so deep.
The door behind them opened.
“God, what’s with all the yelling?” Charley asked.
Turner’s hand dropped, he blinked in surprise at the woman behind her. Without a word, Poppy turned around to see a crazy-haired Charley propped against the wall, a wide yawn overtaking her.
“You okay, honey?” Poppy asked, going over to cup her friend’s face.
Charley’s eyes didn’t even look like they’d opened yet. But when her yawn faded, she blinked her bloodshot eyes. “I was a nutty mess last night, wasn’t I?”
Doing her best to comb some of the knots from Charley’s hair with her fingers, Poppy tried to put her back together a little. “I think maybe we owe Naught an apology… And maybe some money.”
It took Charley a second, but as Poppy wiped away her friend’s smudged makeup, she caught up and gasped. “Oh my God, I stole that liquor.”
Poppy laughed. “Yes, you did. I think there’s some left… somewhere. We can return what’s left.”
Stroking her stomach, Charley still appeared a little green. “I puked most of it into your toilet, didn’t I?”
Her head dropped to the side in sympathy. “Don’t worry about it, honey.”
“I feel crappy,” Charley wailed and then held her head, dropping it onto Poppy’s shoulder. “And we have to work tonight.”
“How about I take you over to this great spa I know and we get facials and massages… and maybe manicures.”
“My mom’s been blowing up my phone,” Charley said, without moving her head. “Did I call her last night?”
“Ritchie did,” Poppy said, stroking her hair. “He told her that you were crashing with a friend… He didn’t tell her who.”
“Mom should know you,” Charley said, hooking an arm into hers to draw her into the bedroom. Either she hadn’t noticed her brother or didn’t care that he was around. “I just want to sleep forever.”
Poppy drew her into the closet. “We’ll go shower at my gym…” she helped Charley put on some skinny jeans and scooped her hair into a high ponytail. “They have a rejuvenating smoothie something… I’ll get you one of those.”
“Is there caffeine in it?” Charley asked, sagging back against the wall as Poppy put herself together and threw a few things in a gym bag.
Working out was beyond both of them, but she couldn’t let Charley just disappear on her own. Patching her up some seemed like the least she could do before dropping her off at her mom’s.
“Maybe,” Poppy said. “Trust me. You’ll be ready for work before you know it.”
“What time is it?”
Scooping her friend away from the wall, she kept an arm around her while leading her out of the bedroom again. Turner was still standing there, but Poppy didn’t look at him.
“I don’t know, honey,” Poppy said, directing Charley’s feet to her shoes that were by the door.
“Oh, these shoes hurt.”
“Would you prefer gym shoes?”
“I want another head, can I have another head?”
Laughing, Poppy put on her own flats and opened the door.
“Poppy,” Turner said.
She didn’t plan to stop, but Charley did. She twisted all