They nodded shyly.
“Of course! One rule, though. You don’t put them online until tomorrow when the wedding is done, all right?”
“We promise,” they said together.
“All right then. Who’s got the camera?”
Ross dug into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “Do you mind if we do one together and one alone?”
“You got it, buddy.” I bent down as the boys came to either side of me. They did a few snaps of each shot and then alternated between having individual photos with me.
They were thanking me with enthusiasm when a familiar redhead came up behind them and ruffled their hair with her hands.
“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.
“If you’re laughing at me,” she said scratchily, “I’m going to kill you.”
I held my hands out at my sides. “Not laughing!”
“Mm.” She gave me a fierce side-eye and took another sip of her drink. “Trying not to laugh is more like it.”
Couldn’t argue with the truth.
I gave her a playful grin and nodded when I saw her mom over her shoulder. “Your mom’s coming.”
She groaned, slapping her hand to her face.
“Poppy? It’s time for the speeches,” Miranda said, touching her shoulder. “Are you ready?”
“Sure. I’ll be right there,” Poppy said without looking at her.
I twisted my lips to the side as Miranda left. “You’re not ready at all, are you?”
She shook her head, her curls flying. “Not in the slightest.”
Reaching over the table, I squeezed her hand, then brought it to my lips to kiss her fingers. “You’ll be fine. As long as you don’t fall off the chair.”
She groaned as she stood up. “Great. Now I know I’m going to fall off the chair. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome, Red. You’re welcome.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN – POPPY
Sunsets and Speeches
My stomach rolled as Mark finished his speech. Everyone broke out into applause, and I caught Adam’s eye in the crowd. He winked, giving me a small, reassuring smile.
It didn’t work. I was nervous as hell. I hated speaking in front of people. I avoided it at all costs. The last time I’d done it, I’d tripped over my own feet on the way up to the stage and almost flashed everyone my underwear.
The only thing I had going for me for this one was the fact my dress was long enough to cover my ass if I fell over.
That, and I had alcohol. I’d drink my way through this if I had to.
I’d have to. I knew that.
“Your turn, sweetie,” Dad said, holding his hand out for me.
Swallowing hard, I took his hand and stepped up onto the chair. My stomach literally flipped as I looked out at the hundred or so people turning in my direction.
“Her boobs look bigger. Did she get her boobs done?” My great-aunt Linda shouted. “Is she pregnant?”
I clicked my tongue and took the mic from Dad. “Not how I planned to start this speech, but, uh, Aunt Linda, no, I did not get my boobs done. And,” I raised my glass, “Definitely not pregnant.”
“Why?” she crowed. “Aren’t you having sex?”
This was why I didn’t do speeches.