I pushed her hair back from her face, as she said, “For pushing you away.”
My stomach hollowed out. Poppy’s eyes searched for something in mine, before her face contorted in pain. Fat tears poured down her paling face and her chest shuddered as she fought to calm her suddenly erratic breathing.
“Hey,” I said, planting my hands on her cheeks.
Poppy looked up at me. “We could have been like this if I hadn’t been silly. We could have found a way for you to come back. You could have been with me the whole time. With me. Holding me … loving me. You loving me and me loving you so fiercely.” Her voice stuttered, but she managed to finish. “I’m a thief. I stole our precious time—two years of you and me—for nothing.”
It felt like my heart physically tore as Poppy cried, gripping tightly to my arm as if frightened I would turn away. How had she not realized by now that nothing could tear me away?
“Shh,” I soothed, moving my head to rest against hers. “Breathe, baby,” I said softly. I placed Poppy’s hand over my heart, as she locked her gaze on mine. “Breathe,” I repeated and smiled as she followed the rhythm of my heart to calm herself.
I wiped her damp cheeks with my hands, melting when she sniffed, her chest jerking every so often through the sobs she’d set free. Seeing I had her attention, I said, “I won’t take the apology, because there’s nothing to apologize for. You told me that the past no longer matters. That it’s these moments that are important now.” I steeled my emotions, to say, “Our final adventure. Me, giving you chest-bursting kisses to complete your jar. And you … you just being you. Loving me. Me loving you. For infinity…” I trailed off.
I stared intently and patiently into Poppy’s eyes, smiling wide when she added, “Forever always.”
I closed my eyes, knowing I’d broken through her pain. Then when my eyes opened, Poppy giggled hoarsely.
“There she is.” I pressed one kiss onto each of the apples of her cheeks.
“Here I am,” she echoed, “so completely in love with you.”
Poppy lifted her head and kissed me. When she lay back in the seat, her eyes closed, called by sleep. I watched her for a second, before moving to shut the door. Just as the door closed, I caught Poppy whispering, “Kiss four hundred and thirty-four, with my Rune at the beach … when his love came home.”
I could see through the window that Poppy had already drifted to sleep. Her cheeks were red from crying but, even in sleep, her lips were tilted upward, giving the appearance of a smile.
I wasn’t sure how someone so perfect even existed.
Moving around to the hood of the car, I pulled my smokes out of the back pocket of my jeans and struck the lighter. I inhaled a much-needed drag. I closed my eyes as the hit of nicotine calmed me down.
I opened my eyes and stared at the sunset. The sun was fading on the horizon, flashes of orange and pink in its wake. The beach was almost empty but for the old couple I had seen before.
Only this time when I watched them, still so in love after all these years, I didn’t let myself feel grief. As I glanced back at Poppy sleeping in the car, I felt a … happiness. Me. I felt happy. I let myself feel happy even through all this hurt. Because … here I am … so completely in love with you…
She loved me.
Poppymin. My girl. She loved me.
“That’s enough,” I said to the wind. “That’s enough for right now.”
Throwing the smoke’s butt to the ground, I quietly slid into the driver’s seat and turned the key. The engine sprang to life and I drove away from the beach, sure we’d be here again.
And if we didn’t, like Poppy said, we’d had this moment. We had this memory. She had her kiss.
And I had her love.
*
When I pulled into her driveway, dusk had fallen, the stars beginning to wake. Poppy had slept all the way home, her light, rhythmic breathing a comforting sound as I drove us down the dark roads toward home.
Putting the car in park, I got out and walked around to her side. I opened the door as quietly as I could, undoing the seatbelt and scooping Poppy into my arms.
She felt as if she weighed nothing as she instinctively curled into my chest, her warm breath drifting over my neck. I walked to her door. As I reached the top step, the front door opened. Mr. Litchfield was standing in the hallway.
I continued forward and he moved out of my way, allowing me to carry Poppy to her bedroom. I saw Poppy’s mama and sisters sitting in the living room, watching TV.
Her mama got to her feet. “Is she okay?” she whispered.
I nodded. “She’s just tired.”
Mrs. Litchfield leaned forward and kissed Poppy’s forehead. “Sleep tight, baby,” she whispered. My chest tightened at the sight, then she nodded for me to take Poppy to her room.