They had indeed talked themselves into a coma as they jumped into dating each other hardcore. Rick had made a real effort to not only get to know her but to really communicate—all his woes, all his fears, all his sadness about losing Yash. And nothing thrilled her more.
As their relationship developed, they learned how much they had in common. Except for Brussels sprouts. She still hated them, and he still loved them. But she counteracted her disgust of them by eating cans of sardines as they snuggled on her couch at Littleton or his big bed at his house.
Running her hand over his jaw, she giggled. “I like either-or, but you know what I really like?”
He lifted one eyebrow in a teasing arch. “Brussels sprouts?”
“Don’t make me break out a can of sardines, Ricky baby,” she teased back.
“Tell me, Poppy McGuillicuddy, what is it you really like?”
“Your bed. Wow. Where did you get that mattress?”
Wrapping his arm around her waist, he hauled her close, leaving her tingly all over as he laughed. “Know what I like?”
“My ugly dancer feet?”
“You in my bed. Every day, all day.”
“But if I’m in your bed all day, every day, we’ll never get anything done. I have classes to teach now.”
“Have I mentioned how proud I am of you?”
“For actually getting a job that pays me in real money?” she joked, wrapping her arms around his neck.
“For doing what you love. For being so beautiful while you do it.”
Her new job made her so incredibly happy, but more than that, it fulfilled her. Each day when she walked through the doors of Miss Mona’s, she was overwhelmed with purpose. No, it wasn’t a fancy school, where tutus and rhinestone-covered dance costumes were paid for by rich parents.
It was at a community center for low-cost childcare, where the children who needed somewhere to go until their parents picked them up could come and do all sorts of activities, from art to acting to dancing, and she wouldn’t have any other job.
She loved teaching. It wasn’t something she’d ever considered until Rick had suggested it one night, as they ate spaghetti and made googly eyes at one another. She’d taken his suggestion and run with it, landing a job just a week later. The pay wasn’t big, the hours were pretty long, but the payoff was priceless—literally.
Word had gotten back to her via Miss Mona that her class was the most popular and all the kids wanted to dance with Miss Poppy.
Rick, on the other hand, had taken some time off from his company, allowing via delegation his employees to handle the current remaining jobs. He was in the process of some soul-searching about his chosen line of work, and he turned to her often to discuss the plans he had to mix more charity work, like the work he’d done in Africa, with the fancy high-rises he was known for.
He claimed it was in honor of Yash. Yash, who’d been exactly the person Rick always knew, and while he still suffered immense guilt for not believing in his long-trusted friend, he was working his way through his emotions by sharing them with Poppy.
As a result, she was falling madly in love with him. A love so deep, so complete, she could do nothing but thank the fates for bringing them together every night before she went to bed. The best part about that was, Rick was falling in love with her, too.
He just didn’t know it yet—he only suspected. But she did. In her gut, just like she knew what had happened to her was meant to be.
“You know, I saw Arnie this morning just before you picked me up. He said you owe him a game of chess.”
Rick barked a laugh. “That old coot, he creams me every time I even look at a chessboard.”
She loved that everyone was back where they belonged at Littleton—with one exception. Rick was now her landlord, not Mr. Rush.
Mr. Rush, once the spell Avis had put on him was lifted, had decided as much as he loved his tenants and the building his father had owned, he wanted to be free of entanglements and the kind of work that went into being a property owner.
So he’d sold the building to Rick with the promise he’d love it the way Mr. Rush did, and Rick had set about honoring his promise by updating the building with all sorts of amenities—one of them being a doorman named Mortimer, who’d become a favorite with the residents.
He’d given her apartment back to her with the offer of free lodging, but she’d declined and insisted he accept payment each month, knowing full well it wouldn’t be much longer than a year before they were married.
But Poppy McGuillicuddy had hit adulting hard, and even though she’d let go of one dream, she’d found another in Rick, and in the new people in her life she’d come to truly love.
Even Nina, who was the crustiest of her newfound loves, made her smile when she showed up at her doorstep, sweet Carl, Calamity and Charlie—and sometimes Hollis, Marty’s little girl—in hand, inviting her to take a trip to the library or the movies with them.