‘Nooooo. No. Uh-uh. This won’t do. This isn’t going to work.’ He pushed the chair back, and began to pace the width of the room, trying to get his thoughts in order.
‘What do you mean it won’t work? It has to. We’ve signed the lease. We’ve committed.’ Poppy tapped the end of the pen on the notebook. ‘I’ve seen some unicorn-themed clothing that I was planning to sell, but maybe we could find tea lovers’ apparel too? Cake lovers’ apparel? There must be some out there we could import, or we could create our own?’
Ben’s stomach swirled. Tea and cake-loving apparel? Where was the sophistication? The class? This wasn’t what he had in mind, not by a long shot. It was like Poppy thought that by sharing a space with him they were joining forces, going into business together. An inseparable team. Just like the old days. But this wasn’t the old days. They’d been separated for years now. Gone down different paths. And, if he were one hundred per cent honest with himself, while it was one thing to share a lease, he didn’t want to share his shop. Not with someone who could so easily pack up and pick up in the middle of the night without saying a word.
Fear froze his frenetic pacing. And what if she did that anyway? Even if their shops were separate, he’d be left with one surly teen, one disengaged one, and half a shop’s worth of lease.
Ben swallowed hard, pushing the lump that was threatening to choke him, to drown his dreams, out of the way. ‘Poppy. Ground rules. We need to set some.’
‘Ground rules?’ Poppy’s head angled, her brows drawing together. ‘What kind?’
‘First of all. You are not to leave in the middle of the night without warning.’
Poppy huffed and rolled her eyes. ‘I did it once. Years ago. I’m a grown woman, I’m not going to do that again. I wouldn’t do it to you. There’s too much riding on this. I get that.’
‘Which leads me to the next rule. We have to keep our businesses separate. We can share a space, share the lease, but under no circumstances is any of your… paraphernalia to enter my side of the shop. “Steep” is not to look like a fairy chundered in it. There will be no glitter. No sparkle. No tackiness. No unicorns. My side of the shop—’ he placed his hand on his chest to emphasise the point ‘—is to be a place of refinement. Where people who appreciate good tea will come and discover new flavours and broaden their tea horizons, all while enjoying delicious morsels.’
Poppy rolled her eyes. ‘How did you and I ever end up friends? You’re such a stick in the mud. And who says “morsels” anymore? Food, Ben. They’ll be coming to eat your food.’ Poppy placed her hands on her hips. ‘Honestly, I can’t believe you’re so anti-unicorn. I knew I should’ve set up a cat-themed shop instead. Cat cafes are big business. I went to one in New Zealand and there was something so centring about having a cat purring on your lap while you were sipping a flat white. Although when one decided my braid was a plaything that wasn’t so fun. Who knew getting a kitten out of your hair could be so difficult?’ Poppy’s braid swayed as she shook her head. ‘We could do it, you know. Adopt some cats and kittens. A gourmet tea shop with kittens running amuck sounds pretty fab.’
Ben forced himself not to rise to the bait. Poppy had always known how to press his buttons – had been amused by how he toed the line compared to her freedom-loving ways. She, more than anyone, knew he wouldn’t have time for the frivolity of kittens and cats skittering through a store, let alone time for cleaning up after them and maintaining their health.
‘What? You’re not going to tell me I’m being ridiculous?’ Poppy laughed, the sound brightening the room, as it had always done. ‘I was expecting you to give me that look of derision that I bet had people quailing in court.’
‘I wasn’t in court, Poppy. You know I worked in property law.’ Ben sat back down and took a long drink of his wine.
‘Well, you could have been. You could have changed directions, for all I knew. It’s not like you’ve bothered replying to the emails I’ve sent in the past year or so. Not with any news of substance. “I’m fine” does not an email make.’ Poppy crossed her arms and tucked her hands in her armpits.
Guilt swarmed in Ben’s gut. That was Poppy’s signature move when she was hurt, sad, upset or wanting to shut someone out. And he’d been the cause of it. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t reply all that much, or all that well. Life got busy. You know how things are. Or maybe you don’t… I don’t know.’
‘Of course you don’t know. You didn’t ask. Even when we were emailing on a sort-of regular basis you never asked questions about my life.’ Poppy sunk her top teeth into her bottom lip, then released them. ‘You probably thought my life was one great adventure. Swanning from country to country. Chasing summer. Sunbathing. Swimming. Being frivolous and free while you spent hours poring over papers and whatnot. The thing is, I worked, Ben. The whole time. Yes, I saw sights. Yes, I had a good time. But I also worked my arse off. It wasn’t one long holiday.’ Poppy’s jaw jutted out, just as it always did when she was holding back – trying to keep her emotions in check, trying to be brave. ‘Just because I choose to smile instead of scowl, choose to laugh instead of lift my lip and sneer at the world, it doesn’t mean I don’t have a serious bone in my body. It doesn’t mean that I don’t care.’ Poppy untucked her arms, lifted her chin, and took a deep breath in. ‘Whatever. It doesn’t matter. I’m being an idiot. So, back to business…’ She picked up her pen, lowered her gaze to the page so he couldn’t see how she was feeling, and scrawled two short sentences.
‘No combining space. No combining anything.’
Poppy set the pen down on the paper with a slap. And just like that, Ben was a boy again, and the urge to make Poppy feel better was there. The need to reach out and run his hand down her braided rope of ebony hair. To hold her close. To tell her she was wonderful. She was enough. That despite whatever complicated things were happening in her life, in her head, that they could deal with it together. If she just let him in.
Except she wouldn’t. He was an idiot to think her time away travelling would have changed that. Changed her.
‘I know you didn’t just sunbathe your way round the world. Sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.’
Poppy waved his apology away. ‘I’m fine. Really.’ She looked up, a smile fixed on her face. One that didn’t chase away the shadows in her eyes. ‘If anything, I’m kicking myself. I should have expected this to happen. You’ve always been so paint by numbers. Knowing what you wanted, why you wanted it, and how you were going to get there. You’re the most organised person I know. Heck, I bet even your underwear drawer is colour-coded. Light to dark, from left to right. Or is it alphabetised by brand? Or arranged by occasion? Your day-to-day underwear would be at the top, followed by church underwear, because you’d be too respectful to wear anything threadbare or holey to church.’
‘I haven’t been to church since I moved out of home. I just went because it made Mum happy.’
‘But I bet you still go to St James’ every Christmas and Easter.’ Poppy raised an eyebrow, daring him to deny it.
‘I do. With Mum.’ Ben nodded, not seeing any point in lying. ‘But I don’t have special church underwear.’
‘But I bet you’ve got dating underwear. The good stuff. Fits perfectly. Manly colours. Navy blue. Black. No tacky patterns. Although I did see some unicorn boxers that I could order for you if you wanted to shake things up…’
Ben waved Poppy’s suggestion away. ‘Not in a million years will I wear unicorn boxers. Or unicorn anything. And frankly, Poppy, I’m starting to think you’re far too interested in the contents of my underwear.’ Ben bit down on his tongue. What had he just said? He surely didn’t say ‘contents of my underwear’.
He glanced at Poppy who was doubled over, elbows on knees, her shoulders shaking as airy gasps filled