And this was definitely a party. There were balloons, and streamers, and-
"Is that a cake?" Poppy moved closer, her mouth already watering as she took in the towering chocolate layers.
"I called Summer and had her whip one up, emergency delivery." Her aunt gave her a hug. "We'll be sorry to see you go."
"I'll just be a few hours away!" Poppy protested, but Ellie from book group gave her a look.
"You know it doesn't work like that. You stop writing, you don't call . . ." She mimed wiping away tears.
Poppy laughed. "I'll put you guys in the acknowledgements of my new book, how about that?"
"Deal!"
She was ushered to the bar, and soon plied with food and drink-on the house. There was music and laughter, and as Poppy looked around, she was struck by just how quickly this town had come to feel like home.
"What's wrong?" Mackenzie asked, nudging her gently.
"Nothing. Just thinking . . . I've lived in New York for years now, and I don't think I could tell you the name of anyone living on my block. Aside from the guy at the coffee shop," she added.
Mackenzie laughed. "It does have its charm," she agreed, looking around. "We don't do this for everyone though. You're family."
Poppy had to swallow. "You're going to make me cry!" she protested. "And it's way too early for that."
The doors swung open, and her head turned. She couldn't help it, she'd been checking new arrivals all night, wondering if he would show.
"Still no word?" Mackenzie asked quietly.
Poppy shook her head. "It's just as well," she said, trying to convince herself. "I don't even know what I'd say to him if he turned up now."
"That he's been an ass, but you love him, and you'll give him one last chance to make it right?"
Mackenzie looked optimistic, and Poppy knew she was just hoping for the best, but it still hurt her to think of even laying eyes on Cooper again. She turned to the bar and flagged down Riley. "We're going to need some shots," she declared. "Tequila."
He whistled. "You don't play around."
"It's a party, isn't it?" Poppy forced a smile. "I may as well go out with a bang."
Two shots later, and she was beginning to regret her reckless streak. Riley had brought out the karaoke machine, and any other time, Poppy would have been hiding in the back. But somehow with that pesky tequila warm in her blood, it seemed like a good idea to take center stage for a song with Mackenzie and Ellie.
"One way, or another," she sang, happily out of tune. It was an easy audience, at least: clapping along and politely ignoring just how tone-deaf her warbling was. Poppy swayed in time with the beat, just about ready to launch into the final chorus, when the pub doors opened again, and this time-God, this time, finally-it was Cooper walking in.
The song died on her lips.
How did he do this to her, every time? Just the sight of those blue eyes sent her spinning, from clear across the room. She fumbled, barely miming along as Ellie and Mackenzie finished the song, all the while feeling his gaze on her. Inscrutable. Remote. Or was that a hint of regret she spied in their depths?
No, she was reading too much into it. He probably only stopped by to say an awkward goodbye and pretend like nothing had ever happened between them.
Poppy's heart clenched at the thought. She needed another shot of tequila.
The moment the music cut, she headed for the bar and collapsed on a stool. "Another round, please," she told Riley, pointing to her glass, but instead of pouring, he fetched her a slice of cake.
"I'm cutting you off," he said, and passed her a fork.
"I'm not drunk." Poppy frowned, but she still took a bite. Summer's cake was always too delicious to resist.
"I know," Riley smiled. "But I think you're going to want to be sober for this." He nodded behind her, and Poppy swiveled around to look.
Cooper was taking his place at the front of the room, a microphone in his hand.
Cooper. Doing karaoke.
What?
"Just so you know." Riley leaned in. "That man hates the spotlight. So if he's doing this now, there's a damn good reason for it." He winked and wandered away, leaving Poppy with her heart in her throat as the music started.
Elvis.
He wasn't . . . He couldn't be . . .
But he was. As the familiar chords struck up, Cooper cleared his throat, lifted the mic to his lips, and began to sing.
To her.
"Maybe I didn't treat you, quite as good as I should have . . ."
Poppy was struck dumb. His voice was deep and rich, and he found her there across the bar, his gaze locked on hers as he sang. The world seemed to fade away around them. Every word, every note-all of them straight from his heart to hers.