Cocktail: Pussy Cat
Poppy knew she had to come clean. She’d botched her own life enough; no way would she add to Sara’s woes. Her sister needed to hear the truth about Divorce Diva Daily from her. As for the money, she hoped that prenup was watertight and Sara got the cash she was owed.
Taking a deep breath, she shook out her arms like a prizefighter about to enter the ring and stuck her head around Sara’s door. “It’s only me.”
Sara glanced up from her smartphone and smiled, a genuinely wide grin for the first time in months. “Hey, you, come on in.” She spontaneously hugged Poppy, rather than being a limpid recipient, and Poppy’s surprise increased.
“You look great.”
“I feel great.” Sara threw her arms wide and spun around, leaving Poppy gobsmacked.
She hadn’t seen her sister this happy in a year. Great news, considering it should ease the blow when she divulged the truth.
As Sara gestured her toward the sofa to take a seat, Poppy got a good look at her sister. Freshly washed and blow-dried shiny hair, hint of mascara and lip-gloss, skinny jeans, and her favorite peacock sweater. She looked incredibly healthy and it gave Poppy hope. Maybe Sara had finally shrugged off the past.
Now if only Poppy could do the same.
“I have to tell you something and you’re not going to like it.”
Rather than Sara’s smile disappearing, it widened. “Really? Because nothing can spoil my good mood today.”
“This will.”
Scrounging up her courage, Poppy decided blurting it out would work better than dodging the truth in an attempt to soften the blow. “That Divorce Diva Daily website you mentioned when I visited last month? The one you dissed? I’m running it. Thought it’d be a great idea to complement Party Hard, seeing as divorce parties are so hot right now, but then you said you hated it so I’ve been keeping it anonymous, and it’s earned heaps, but it’s time you knew—”
“Hey, slow down. Take a breath.” Rather than shouting as Poppy had anticipated, Sara was taking the news surprisingly well. “Maybe I was too hasty. I’ve been in a pretty bad place, so anything involving the D-word would’ve probably set me off.”
Wow, Poppy mouthed, and Sara laughed.
“You’ve been amazingly supportive, but I think I’m ready to come back to work.”
“Really? That’s fantastic.”
“And you know what? The first party I’m going to plan will be my divorce.”
Poppy squealed and reached across to hug Sara. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Feeling’s entirely mutual.”
Poppy didn’t understand the cryptic twinkle in her sister’s astute gaze but hey, she wouldn’t question it, not when this had gone way better than anticipated.
“How’s your hubby?”
“Good.” The lie instantly tumbled from her lips. Enough blunt truths for one day.
“When do I get to meet him?”
Hell.
“As soon as you’re out of here.” Poppy stood, eager to escape before lightning struck her dead on the spot. “Gotta dash. Loads to do.”
“Thanks for stopping by.” Sara hugged her again but this time she held on longer than normal. “I’m so happy for you.”
Great, not telling the truth about the disastrous ending to her marriage with Beck had given her sister another false impression she’d have to tear down at a later date.
Forcing a bright smile, Poppy waved and made a swift exit, completely baffled by her sister’s knowing chuckles following her out the door.
…
Beck paced the outer office of Party Hard, swiping at stray streamers and glaring at rogue balloons.
With its bright and bouncy theme, from purple 21st birthday balloons to “happy retirement” banners edged in gold, the place’s perkiness was enough to give a guy a headache.
He didn’t go for frills. He liked no-nonsense, upfront, in-your-face honesty.
Which was why he hoped Poppy welcomed him when she found him here. Because he had a dose of honesty she had to hear.
Beck wrinkled his nose at an offending Halloween witch mask dangling in front of his face, swiping it out of the way when the door opened with an annoying bell tinkle.
The hairs on the nape of his neck snapped to attention as the soft summer breeze brought her scent in before she entered. Light. Floral. Delicious. He turned slowly, his gut a bunch of nerves. She breezed in, a vision in a red and white gingham summer dress, held up by the flimsiest spaghetti straps begging to be tugged down.
His gaze automatically dipped to her shoes out of habit and he wasn’t disappointed. Crimson. Shiny. Towering.
A smile played about his lips as he stepped forward into her line of vision.