Page 80 of Wicked Love

“Clara,” I say flatly, regretting my decision to come here.

“You know the drill,” she says, pointing at the floor.

I sigh, scrubbing a hand over my face. The small crowd in the shop watches, some pulling out their phones to record me.

“It better be an extra-large drink,” I tell Clara.

She nods happily. “Coming right up.”

I start the Gangnam Style dance and as I’m doing the horseback rider, Penn appears out of nowhere and slides on the floor between my feet, pretending to be the horse. The shop erupts into cheers and applause and when Penn stands up, we do the shuffle steps together. When we’re done, Penn holds his hand up, beaming, and I slap it, not beaming.

“That was awesome,” Penn says, laughing.

“We shouldn’t be encouraging this,” I say dryly, giving Clara a look.

She just laughs at me, handing me a large Americano. “I knew you had it in you, Bowie Fox.”

I grumble nonsense and then a tangle of long, blonde haircatches my eye. Poppy’s smile is huge until she sees that I’ve spotted her and she turns to the cart that Clara keeps with napkins and a variety of creamers. She fusses with the napkins and something about the way her shoulders hunch tells me she’s had her own night of contemplation.

“Morning,” I say, sliding into the seat closest to the cart.

She freezes then turns, clutching a handful of sugar packets like they’re lifelines. “Oh! Hey!”

I raise an eyebrow. “You okay?”

“Fine! Totally fine,” she says too quickly. She stuffs the packets back into the bowl with too much force.

Before I can press further, she startles at the bell jangling and knocks into the cart, sending stir sticks and napkins flying. One of the creamers turns over and glugs down the side of the cart. I stand instinctively to help, but Poppy is already in full panic mode, scrambling to clean up the milk and grabbing a fistful of stirrers.

“Why am I so clumsy?” she groans. “Like I don’t have enough to worry about, and now—” she stops mid-sentence.

“Now what?”

She glances around, her face flushing as she sees all the attention she’s getting. Clara comes over with a mop and Poppy tries to take it from her.

“Honey, don’t worry about this at all. Happens at least once a day. I need someone to do a built-in here instead of this rickety old thing.”

“I like this rickety old thing.” Poppy sniffs.

Clara smiles.

But when I look at Poppy again, I’m shocked to see tears rolling down her face.

I lean in. “Poppy, what’s got you so upset? It’s really all right.”

She exhales sharply and straightens, looking up at me. “I’m pregnant with your baby!” she says.

The coffee shop goes silent and I freeze, the words like stones pelting me nonstop.

“What?” I whisper.

She turns a shade of red I didn’t think was possible. “Oh my God,” she whispers, burying her face in her hands.

“Did I just hear that right?” Clara asks in delight.

“I didn’t mean to just…blurt it out like that,” Poppy says, looking panicked.

I stand there, my brain scrambling to catch up. The coffee shop is unnervingly quiet and it’s then that I feel Penn’s hand on my shoulder. It steadies me.

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