Page 88 of Friends Don't

I grab for her hand and give it a squeeze. I can’t help myself around Poppy. “I guess you could almost say it’s giving you deja-boo.”

My joke lands how I hoped it would, and she croaks out a laugh through her tears. I wanted to do this for Poppy, but I don’t want it to be so overwhelming to her that it makes her sad.

“I hope it’s okay.”

She wipes her eyes. “It’s more than okay. It’s perfect. It’s more than I deserve.”

I shake my head at that. She deserves everything. Doesn’t she see that? Doesn’t she know I’d give her everything if she’d stay?

Before I can respond, she stands up on her tip toes, cups my jaw, and plants a gentle kiss on my cheek.

“Thank you.”

“Anything for you, Boo. Anything at all.”

25

Good for Him

Poppy

“IswearI’mfine.There’s absolutely nothing to worry about,” Noli says.

My facial expression is the definition of skeptical. I can see it in the tiny little thumbnail square at the bottom of my phone. I’m on a video call with Noli.

“I’m serious, Pops. Let’s talk about something other than my personal life for a change.”

I want to argue, but I think better of it. I don’t want to drive Noli away. I roll my shoulders, trying to relax. “What would you like to talk about?”

“How about your personal life!” Noli sounds chipper all of a sudden.

I snort. “Not much to report.”

“Where’s Mack? He’s always close by these days.”

My gaze darts over the opening of the cove, across the bonfire, to where Mack is sitting. He gives me a salute, and I laugh.

I stand and walk around the fire pit, plopping down on the wood log he’s sitting on. “Here he is, in the flesh!”

Noli wags her eyebrows. “Mack, what a surprise!”

She’s being facetious. She and Rose have been insufferable since Mack and I spent the night together in the wheat field. When I didn’t come home, Rose of course demanded all the details. When I gave her an abridged version, leaving out Mack’s admission about Tricia, she filled Noli in, and the two of them haven’t stopped talking about me and Mack ever since. Their efforts only intensified when he made me my flower beds.

I still can’t believe he remembered what I told him at the beginning of the summer about gardening. And not only did he remember, he went and made a special place for me to do something I love. Since Gram died, no one has ever done something this thoughtful for me. I can’t think fully about it because I already feel like my chest is under some sort of crushing force field.

But Noli and Rose have been thinking about it. Our group text has been filled with kissing memes and Marvin Gaye sound bites. My sisters are convinced that Mack is in love with me.

I, as per usual, have been trying to be the voice of reason.

Demurring. Deferring. Downplaying.

Even though a tiny part of me hopes they’re right. I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about Mack. When I’m with him, it’s like someone stripped away all the extra stuff I add to my personality to fit in—or the stuff I try to tone down to fit in—and what’s left is me. The real version.

The thing is, I think Mack is a different version of himself around me too.

I mean, you don’t see the man making ghost jokes on the regular around Cashmere Cove. The goofy side of him—the relaxed, playful side—only comes out on rare occasions. Or I guess since we’ve been spending so much time together, not quite so rare anymore.

Collin mentioned it when I was running through Party in the Park security with him earlier this week. “You’re good for him.”

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