“You think this is funny?” snaps Sam.
“Well, no,” I say, shocked by his tone. “I mean, I’m really sorry. Obviously. But it was a mistake—”
“What does it matter whether it was a mistake or not?” He grabs the phone from me. “It’s a headache, and it’s the last thing I need on my plate—”
“Wait a minute!” I lift a hand. “I don’t understand. Why is it on your plate? Why is it your problem? It was me who sent the email, not you.”
“Believe me.” He gives me a savage look. “It’ll somehow end up being my problem.”
OK, this makes no sense. Why will it be his problem? And why is he so irate? I know I shouldn’t have sent that email, but neither should Willow have sent him ninety-five-million nutty rants. Why is he taking her side?
“Look.” I try to sound calm. “I’ll send her an email and apologize. But I think you’re overreacting. She’s not your girlfriend anymore. This isn’t anything to do with you.”
He isn’t even looking at me. He’s typing on his phone. Is he typing to Willow?
“You’re not over her, are you?” I feel a raw hurt as the truth hits me. Why didn’t I realize this before? “You’re not over Willow.”
“Of course I am.” He frowns impatiently.
“You’re not! If you were over her you wouldn’t care about this email. You’d think it served her right. You’d think it was funny. You’d take my side.” My voice is trembling, and I have a dreadful feeling that my cheeks are turning pink.
Sam looks baffled. “Poppy, why are you so upset?”
“Because … because—” I break off, breathing hard.
Because of reasons I could never tell him. Reasons I can’t even admit to myself. My stomach is churning with humiliation. Who was I kidding ?
“Because … you weren’t honest!” The words burst from me at last. “You gave me all this rubbish about ‘It’s over and Willow should understand that.’ How can she understand anything if you react like this? You’re acting as if she’s still a major part of your life and you’re still responsible for her. And that tells me you’re not over her.”
“This is all absolute bullshit.” He looks livid.
“So why not tell her to stop pestering you? Why not finish it once and for all and get closure? Is it because you don’t want closure, Sam?” My voice rises in agitation. “Do you enjoy your weirdo, standoff relationship?”
Now Sam is breathing hard too. “You have no right to comment on something you understand nothing about—”
“Oh, I’m sorry!” I give a sarcastic little laugh. “You’re right. I don’t even begin to understand you two. Maybe you’ll get back together, and I hope you’ll be very happy.”
“Poppy, for Christ’s sake—”
“What?” I put my cup down with a small bang, spilling coffee over the pile of our back-and-forth texts. “Oh, I’ve ruined them now. Sorry. But I guess they don’t have anything important in them, so it doesn’t matter.”
“ What? ’ Sam looks as though he’s having trouble keeping up. “Poppy, can we sit down calmly and just … regroup?“
I don’t think I’m capable of calm. I feel erratic and out of control. All sorts of deep dark feelings are coming to the surface. I hadn’t fully admitted my hopes to myself. I hadn’t realized quite how much I’d assumed …
Anyway. I’ve been a deluded fool and I need to get out of here as quickly as possible.
“Sorry.” I take a deep breath and somehow muster a smile. “Sorry. I’m just a bit stressed. With the wedding and everything. It’s fine. Look, thanks for lending me the phone. It was nice knowing you, and I hope you’ll be very happy. With Willow or without.” I grab my bag, my hands still shaky. “So, er … hope everything goes well with Sir Nicholas, and I’ll look out for the news stories… . Don’t worry, I’ll see myself out… .” I can barely meet his eyes as I head to the door.
Sam looks utterly baffled. “Poppy, don“t go like that. Please.”
“I’m not going like anything!” I say brightly. “Really. I’ve got things to do. I’ve got a wedding to cancel, people to give minor heart attacks to—”
“Wait. Poppy.” Sam’s voice stops me, and I turn around. “I just want to say … thanks.”
His dark eyes meet mine, and for a moment my prickly, defensive shell is pierced.
