Chapter 18

The spa smelled like eucalyptus and something softer underneath, lavender, maybe. Calm. Intentional. Suffocating.

Poppi stood just inside the entrance, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, like she could physically hold herself together if she just squeezed hard enough. Everything about this place whispered relax, but her pulse was loud, fast, uncooperative.

“Surprise!” Fred had said an hour earlier, beaming like he’d just handed them the best gift in the world. “A four-hour couples spa experience, well, not couples, but you know what I mean. You two work too hard. Thought you could bond a little.”

Bond.

Poppi nearly laughed now just thinking about it.

Madden stood beside her at the check-in counter, jaw tight, shoulders rigid. He hadn’t said much since they got here. Not to her. Not to anyone. Just a nod when the receptionist handed them plush white robes like they were stepping into some alternate reality where things weren’t complicated and wrong and impossible.

“Ready?” the attendant asked brightly.

Poppi and Madden both answered at the exact same time.

“No.”

“Yes.”

They both froze. The attendant smiled politely, clearly used to awkward guests, and gestured them forward anyway.

“Follow me.”

The waiting room was worse. Dim lighting. Soft music. Too quiet.

Too close.

They sat side by side on a low couch, knees almost touching, both staring straight ahead like there was something incredibly interesting about the water feature trickling against the far wall.

Poppi shifted first, subtly inching away.

Madden noticed.

“You don’t have to act like I’m contagious,” he muttered, low enough that only she could hear.

Her head snapped toward him. “I’m not.”

“You moved.”

“Because you’re sitting too close,” she said.

“It’s a couch, Poppi.”

“Then sit differently.”

He let out a quiet, humorless laugh, dragging a hand down his face. “Right. Yeah. I’ll just… change the laws of physics real quick.”

Silence fell again, heavier this time.

Thicker.

They both knew it wasn’t about the couch.

The first treatment was side-by-side massages.

Of course it was.

Poppi lay face down on the table, her cheek pressed into the cradle, heart thudding as she listened to the faint sounds of movement from Madden’s table just a few feet away. The soft glide of oil. The shift of sheets.

She could feel him there.

Even without looking.

Especially without looking.

“This is insane,” his voice came, low, strained.

The massage therapist shushed him gently. “Try to relax.”

He let out a breath that was almost a laugh. “Yeah. That’s not happening.”

Poppi squeezed her eyes shut.

“Then don’t talk,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

A pause.

Then…

“I can’t not talk when you’re right there.”

Her fingers curled into the sheet beneath her.

“Then talk about something else.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Anything that isn’t…this.”

Another pause.

Longer.

More dangerous.

“What is this, Poppi?” he asked quietly.

The therapist’s hands kept moving, but Poppi felt like everything in the room had stopped.

“Don’t,” she said.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

“Because I don’t think pretending is working anymore.”

Her breath hitched, just slightly, but enough.

“Pretending is the only thing keeping this from blowing up everything,” she snapped under her breath.

He shifted on the table, the paper beneath him crinkling.

“You think I don’t know that?”

“Then act like it.”

“I am acting like it!” His voice tightened, then dropped again when the therapist paused. “I haven’t touched you. I haven’t said anything. I’ve been doing exactly what I’m supposed to do. Exactly what you want.”

Poppi swallowed hard.

“Yeah,” she said softly. “And it’s still not enough.”

That landed.

She felt it.

The way the air changed.

“Not enough for who?” he asked.

Her throat burned.

“For me.”

Silence.

Real silence this time.

Not avoidance.

Not tension.

Truth.

By the time they moved to the private soaking room…warm water, candles, a space clearly meant for peace…everything inside Poppi felt like it was splintering.

She sat at the edge of the pool, feet in the water, robe still wrapped tightly around her.

Madden stood across the room, staring at the surface like it might give him answers.

Neither moved for a long time.

Then…

“We can’t do this,” she said.

He didn’t look up. “I know.”

“Like… at all.”

“I know, Poppi.”