Poppy's attitude changed significantly after opening up; he became what I have decided to call Clingy Poppy 2.0. Not that I'm complaining. His newfound affection is sweet, even though it was short-lived. We decided to bring up the wedding, and although I don't do much, it's still a lot for me.
"Would you like this? Or this?" That's all I've been hearing for weeks now, and it's stressful. Poppy doesn't seem too stressed—lucky him—but I am too stressed to care about 2.0.
Everything had been smooth recently. The duke, ever the opportunist, offered to sponsor the wedding. The idea of it was so absurd it was almost laughable, and we quickly dismissed it. Throwing his offer under the carpet felt like a small victory in the midst of the chaos.
