Epilogue
EPILOGUE
Beckett
June
I jog up the stairs and survey my handiwork from our bedroom window then jog back down and make a few minor adjustments to my artistic display before checking the time.
Daisy should be home any minute now.
A few months back, she bought an art gallery and has been busy getting everything ready for the grand opening. In addition to art and photography exhibitions, Daisy wanted to find a way to use art as therapy so there’s a designated space that will be used as an art therapy studio. She named the studio and the garden after my mom, as well as the scholarship fund she set up.
I made a large contribution as did Grayson, but all the credit goes to Daisy who has been working tirelessly to bring her vision and her dreams to life.
On the terrace, I uncork the bottle of Daisy Maja rosé with a watercolor floral label—we’ve renamed most of our wines, and after much debate, agreed on the design and the story on the back of each bottle—and stash the wine in the ice bucket next to the bowl of strawberries. I picked all the ripest ones especially for Daisy.
Now that I’m a vineyard manager, I grow all her favorite fruits and vegetables.
Come to think of it, just about every damn thing I do is for Daisy. But I’m not even mad about it.
I step back and take inventory, checking that everything is ready to go.
Charcuterie board. Check.
Playlist. Check.
A perfect sunset. Check.
Daisies galore. Check.
Sweaty palms. Check. Check. Check.
What the fuck is taking her so long? I open the app on my phone just as she pulls into the driveway in my dad’s old truck. Daisy refuses to let me buy her a new car so I got a full restoration job done on the pickup, and she always drives with the windows down, the breeze blowing through her hair, and music blasting.
I stride down the hallway, past framed photos Daisy has taken over the years. Her body of work and her talent never fails to astound me. She has a unique talent for breathing magic into the everyday, seemingly mundane things. Not only through her art but in her life, too.
When she walks through the front door, I’m waiting for her, ready to sweep her off her feet, but frown when I see she’s on the phone. “Your grandmother,” she mouths.
I groan and scrub my hand down my face.
Leave it to my grandmother to foil my plans. Daisy talks to her more than I do. Ever since we celebrated Christmas together, they’ve had long phone conversations that sometimes last an hour or more .
A bit excessive, if you ask me.
What the fuck is there to say that requires an hour on the phone?
“Of course, you’re staying with us,” Daisy says, flashing me a big smile and patting my arm like she’s trying to console me. “We love having you. I’ll get your room ready for you. Oh! I crushed the lavender just like you said, and it smells divine. I’ll put some in your room. You’ll sleep like a baby.”
Give me patience. It sounds like this conversation is just getting started.
I twirl my hand in the air, signaling for her to wrap up the call. Preferably right the fuck now.
In typical Daisy style, she completely ignores me and continues talking about a recipe for zucchini, my grandmother’s yoga sessions and upcoming trip to Tulum, and God knows what else as she saunters down the hallway, phone to her ear.
When she reaches the French doors, I wrap my arms around her and pull her against me, ensuring her back is to the vineyard. “Call her back tomorrow,” I say under my breath.
She rolls her eyes but she’s smiling. “Your grandson is getting impatient, so I need to go. But I’ll talk to you soon.” She smirks. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep him in line.”
When Daisy finally cuts the call and pockets her phone, I push her against the wall and cage her in my arms. “It’s cute the way you think you can keep me in line.” My hands roam down her sides and land on her hips.
She’s dressed in baggy jeans that ride low on her hips and a T-shirt that looks like it came from the kids’ department.
Locks of blonde hair have come loose from the messy bun and frame her makeup-free face.
She has never looked more beautiful to me.
I kiss her on the lips, and she lets out a little sigh as her arms wrap around my neck and her tongue slides into my mouth.
She tastes like summertime and sunshine and my sweetest, wildest dreams.
She tastes like home.
“Love you,” she murmurs, pulling back to look at my face. “And I do keep you in line. You’re so much better behaved than you were a year ago.”
“Not always.” I squeeze her ass and she laughs as I pull her flush against me, my teeth grazing the line of her jaw and my dick swelling in my jeans.
When am I not hard for Daisy?
Let’s face it, fucking her out of my system was destined to fail. I still want her all the goddamn time.
It takes every ounce of my self-restraint to stop myself from pushing down her jeans and burying myself inside of her.
We have all night for that, so I take a step back and she tilts her head, a smile on her lips.
“You know what today is?”
I play dumb. “Wednesday.”
“Our one-year anniversary.”
I wrap a lock of her hair around my finger and tug before releasing it. “Pretty sure that’s not until December.”
“Today is still an important date so I think we should celebrate.” She gives me a flirtatious smile. “I’ll even save you a dance.”
“Luckily, I’m one step ahead of you, princess.” I take her hand and usher her out the doors to the terrace. “And what do you mean, you’ll save me a dance? All your dances are for me,” I growl.
The laughter dies in her throat and her eyes widen as she takes in the sight before her.
“Oh my god. What the… Where did you get all those daisies? There must be hundreds.”
“A thousand. Give or take.” Not that I actually counted. I don’t have that kind of time. But there are a shitload of daisies with pure white petals and sunshine yellow centers.
“ A thousand daisies ?” she asks incredulously.
“Probably more.” I shrug, waiting for her to figure out the message. The number of daisies is irrelevant. They’re potted daises arranged to spell out two words. That is what’s relevant. But Daisy is taking her sweet time working it out. In fact, she’s taking so long, I’m starting to sweat.
Finally, she turns to me, her mouth parted. “Does that—are you…” She covers her mouth with her hand, her eyes glossy as I drop down on one knee and pop open the velvet box in my hand.
If the daisies spelling out MARRY ME? weren’t a big enough clue, the pink diamond halo ring nestled in satin will certainly give it away.
“I don’t think I understood the meaning of love until you crashed into my life and showed me how it’s done. If not for you, I’d still be a miserable bastard. I’m still a bastard but now I’m a happy one.”
She laughs through the tears streaming down her cheeks—I hope like fuck they’re happy tears because I forge on, spilling my guts and offering up my heart.
“I can’t promise that I’ll always be perfect. I still have asshole tendencies. I’m still a cynic. I still think Zelda is a fraud and you can’t convince me otherwise. But you make me want to be a better man, and for you, I would do anything. I promise I won’t lie or keep you in the dark. I promise that you will always be my equal partner in all things, in all ways. And if you’ll let me, I will devote my entire life to ensuring that you always feel loved and respected and cherished.”
I take the ring from the box and hold it out to her. “Will you marry me, Daisy?”
After a long moment of stunned silence, she drops to her knees, throws her arms around my neck and kisses me.
I can taste the salt on her lips from her tears.
“Yes! Yes, I’ll marry you.”
“Thank fuck.” I slide the ring onto her finger but Daisy barely even glances at it. She doesn’t give a shit about material possessions.
“I love you,” she says, taking my face in her hands. “And I plan on keeping you on your toes and holding you to your promises for a long, long time to come.”
My chest tightens. Just the thought of being without Daisy is physically painful.
“You’d sure as hell better,” I say gruffly.
I get it now. I understand why a man would give up anything and everything just to have the woman they love by their side. If she asked me to, I would give her every cent I’ve ever earned and not even blink an eye.
I pull her to her feet, change the music on my phone, and we slow dance to a sad, romantic song on the terrace as the last of the sun dips into the horizon.
I have no doubt it was a beautiful sunset, but when you have Daisy Larsson in your arms, everything else pales in comparison.
Daisy
Dear Daisy,
If you’re reading this, it’s been a year since you set foot on the vineyard to live and work with my son. This will be my final letter.
When I met you for lunch in NYC, you were just as smart, beautiful, and vibrant as I remember. After just a short time in your company, I was confident that I was doing the right thing.
If anyone can show my son what love looks like, I have faith that it’s you, Daisy Maja.
In turn, I hope Beckett keeps you safe, and that he protects and cherishes you. I know you’re an independent woman and have been looking after yourself for a long time, but you don’t have to do it all on your own.
If I know my son like I think I do (or used to, anyway), I’m guessing he stepped up to the plate and lightened your load. Sometimes you don’t even realize how heavy it is until someone comes along and lifts it off your shoulders. And suddenly you can breathe easier.
Maybe I’m getting sentimental in my old age, and maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but I always thought you and Beckett belonged together. Living in the house you’ve always loved. Looking out over the vineyard that was always meant to be my son’s. Raising a bunch of kids to pass it on to.
If my hunch is right, and you have indeed ended up together, lift a glass and drink to love—the only thing in this world worth fighting for.
Wishing you all the love and happiness your heart can hold,
Robert
P.S. If by some chance, my son didn’t get his head out of his ass and claim you as his own, he’s a goddamn idiot.
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