Chapter 37
Things between Daisy and I are progressing so naturally, and I’m finding myself thinking about her more than I already was. When she isn’t with me, I’m wondering what she’s doing even though all I need to do is shoot her a text and ask, but I don’t. Not because I don’t want to, but because I value her space and time as much as she does mine, and with how frequently we’ve been hanging out lately, I don’t want to bother her.
Last night, I contemplated asking her to spend the night. It’d been late by the time she was ready to go home, both of us caught in a combination of talking, a fair trade in both winning and losing in Mario Kart, and listening to different records of mine.
Although I don’t tell her this, she’s slowly working her way into different pieces of my life. Certain songs remind me of her and cause a smile to instantly split my face when they come on. I rarely sit on “her” side of the couch or use the blanket she stole from my bedroom to curl up in when she’s at my place. Everything with her just seems…content. I don’t know how to explain it, but it feels like she is slowly opening up more and more the longer we spend time together, and I like that. I like that she can be herself because I want her to feel comfortable both around and with me.
My phone vibrates at the same time I pull into my parent’s driveway, and as I slide out of the driver’s seat, I look at the text. I have one from Daisy and another from Naomi.
Daisy:Is it weird if I go out with Naomi today?
Naomi:I’m inviting your girlfriend out today.
I pause my steps, leaning against my car as I type the first message out to Daisy.
Me: Not weird, go have fun. Whatever she says about me isn’t true…unless it’s good things. Those are all true. ;)
And then to Naomi.
Me:Don’t scare her too badly, please. I like her.
Shoving my phone in my pocket without waiting for their responses, I walk the driveway until I’m running up the stairs and then pushing our front door open. No point in knocking or texting them randomly that I’m here; it’s Sunday, and they’re expecting us.
“Hello!” I call out, kicking my shoes off and pushing them into the corner. Mom’s voice carries through the space, a muffled “in here!” as I walk through the doorway.
Mom rounds the corner at the same time Dad emerges from wherever he is when I walk into the living room. Both smile as they take turns hugging me. I don’t care how old I am; I’ll never be too old to hug my parents.
“I’m making beef stew tonight,” Mom says, taking a step back to walk back into the kitchen. “Your dad thought it was too early in the season, but we had our first snowfall, what?” she looks at my dad and then me. “Two days ago? Three?”
“I’m for it,” I say, walking into the kitchen and sitting on the counter. Mom turns around and slaps my knee playfully because she and I both know we’ve had too many conversations about sitting on her counters, but I’ve never been the best listener.
“Your sister is coming late,” Dad says as he follows.
“What’s she doing?” I ask curiously because my sister is better at showing up for these get-togethers than I am.
He shrugs, looking to Mom for guidance, who also shrugs. “She didn’t say. Just said she’d be late.”
Because I’m the annoying brother I am, I pull my phone out of my pocket, swipe past the messages from Daisy and Naomi, both of whom are freaking out about hanging out together, and pull up my sister’s thread.
Me:Hey, did you forget today was Sunday?
It takes her a second, but she replies almost instantly.
Brooke:I’m running late
Me: No shit, Sherlock. I beat you here for once.
Brooke: That’s a surprise. I just got caught in the middle of something.
Me: What?
Brooke:none of your business. See you soon! 3
“She didn’t tell me either,” I say, and my mom snorts, shaking her head as she walks to the fridge to grab a bottle of water. She hands it to me before grabbing another for Dad, and then her. We both mutter our thank yous before she leans against the opposite counter. “Oh, you know your sister.”
I raise an eyebrow and share a look with Dad, who suddenly appears interested in the conversation. “Do you know?”
Mom’s green eyes sparkle mischievously. “‘Course I do. I always know what my children are up to.” She looks at Dad, some shared silent conversation between the both of them before rolling his lips into his mouth disapprovingly, grumbling something under his breath to himself before walking away. I’m assuming it’s not because of the conversation with Mom and me, but maybe something else entirely.
“Is it a boy?” I ask, which causes Dad to even perk up from his spot in the living room.
“Better not be!” He says gruffly as he sits down in his recliner, groaning as he does.
Mom snorts, waving me away. “You and your sister can talk about that when she gets here. I wanted to talk to you about Thanksgiving.”
Perfect segue, I think to myself as I untwist the cap from my bottled water, taking a ginger sip. “Yeah? That’s funny because I wanted to talk to you about it, too.”
At this, Dad gets back up like he can’t decide between wanting to relax, or wanting to be involved in the conversation. Mom and I share a look at his indecision. He pretends to act like the parent who doesn’t care to know about the different things going on in me and Brooke’s lives, yet is unable to help himself when we talk to mom. It’s like he doesn’t want to feel a certain way if he’s left out.
He saunters back into the kitchen, sliding into the chair across the island from us, seemingly more interested in the conversation.
Mom arches a brow, crossing her arms across her chest as she leans against the island. “Oh?”
I hum, nodding. “Yeah, ah. I wanted to see what the possibility was of potentially bringing somebody?”
She watches me for a moment, but it’s not one of those normal circumstances when somebody is trying to get a read on you. When mom watches you, it’s like she’s looking into your soul in hopes you share every deepest, darkest secret with her.
“And by somebody,” Mom asks gently, curiously, “do you mean Daisy?”
Hearing her name makes the smile want to crack on my face, but I bite the inside of my cheek and nod. “Yeah.”
Mom looks over her shoulder to Dad, who seems just as interested and invested in the conversation than what he did prior to a few minutes ago. “Are things serious between you two?” Mom asks after sliding her gaze back to me.
I shrug, trying to act nonchalant. “I’d like to think so, yeah.”
“Is she your girlfriend?” Mom presses. I’m not sure why the sudden questioning makes defensiveness weave through my sternum, but it does. It’s a good question, though. I’ll give her that. Daisy and I haven’t had that conversation, but I’d like to think that after months of doing this with her, we are. Or at least, it would be.
“Yeah,” I say. “She’s hesitant to say it, but she is, yeah.”
Mom frowns. “I don’t want you to be with somebody who is hesitant to be with you.”
“She’s not,” I say, more defensively than intended, a frown forming on my lips. “She’s not hesitant to be with me. We’re taking our time and figuring it out.”
Mom hums, but her features turn down. “I trust you, honey. I just want you to be with somebody that can be on the same page as you, is all.”
“She is,” I say softly, glancing down at my phone as if she’d sent me a text reassuring me that my mom, for once, is wrong. Obviously that doesn’t happen, and I sit in those feelings for a while. I hate feeling like I need to plead my case with my parents, that being with Daisy so far has been everything I’d been hoping for, but I’m not going to explain myself to them. For one, it’s not their business, but two… I simply don’t want to. That conversation is reserved for Daisy and I—nobody else.
“I didn’t realize you two were at a point of being serious,” Dad finally chimes in. I roll my lips into my mouth, nodding. “I didn’t either,” I admit. “It just kind of happened. We’re still taking things slow, but Daisy’s great. She’s kind and considerate, selfless. Dec, Naomi, and Jase love her.”
Mom’s eyebrows rise, surprise flickering across her face. “She met the gang?”
Mom’s called the friend group the gang since we were all young, except for Jase, because he wasn’t around back then. I think it was just for the convenience of it, rather than calling everybody by their names when we were all collectively together.
“Yeah, a few weekends ago. They loved her. She’s actually,” I smile, pulling out my phone to read the unread texts between her and Naomi, “getting ready to hang out with Naomi.”
“Wow,” Mom says. “If Naomi likes her, then Daisy must be good stuff.”
“She is, Mom,” I argue. “I think you’d like her once you met her.”
Mom nods, adjusting her position to look between Dad and me, who remains silent although a thoughtful expression is on his face. “I’m sure I’d like her too, honey,” Mom says. “But it’s not a matter of whether I’ll like her or not. I just don’t want to see you try saving somebody again.”
I frown. “Who did I try to save?””Yasmin,” her reply is instant. I groan, rolling my eyes. “I don’t want to talk about her.”
Mom holds her hands up in surrender. “Okay, we won’t. But the last thing I’d want for you, Tan, is to go through that again. But if you truly think Daisy wouldn’t do that, then I support you. I only want to see you with somebody who can commit to you and give you the same amount of love you’ll give them.”
“Thanks,” I nod. “But I’m not worried about that with Daisy. You’ll see. She is great.”
Mom’s face softens, something like melancholy flickering through it. “You must really like her.”
“Yeah, I do.”
Mom looks at Dad, another silent conversation. Everything is cut short by the front door opening and closing, followed by Brooke’s “Sorry I’m late!” speech. I’m more interested in figuring out where she’s been, anyway, and will do just about anything to get the heat off of me. But still, I can’t help but think about what my mom said—about wanting to save somebody. Is that what I did in my last relationship? I don’t think so, but then again, I was blinded by a lot back then.
I jump off the counter and head towards the living room where my sister is. I’ll worry about the rest later, but one thing’s for sure–the last person I’d ever need to save is Daisy.