Chapter 41
Ifeel like an ass.
Correction. I am an ass.
I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the conversation, or lack thereof, with Daisy on Monday at my place. I was still too in my head, overthinking every possible scenario about why she and I would or wouldn’t work out, and honestly, I’m pissed off at my parents for getting into my head like that. Honestly, not even just them, but at myself for allowing them to get in my head. I normally don’t care about other people’s opinions in my relationship to an extent. Of course, I want people to like the woman I’m dating, but if they don’t, and I do, that’s on them to figure out. I shouldn’t have let my parents’ opinion of Daisy have any sort of sway in our relationship, and I’m ashamed that I did.
I haven’t seen Daisy since she came over Monday, and have barely talked to her, too. She usually works from home on Tuesdays and Wednesdays since I approved it when I first started at the company, and even though she and I barely see each other in the office anyway, it felt different this time around. Heavier, like her presence, was missing entirely. We texted briefly throughout these few days, just the quick, ‘Good morning,’ ‘How was your day,’ ‘Good night,’ type bullshit, but it hasn’t been enough. It’s never enough when I’m not with her, but I needed the space, and I’m sure she did, too.
Which is why now, on Thursday, I’m finally walking into her apartment complex after she buzzed me up.
I don’t need anybody trying to convince me that whatever this is between Daisy and me is anything less than real. I’m not trying to save her, and I thought long and hard about it since that night. I’m scared I’ll lose her, and I’d hate myself if I didn’t get the chance to fully love her in the way she deserved because I had my head up my ass and allowed somebody else’s opinion to dictate how I felt about her.
When I reach her floor, only sort of out of breath, I inhale deeply and exhale, curling my hand into a fist and knocking three times on the door. Today is not only Thanksgiving, but it’s her birthday, and I want to give her the best one I can give her until the actual surprise planned next weekend. Feet scuffle on the other side of the door, her deadbolt clanging as she takes it off the chain and opens the door, her eyes wide with surprise as she notes the flowers in my hand. I’m too busy roving over her appearance—a pink gloss smeared over her lips that paints an incredible picture of what else would look good there, a cream-colored sweater dress, some of her curls pinned half-up while the rest flows down her back.
“Are these for me?” she asks, surprised. Leaning forward, I grab her elbow and press a kiss to her cheek, not wanting to ruin her makeup.
“Happy birthday, baby,” I say lowly, handing her the bouquet of red and white roses and daisies. The grin splitting across her face makes my heart thud in my chest, and she reaches up to press her lips against mine in appreciation before stepping aside and gesturing to me to come in. As I walk in, I smack my lips together, the stickiness of her lip gloss on my mouth. She giggles. “Sorry, I should’ve thought about that.” She walks in front of me and into the kitchen, grabbing a vase from the bottom cabinet of her sink and filling it with water. “I’ll only be a few more minutes. I think I’m going to change quick.”
“Take your time,” I say, gesturing to her flowers. “I’ll take care of these,” I say, leaning down to press a kiss against her mouth. “Go.”
“Okay,” she grins, hurrying off down the hall. “Gimme, like, five, ten more minutes.””All good, sweetheart,” I chuckle, glancing around until I find a pair of scissors and slowly chop the ends from the flowers.
She’s in a good mood, and so am I. There’s no point in rehashing something that maybe we needed some time to think over separately. I hope she knows I’m fully in this with her, regardless of how long it takes for her to open up. What we have going is nice because it allows me to set the pace that works best for me, too. I enjoy getting to know her like this, and even more than that, I like getting to know me, too. I’m a different man than I was when I was in the relationship with Yasmin, and I want to prove my worth to Daisy. She deserves nothing but the best in her relationships, and I want to always give that to her no matter the circumstances. I’m hoping today, though, isn’t too overwhelming for her. My family can be a lot—loud and outgoing, and she seems more reserved about her time. I don’t know how she normally feels about the holidays and being around a ton of family because she normally is alone, so I’m hoping today is enjoyable for her, at the bare minimum.
After I set up her floral arrangement, I carry it over into the living room and set it on her perch. The light cascades in nicely, not too bright or direct, so I’m assuming the flowers will thrive there. From there, I take one glance around the space, how seemingly like her it is, and head down the hall towards the humming of her voice. I don’t recognize what she’s listening to but follow it anyway until it leads me to her bathroom. My mouth waters upon seeing her in a plaid pencil skirt that hugs her curves generously, knee-high brown boots that showcase toned thighs, and a burnt orange sweater. Her hair is still styled the same, but fuck. She looks beautiful. I lean against the doorframe and fold my arms over my chest, taking in every inch of her as she checks herself out from the side.
“I’m trying to decide if I like this,” she mutters, fixing her sweater numerous times in different ways, tucking it further in and tucking it out until she’s satisfied.
“I like it,” I say, my voice thick and my cock twitching in my pants. “I like it a lot.”
She glances over her shoulder warily. “This one? Really?”
I hum, taking a careful step forward and tugging her arm gently until she’s fully turned and in my arms. My hands cup either side of her face, her eyes widening a fraction as I lean down and kiss her. Her lip gloss is freshly applied, and I can tell because its strawberry sweetness is back on my lips, but I don’t care. I don’t care about any of that, so long she doesn’t stop kissing me.
“Tanner,” she breathes, putting the palms of her hands on my chest. “You’re going to ruin my makeup.”
My lips trace the curve of her jaw, and she sighs, tilting her head for access. “You’re right,” I say lowly. “I probably am.”
“So maybe you should stop…”
I lift my head. “Do you want me to?”
“No,” she says almost immediately. I grin, kissing her again before pulling away. “You’re probably right, though, even if I don’t want you to be. We should get going anyway. We’ve got a bit of a drive.”
She raises her eyebrows. “How long?”
“Thirty minutes.”
“In Boston traffic? On Thanksgiving?” she asks. I nod.
“Then let’s go,” she says, trying to walk past me again. I grab her, and confusion swirls along her face when I find her mouth again.
“You look beautiful today, birthday girl.”
She melts into me, her eyes softening and her smile widening. “Thank you,” she whispers, kissing me at the same time I dip down to do the same. My arm wraps around her waist, pressing her impossibly close as my heart pounds in my chest and makes its way into my eardrums. This is everything I’ve ever wanted. Everything I thought I wanted once before, but never got until this right now, in this moment. A beautiful girl in my arms, smiling at me like I’ve hung the stars in the night sky when the truth is, she’s the one who did that for me. She continues showing up in the ways I need her to, and it doesn’t matter what anybody else thinks so long it’s her and I against it all.
“Lo—“ I clamp my mouth shut when it starts slipping out, her eyes enlarging and mouth gaping. I clear my throat and take a step back, the heat rising on my neck. I’m praying with everything in me she doesn’t ask what I just said because I’m not sure I’d be able to answer her truthfully anyway without spooking her, so I gesture towards the living room. “Ready to go?”
Her entire body is frozen in place, the question forming in her eyes as she glances from the living room back to me. For some reason, that look makes every uneasy feeling known to man curl into my sternum and squeeze, a knife jabbing, taunting, in my chest as I carefully watch her. The storm clouds in her eyes are gone before I know it, a strained smile on her face as she finds my gaze again. Without a doubt, she knew what I was going to say, and now I’m mentally kicking myself for almost giving away the other conclusion I came to over the past few days.
“Let’s go,” she says, throat raspier as she steps out of my hold and walks past me. I can only follow and hope I didn’t just royally fuck this entire thing up.