Chapter 47
Ninety-eight days, thirty-six minutes, twenty-two seconds.
That’s how long it’s been since Daisy’s been out of my life. Or rather, how many days it’s been since I made the painful decision to walk away from her. There hasn’t been a single second of any of that I don’t regret. I should’ve stayed after that night. Should’ve fought harder for the relationship, but I was so angry. And hurt. She told me she couldn’t love me, and hearing the confirmation I’d been terrified to acknowledge caused any other reason for our fight to fly out the window. I no longer cared about it, about the conversation with my mom. Why continue trying with somebody who can’t love me back?
Regardless of that, I can’t help feeling guilty. I did everything I promised Daisy I wouldn’t do. I left her when I told her I wouldn’t. And worse, after our fight time sleeping together. It’s one of the biggest reasons why I’ve spent these past few months in agony, grabbing bottles to numb some of the pain, hanging in my house listening to the songs that remind me of her. She hurt me, and I’m still angry about it, but I’d never be able to forgive myself for sleeping with somebody as vulnerable as her, and leaving the next day without a goodbye.
A soft knock rapts against my door, causing my gaze to shift from the window to the person standing in the doorway. Apprehension fills her face, her lips turning down just a fraction. It makes my chest squeeze, knowing how worried she’s been since the night I called her and told her Daisy and I were done. Ever since, she has since been checking in throughout the day more at work, texting or calling me every night, which admittedly is a little excessive, but once Brooke is concerned or worried, she stops for nothing.
“How you doing?” she asks softly, stepping in and closing the door behind her. She saunters over to the chair across from my desk and sits down like she’s done every day since that night around this time of day. I angle my body in the chair, folding my arms across my chest and meeting her gaze.
“You don’t have to keep checking in on me, you know that right?” I say. “It was a bad night, but I’m fine.”
Her brows pinch together slightly, her gaze roaming my face as if trying to detect the lie. She’s a lawyer, and a damn good one at that, so there’s no point in lying to her. Could I be doing better? Sure, yeah. But I’m doing the best I can given the circumstances. My heart feels empty and most days it sucks getting out of bed, but this is what happens when you break up with somebody. Things change, and it takes a while for our bodies to get used to that person no longer being in our lives. I’im doing the best I can right now, and will only get better with time.
I hope.
“I’m worried,” she admits finally, dainty shoulders dropping in the slightest. “That was one of the scariest nights of my life, Tanner. That call—“ she chokes out, tears already brimming in her eyes as her teeth sink into her lower lip.
We don’t talk about that night often. It was a few days after I called her about the change in my relationship status. I had too much to drink and called both her and Declan separately, drunk out of my mind, saying stuff I had no place saying. It was a hard time, and I felt isolated, miserable. And more importantly, I wanted the pain in my chest to subside. I hadn’t only lost the girl I was in love with, but I lost somebody I was slowly considering my best friend. It sounds dramatic as I think about it now, while I’m in a much better mental space, but Declan reminded me recently that men are allowed to feel hard emotions and experience low moments, too.
In those moments, I didn’t want to live anymore. I felt beyond guilty for taking advantage of Daisy, I was angry and hurt about our fight, and wanted everything to stop. So I drank. And drank. And drank.
And now I’m sober.
Brooklyn glances away quickly, blinking furiously before smoothing her features and leveling her voice. “I need to know you’re okay.”
My face softens. “I’m okay, Brooke. Some days are harder than others, but I’m doing okay.”
She opens her mouth to respond when my office door flies open. Jaylen, the assistant head of IT, stands in the doorway with wide eyes and a frown on his face, shifting uncomfortably on two feet. He’s a nerdy-looking kid with pale skin, thick-rimmed glasses, and a nearly buzzed hair, but one of the nicest dudes I’ve ever met.
“What’s up, Jaylen?” I say, raising my eyebrows. “Everything okay?”
“I–” his eyes dart toward Brooklyn, now looking over her shoulder, before turning his focus back on me. “I wanted you to know that we’re still working to get the website back up. Sam and—“
My eyebrows bunch together, leaning forward to reach for my computer mouse, shaking the screen. “The website’s down?”
From my peripheral, I see Jaylen’s eyes widen to the point of saucers. He’s one of the few still scared of me since my early days of firing people, but since business has improved significantly since then, I’m in the market to hire a few more people for the IT department.
“I mean, yeah, it’s been down for an hour—“
My eyes widen and I whip my head to him. “An hour?! Why has it been down for that long?”
Jaylen shifts uncomfortably, wiping his hands on his pants. “I–I don’t know, sir. I got the message pinged to my phone—“
I face my computer, typing in our website name and sure as shit, it’s down. The blood rushes to my ears at a rapid speed because we can’t afford to have our website down for longer than thirty minutes, at most. We’ve pretty much rebuilt it from the ground up and is still our biggest revenue stream. I stand from my desk with Brooklyn joining.
“Who is responsible for this?” I ask more sternly than intended, buttoning my suit coat and rounding the corner of my desk. Jaylen swallows thickly, shaking his head.
“I—I don’t know,” Jaylen stammers. “I just wanted to tell you that Sam Alberdeen and Daisy Adams—“
My footsteps halt. Jaylen continues talking, but I can no longer hear him as blood pumps through my ears, a slow rise thrumming to the pulsepoint in my neck at the mere mention of her name. The base of my spine tingles with both sadness and awareness that we’re in the same building together for the first time in months, my heart squeezing tight in my chest. Brooklyn’s hand rests against my arm, causing me to snap out of my stupor.
“We’ll go down there and check it out,” Brooklyn says kindly. “Thank you for letting us know, Jaylen.”
He blinks as if shocked he isn’t getting fired today, turning on his heel and scurrying away. Brooklyn looks at me with such wariness in her eyes, a softening sadness I’m starting to hate seeing on her face. “I can go—“
“It’ll be fine,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m not going to talk to her.”
Brooklyn stares at me hesitantly, and I sigh. “Brooke,” I say, angling my body to look at her. “I need you to trust me. I love you more than you know, but I am fine.”
“I know you’ll be fine, Tan,“ she says softly. “But right now, you aren’t, and you haven’t been. I’m allowed to be worried.”
“You are,” I agree, nodding. “But breakups are bound to happen. And besides,” I say, stepping towards the door, looking over my shoulder at her. “This isn’t the first breakup I’ve been through. It’s no different.”
“But it is different, Tan,” Brooklyn says. “It’s so much different.”
I arch a brow, not understanding in the slightest what she’s talking about. “How?”
“Because you love Daisy.”
My brows furrow. “I loved Yasmin, too.”
She smiles sadly. “I know you did. But whatever you had—have with Daisy, is different. Better. You—“ she shakes her head. “That’s your person. That’s your forever. You don’t just love Daisy, you’re in love with her.”
I stare at my sister longer than necessary, trying to wrap my head around it. I’d known the month we broke up I loved her. I didn’t need to tell her, or anybody of that fact, it just was what it was. Daisy was my girl, her heart was mine, and because we couldn’t communicate, we broke up. I couldn’t give her the love she deserved if she couldn’t vocalize her wants and needs to me. Both of us deserve the respect of the other person to get our needs met, and unfortunately, we couldn’t get on the same page.
I shrug, starting to walk out the door because I don’t want to sit and acknowledge these feelings any longer. “Yeah, well. Can’t do much about that, now.”
Brooklyn follows, walking down the hall with me at my pace. One of the things I love about my lawyer sister is her ability to keep up. I like walking fast, and so does she—there’s something that gives off a sense of urgency I like. So we walk together silently, rounding hallways until we’re in the IT and Design department.
I hear her before I see her, smell her honeyed apples and vanilla scent and slow my pace. When we round the corner, Daisy is hunched over, an arm outstretched on Sam’s desk while the other rests on her hip, intently focused on the screen. Her laptop sits next to his, both of them in hushed conversation as she points to his computer, angling her head to look at him with furrowed brows. He shares the same concentration, nodding and typing furiously on his computer as she bobs her head between both screens. The new girl, Penelope, whom Daisy recently hired, is chewing her nails nervously as her eyes dart around, widening upon seeing my sister and me in the doorway. She whispers something to the two at work, and Sam looks over his shoulder, eyes narrowed until they land on me before turning around. Daisy, however, doesn’t look, and for some reason, I desperately need her to. Feel it aching in every bone and fiber of my being that I need her to look, but she only waves her hand away at whatever the new girl is whispering and begins typing on her computer.
Brooklyn and I watch intently, neither one of us making a move. If Daisy knows I’m here, she doesn’t react, but every time she turns her body to say something to the new girl, I can see her shoulders tense like she’s acutely aware of my presence, although she doesn’t look. It’s when she stands to her full height I find myself frowning, her frame smaller than normal.
“Has she lost weight?” I ask out loud, concern thickening my voice. Brooklyn doesn’t say anything in response, but I know she notices it, too. Daisy’s shoulders are smaller, her shirt not so baggy that it’s alarming but enough for me to notice. My girl is curvy, always been toned, but now she looks unhealthy, and for a brief moment in time, I want to pull her into my arms and ask if she’s okay. A wave of sadness washes over me, and I clear my throat, about to talk to Brooke when a raspier voice speaks up.
“Oh, thank fucking fuck,” Daisy says, pressing a palm to her forehead as Sam leans back in his chair and blows out a breath, resting his folded hands atop his head. The new girl looks between them nervously.
“Did we do it?”
Daisy turns her head, and for a split second, my heart stops because I think she’s going to look at me, but she doesn’t. The smile on her face doesn’t meet her eyes entirely, but she nods once. “We did,” she replies. “And now, you and I are going to head into my office so I can show you why you should never do that again.” The girl nods quickly, gathering her things as Daisy puts a hand on Sam’s shoulder. Some look is passed between them before he rests his cheek on her hand, lifting it when the new girl is ready to follow Daisy. I stare after them, that small part of me hoping Daisy will turn around just for a split second, but she never does. The girls step into the office, and Daisy closes the door, and suddenly, I’m empty all over again.
Brooklyn’s hand finds my arm, squeezing in reassurance. “Come on,” she urges. I pull my focus from the door, eyes meeting Sam’s, who glares. I promised him once he could hurt me if I hurt her, and I need to stick true to that. I already broke one promise, and I won’t break another.
“Gimme a sec,” I say to Brooke, not breaking my gaze from Sam’s. “I have to settle something.”
“I’ll be here,” she says as I walk forward. Sam lazily stands and closes his laptop, starting to shove it in his tote bag. I don’t know why I do it, but I sit on the corner of the open desk space everybody is huddled around, and I swear I can still smell the apples from Daisy’s perfume.
He stops shoving his stuff in his bag, cocks a hip, and eyes me up and down disapprovingly. I bite back my smile, completely understanding how and why he and Daisy are friends. And gratitude flows through me, knowing somebody completely loves her enough to defend her even when she isn’t around.
“What do you want?” he drawls, more irritated than angry as he slings the bag over his shoulder.
Now that I’m sitting here, I’m not sure what I wanted. I don’t want his seal of approval for my choices, and I know he’d defend her before hearing my side.
“That’s not true,” Sam says. I blink, not realizing I said that outloud. “I’m playing team neutral in this situation.”
“You are?”
He eyes me like I’m an idiot. “Yeah, I am. She sucks at being vulnerable, you suck at making your expectations clear…so as far as I’m concerned, you both are at fault.”
I furrow my brows. “How didn’t I make my expectations clear?”
Sam scoffs now, slinging the bag over his shoulder. “You wanted her to ‘try,’ but what does that mean? Is ‘trying’ talking everyday? Hanging out? Being exclusive? What did your expectations look like? Because as far as I’m concerned, they were unclear.”
“But they weren’t,” I argue, finding myself already becoming frustrated. “I told her communication was important in our relationship, and that I wouldn’t go through another without it.”
Sam considers this for a moment.
“If I were dating you,” he says, eyeing me up and down “and trust me, I wouldn’t because you aren’t my type—“
I nod. “Noted.”
“And you knew damn well that I hadn’t been in a relationship in years, had significant abandonment issues, and you told me to ‘try?’” Sam shakes his head. “How is she supposed to know?”
“By talking to me,” I say, as if that’s the most obvious answer.
Sam sighs, obviously over the conversation. “Look. I’m not saying she’s not at fault here, but…” he shakes his head. “It seems like all of this was a whole shit ton of miscommunication filled with anxiety and fuck-ups. And the one thing I hate more than anything, is miscommunication. I hate it in books, I hate it when my friends do it, and I don’t want to be involved.”
I frown, the weight in my chest lifting, for some odd reason.
Sam rests a hand on his hip, impatience filling his face. “So then, what do you want?”
I open my mouth, closing it again. I’m not sure why I ask, but I need to know. “Is she okay?” My voice is soft, only wanting him to hear the words and not the scattered people around the space, and a flicker of sadness fills Sam’s eyes as he lifts his gaze to her door.
“I think you know the answer to that.”
I furrow my brows together, wishing in some capacity he’d at least tell me that she was okay. We didn’t end on the best terms, but it’s not wrong of me to want to make sure she doesn’t feel the same way that I do. More than anything, I’d hope she finally starting moving on. I stand from my spot on the desk, rolling my lips into my mouth. There’s no point to argue with him, and he isn’t the person I want to explain myself to, so I settle. “Yeah, I suppose I do. Will you keep an eye on her, anyway?”
At the request Sam’s eyes widen in surprise, but he nods regardless.
“You know I will.”
I start walking over to Brooklyn when he speaks up again. “She really loved you, you know?”
I pause, turning around to look at him. The understanding in his eyes, the openness as he says, “It may not have been in the way that worked for you, but she loved you more than I’ve ever seen her love anybody.”
My heart clenches in my chest, but more than that, the anger rises. “If she really loved me,” I say, “then she would’ve been able to fight for us in the same way that I did. Or, at the very least—“ I say over Sam’s protests. “She’d be willing to accept her accountability in where we went wrong. It takes two people to be in a relationship, and I was the only one willing to try.”
I turn around before he can say anything, and walk back down the hall until I’m isolated in my office, away from everybody.