17. Weston
17
Weston
I lower the needle onto the record, watching as Daisy goes onto the deck with her wine. The opening chords of The Royal Scam echo through the living room, but I can’t enjoy them without her.
I thought getting away from Daisy would be good for me, so I went to work remotely from a coffee shop in town for a few days. I could have gone to the city, but I’d promised she could stay and continue her vacation, and I didn’t want to leave her alone at the house. It’s not her fault I can’t keep my head on straight.
But not seeing her was the opposite of good. I couldn’t focus on work. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t stop thinking about the way she looked in that bikini, the way her soft lips felt against my rough skin when she kissed me. It took me entirely by surprise, and I didn’t have time to hide my reaction. All I could do was run, because if I hadn’t done that, I would have hauled her against me and kissed her back, and not in the chaste way she did.
It’s not only the physical attraction I feel for her, although that’s intense enough on its own; it’s the way she bared her heart to me, sharing her pain, the way she lit up with that camera in her hand like someone had switched on a light in her soul. I thought she’d been a ray of sunshine before, but this was next level. Her radiance, her sheer joy, was blinding. She was in my arms, spinning through the air before I even knew what I was doing. How could I not celebrate with her? Her exuberance was contagious.
And after that story about her friend’s parents, I knew how hard it was for her to get to that point. I went through my own setbacks too, like the fact that it took me a year to even come back to the beach house without Lydia, or that I couldn’t swim for months because she and I used to do that together. But we can’t let our grief hold us back. We can’t hide from it. We have to face it in order to heal, in order to return to who we’re meant to be, and to know I played even a tiny part in helping Daisy do that… my chest puffs with pride at the thought.
I shouldn’t have come home with dinner tonight. I shouldn’t have sat beside her on the sofa to watch TV while we ate, like an old married couple. But the past two days have been unbearable. I knew she was here, alone, and my willpower ran out. I wanted to bring her food, to hear her voice, to see her. I know I shouldn’t want that and I’m flooded with guilt every second I’m around her, thinking of what my son would say.
And Lydia… God. I can’t even imagine what she’d think. Not because I have feelings for someone new—I know she’d want me to be happy again—but of all the people I could have chosen, it’s Jesse’s ex.
She wasn’t always Jesse’s ex , a little voice in my head says. You’ve known her far longer than he has.
But that doesn’t matter, because she’s his ex now , and that fact will never change.
Through the glass door, I watch Daisy sitting in the chair, head back, gazing at the darkening sky. I should go to my room, shut the door, and forget she’s in the house.
But something compels me out there, and I drop into the chair beside her with my wineglass in hand. I’ve had more to drink than usual, and the alcohol sends a warm buzz through my veins. It dulls the guilt, so I can let myself be beside her on our last night here.
She doesn’t say anything as I join her, just gazes up at the stars, lost in thought. The ocean is a comforting roar in the distance, and I tilt my head back too, thinking of Lydia. She used to love sitting out here, naming the constellations she could never see in the city. My chest burns, wishing she could be here to help me figure everything out. That’s who I miss the most: my best friend. The woman who understood me better than anyone.
“You’re not wearing your wedding ring,” Daisy whispers beside me, so quiet I think I’ve imagined it. But when I glance over, she motions to my left hand, and I notice I’m absently rubbing the spot. I let out a long, shaky breath.
“It was time,” I murmur. I rub the spot again, the groove worn into my skin from the band that was there for over two decades, trying to summon the positivity I felt a few nights ago when I removed it. “I’ll always love Lydia,” I say, contemplating the best way to phrase it. “But… recently I’ve felt a shift inside. This seemed like the right thing to do.”
Daisy gazes at me with a sad smile. “What brought that on?”
“You.” The word is out of my mouth before I even realize what I’ve said, but I decide to leave it, because it’s true, and I’m not sure I have the energy to lie. “I was in a dark place when I met you, Daisy, and you were…” I huff a quiet laugh, thinking of how bubbly she was during those bleak months when my world felt empty and hopeless. “You were this shining light of goodness, going out of your way to make me smile with your wonderful coffee creations. I’m sure you do that for everyone, but—”
“I don’t.”
Those two words are enough to make my heart trip, but I don’t dare meet her gaze. I don’t dare let myself consider what that could mean.
“Well, those few moments with you every morning brought hope back into my life. They reminded me that things could be good again.” I smile, savoring the feeling of warmth as I take another gulp of my wine. “And lately, we’ve…” Ahhh, shit. Stop . I set my wine down with a shake of my head, aware I’m coming very close to crossing a line I won’t be able to uncross. “Never mind,” I mumble.
There’s a long silence, during which I can feel the heat of Daisy’s gaze on the side of my face.
“Lately what?” she asks at last. I try to ignore the breathless note in her voice, but I can’t. And I need to be very careful with what I say next.
“Lately…” I shrug, pretending it’s no big deal. “It’s been nice spending more time with you.” I can say that, right? That’s not crossing a line. It’s perfectly appropriate.
But when I let myself glance at Daisy, it feels anything but appropriate. Her eyes are dark saucers, lit with fire as they pierce mine. The air grows thick with tension as we stare at each other, a thousand unsaid words filling the space between us. A heavy ache starts low in my pelvis, my cock stirring in my shorts, and when she runs her tongue across her bottom lip, I have to shift in my seat.
I think back to the way I felt when I found out she was dating Jess and the realization she’d never been interested in me, even though I had the nagging sense she was. Watching her squirm restlessly on the chair, watching her eyes fasten on my lips and her breasts shudder with her uneven breathing, I know I was right the first time. She feels this thing between us too, and I’m beginning to think she always has. Even though she was dating Jess.
Jess .
My son’s name rings through my head, and I yank my gaze away from Daisy, soberness hitting me like a cold bucket of water. It doesn’t matter if Daisy feels this. None of it matters. And I need to make that very clear.
“I’m sorry things didn’t work out with you and Jess,” I begin, trying to segue gently into what I need to say. “And I’m sorry for what he did.”
“Me too,” she says quietly. “But… I wasn’t a very good girlfriend. I have feelings for someone else. I have for a while, and I think…” She hesitates, and I should stop her, but my breath freezes in my lungs as I wait for her next words. “I think he has feelings for me.”
Oof. She’s not making this easy.
I release a pained, unsteady breath as I look at her. She’s so beautiful, her dark hair falling in soft waves over her bare, freckled shoulders, her expression so open and vulnerable that all I want to do is pull her close.
It’s excruciating.
“He does,” I murmur, despite the rational part of my brain screaming at me to shut up . “But he loves his son and doesn’t want to hurt him. Even if said son behaved like a total ass.”
Her gaze falls to her wineglass, and she gives a tiny, nearly imperceptible nod. “I understand.”
Of course she does. Of course she’s being perfectly reasonable. She’s young, but she’s the most mature twenty-five-year-old I’ve met. It only makes her more attractive.
I take one last lingering look at her, then force myself to my feet, hardening my resolve. Tomorrow, our vacation ends. We’ll drive back to the city, and it might be time for me to find a new coffee shop.