Chapter Twenty-Four
Daisy, Now
“What’s new at the hotel?” Oona asks.
“Um, well…” I chew on some sautéed green beans, holding up a finger. She loves to question me right when I’ve put food in my mouth. “Not much. The pop-up is the focus at the moment.”
“She’s being modest,” Max says. “Reservations are up, and word is getting out about the exhibit. She was on HSNC, too.”
“We saw,” Oona says. “You seemed nervous.”
I nod and take another bite, because I’d rather not rehash that experience.
“Oh! Almost forgot.” Oona gets up and rummages through her purse on the entryway table.
She returns, offering a piece of paper to me.
“This is for you. I talked to Stacey at the front desk. She said you sometimes have a mobile massage therapist come to The Mirage for clients. I heard good things through my network as well. Thought you could treat yourself for once.”
“This is…this is so nice.” I look at my dad, moved by the gesture. “I can’t remember the last time I got a massage.”
“The idea was all Oona’s,” Dad says.
“It’s just because. I figured after your accident, it might ease some tension. And with the museum in a couple weeks, this gives you a chance to relax.”
“Thank you.” I fold the gift certificate, touched that Oona went through the trouble of researching and buying something like this for me. She used to run a massage studio, so the gift has a personal touch to it. I guess we’re at the point where we buy just-because presents for each other.
My dad pats her hand, and she shoots him a megawatt smile. If my dad were going to find love again, I guess he could have found it with someone worse than Oona.
Over dinner, she barrages Max with questions. She asks him about the pop-up, about Ireland, about his favorite artists, and he happily goes down any rabbit hole her probing inquiries take him. I can already tell Oona’s obsessed with him.
The meal wraps up, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Usually, when I hang out with my dad and Oona, I get annoyed or say something unintentionally bratty, and I feel like a jerk afterwards. Maybe it’s because Max is here to act as a buffer, or maybe I’m starting to like Oona.
She stands by my dad, wrapping an arm around him, and they kiss. Seeing them affectionate with each other still throws me—I don’t remember my dad being this lovey-dovey with my mom all the time. But he’s happy, and that’s what’s important.
“Should I do it, or you?” Oona asks him in a volume I almost can’t hear over the smooth jazz from the speakers. My dad nods, urging her on. “As you know, we’ve been planning the wedding, and your father and I wanted to ask you something.”
My stomach turns. I hoped I would get out of tonight easy, but now she’s going to ask me to be their officiant, or maybe a bridesmaid.
The thought had crossed my mind that they’d want me involved in the big day, but with everything at work, I haven’t had the time to reflect on how I really feel about that.
“We’ve talked a lot about the day and what we’re envisioning. Something small, intimate. Close friends and family only. And Harlow is where we met, so it feels like the right place to have the wedding.”
“I’ve got some contacts, you know,” I say. “Caterers, coordinators. Officiants.”
Oona looks at my dad, then back at me. “Oh, that would be marvelous.”
Damn. She’s gunning for maid of honor duties.
“But before any of that, we have to decide where to have the ceremony and reception. And we both agree there is one place that makes sense. If you’re okay with it.
” Oona seems like she’s holding her breath, and I’ve never seen her so nervous.
The affectionate arm she has wrapped around my dad might be more for her to stay steady on her feet.
“We were thinking,” she goes on, “The Mirage would be perfect.”
“Oh,” I squeak out like a deflating tire. The request blindsides me like walking full-speed into a closed door, but I add, “Wow.”
“Yes, wow. It’s…” Oona nods, then laughs. “You can say no. But—”
“It was my idea,” my dad butts in, rubbing salt in my wound. “Thought it might be a nice way to have her there in spirit.”
Forget salt. This is a bottle of bleach.
“And the place is…well, it’s yours now,” he says. “I’m proud of what you’ve done with it.”
Under the table, Max cups my thigh and squeezes. His eyes have homed in on me. I don’t know if he’s just checking in, ready to go to war for me, or both. His face becomes blurry, but I refuse to let myself lose it here.
“Of course,” I say, fighting back tears with a plastered-on smile.
“Really?” Oona chirps.
“Yes. I’ll have to check the dates, but…absolutely. Family discount,” I manage, struggling to breathe. “I’m happy for you.”
Oona comes over and wraps me in a hug, and my dad joins. They’re both overjoyed—so grateful, beyond excited—and so deeply in love.
I’m hollow as we say goodbye. Max offers to drive, and it’s not until we pull into the driveway of The Mirage that I notice the tears streaming down my face.
I go inside the casita and crawl into bed, and Max shows up thirty seconds later, glass of water in hand.
He pats the comforter to entice Freddie to curl up with me, and he kneels by the side of the mattress, his palm firm on my arm, his thumb rubbing in circles.
“Do you wanna talk?” Max asks.
“No.” To myself more than to Max, I say, “I miss her, that’s all.”
“What do you miss most about her?”
I sniffle. “Everything.”
Max watches me, his eyes sad. “There was this one fight with my parents in high school. College talk, I think. I came over here because, well, I wanted to vent to you, but you were sleeping over at Gwen’s.
” He brushes some hair off my face, and I ignore the urge to kiss the pads of his fingertips.
“Your mom ordered Hidden Moon, we sat on the couch, and she listened to me complain. She always treated me like I was someone worth listening to.”
I attempt a smile, because Max has given me the gift of knowing my mother a little better, even now. “She never told me about that.”
“Probably didn’t want you to worry.”
“It felt good to be loved by her, didn’t it?
” Freddie rolls onto his belly, and I stroke his fur, which instantly makes him purr.
“Whenever she saw me, no matter when we last saw each other, whatever we talked about before, or if we’d had a fight…
she looked like the happiest woman in the world, just to see me.
That sounds kind of selfish, I suppose—that what I miss most is how I felt because of her. ”
“That’s the whole point. That’s what people remember. How you make them feel. And she made people feel really good.”
I nuzzle my cheek into the pillow, attempting to dry my face.
“Your dad and Oona, they…” Max blows some air out through his lips. “They don’t understand what they’re asking. But you focused on them and their happiness.”
“I am happy for them,” I whisper, continuing to pet Freddie as a distraction. “But I’m confused. He can continue on without her and get a new wife, but I can’t go out and get a new mom. I wouldn’t want to even if I could.”
“Oh, Daze.” Max leans towards me, and for a moment, I think he’s going to kiss me. He does, but not on the lips—on my forehead. And if I could, I would cry all over again at the sweetness of his simple gesture.
“My parents really hung on for all those years, you know? On and off, but always married. It’s crazy that he’s ready to replace her and try harder with the whole marriage thing.”
“I guarantee you that’s not it. Hey.” Max’s hand slinks under the covers, his warm palm cupping my waist, as he rocks me until I look at him. “There’s no way. No matter who he loves, she’ll always be there. You Johnson women are unforgettable. Trust me.”
I know he’s talking about my mom, but my chest somersaults.
“We’re stubborn, too,” I say, meeting his eyes as a smile pulls at the corner of my mouth. “And hard to work with.”
“It’s part of your charm.”
I laugh, play-shoving his shoulder. As I examine the lines of his jaw, a sobering thought hits me.
“Do you think…” My heart’s pounding in my ears. “Maybe my parents were just two people who made their relationship more complicated than it needed to be.”
“What do you mean?”
“They met in college. They knew each other for years before they dated. What if they were better off as friends? Did they make a mess of things?”
He swallows, and I hold my breath, waiting for his response. He has to know the real question I’m asking. Did we make a mess of things?
“No.” He shakes his head, his eyes trained on mine. Max tugs me closer, mere inches from his face, and he plants another one of those forehead kisses on me.
“Would you sleep here tonight?” I close my eyelids, not wanting to see a rejection reflected at me. “Not for…it’s just, it’s nice, having you here.”
“Of course.”
Max lifts the covers and slides under them next to me, big spoon to my little one.
He’s a heater, and I want to collapse into the comfort of him.
His arm drapes over me, tugging me closer so my back rests against the plane of his chest, my head tucked under his chin.
I burrow closer, and he kisses the top of my head once more as I fall into a heavy sleep.