36. Daisy
Chapter 36
Daisy
Bundled in my wearable blanket, plus leggings and a long sleeve T-shirt, fuzzy socks, and slippers, I sit in my front porch chair, legs tucked up to my chest. The cool of the night air swirls around my face, a cold that feels colder because of the lack of humidity in the air.
My neighborhood is older, and quieter, a stretch of homes on a street without lights or sidewalks. I bought it four years ago when I came back to town after graduating from physical therapy school. The world outside my idyllic small town had taught me a few lessons, one of which was that there was no way I could return to living on the St. James farm. My parents would've welcomed me with open arms, but I knew that wasn't the right way for me. I think about that sometimes, how I would've had more time with my mother had I moved back in with them. It's a useless regret, but I wonder if it's played a role in this plan I've made with Duke.
It's an errant thought, one that makes me restless and uncomfortable, so I push it aside and hit 'play' on my phone. I'm listening to a podcast interview with an author who wrote a fiction book based on her marriage to a firefighter who developed a drinking problem, and the roller coaster they went on because of it. She says a lot of things that make me think, but none so much as the moment she mentions true love .
A few weeks ago I would've said that notion was utter bullshit, but now I'm not so sure. Can the path to true love consist of broken roads? According to this woman, yes.
Huh. I've always thought of the path to true love as shiny and pristine, white marble lined with waxy yellow tulips.
It's nearing midnight, the full moon providing me with light, and I've been out here for an hour. It doesn't matter how much longer I need to sit out here, because I'm on a mission. Besides, I'm kind of loving the thrill of lying in wait. At any moment he could pull up, creep up my driveway, and here I am in the shadows, waiting to say some form of boo . I'm actually not sure what I'm going to say when I see him, I figured I'd do it off-the-cuff so it's organic.
He's going to laugh, I know that. What else will he do? Maybe take me in his arms? Give me a bone-crushing hug as his real self? No more Peter being careful around me. He can be Penn now.
The night grows darker, a stretch of clouds blocking the moon, and a hearty yawn momentarily transfigures my face. Popping my AirPods out, I nestle them in their case and toss it on the seat beside me. I take the pillow I brought out here with me and prop it up behind my head, like I'm settling in for a long winter's nap.
I'll rest my eyes for a few minutes while I wait.
"Sunshine?"
The word is a whisper in my mind. There's a gentle shake of my shoulder.
"Sunshine?" The word is closer now, breaking through my sleep.
My eyes fly open. I was on a mission. How dare I fall asleep!
Penn is nearly at eye-level with me, bent on a knee with his hand on my shoulder. His hair flops on his forehead in that exact way I adore, and his eyes are crinkly and cute.
"Why are you out here?" he asks.
"Trying to catch my gift giver," I say, stifling a yawn as I sit up taller. The pillow I'd propped behind my head tumbles to the ground.
"It was me," Penn says, grabbing the pillow and tossing it on the other empty chair.
"I know." I look up at him, backlit by the glow of the full moon. I've known him as Peter, but now oh my gosh it's Penn! Look how tall he is! How big! He's a man now. He has muscles for days and veined forearms and his jaw is chiseled and he grows facial hair and his voice is deep and curls into me and he has tattoos.
Tattoos.
Daisies. For me.
My childhood best friend grew up and never forgot me. He cared so much he inked me on his skin, added me to a place with near-constant visibility.
Penn motions to the empty seat with my pillow lying on it. "Can I sit?"
"That depends," I answer. "Are you going to tell me why you left?" The question has plagued me for years, I can't help but give my truth-seeking mission another attempt.
Penn shakes his head, his gaze genuinely sad. "Sometimes, knowing things makes life worse, Daisy."
I nod, the last of my sleepiness slipping away as I tuck my knees into my chest, wrapping my arms around my legs. I'm insatiably curious still, but I understand what he's saying. Maybe whatever it was that made him leave that he won't share with me, maybe it hurt him as much as it did me.
I motion to the chair and he settles in, sitting back and crossing one ankle over the opposite knee. A very manly posture, one he never did when I knew him before.
It's new to me. All of it. All of him. Some of it's familiar because I knew him as Peter, but it mostly feels like I'm discovering Penn. Honestly, I like what I see. All of it. Every mannerism, every coy smile, every crooked grin, every dubious eyebrow lift. I like it all.
Penn gazes at me, the air thick with possibility. Anticipation. The question of What's next ? hangs between us.
I slice through the heaviness by saying, "Hi, Penn."
He grins impishly. "Hi, Daisy."
Thrill sweeps through me. Jubilation. "It's good to see you again."
A smile breaks onto his face. Relief. "You have no idea how it feels to see you and know you're seeing me ."
"I wish you would've told me from the beginning."
"Me, too, now that I'm looking back on it." He shakes his head slowly back and forth, rubbing the pad of his thumb over his lower lip. "I almost did, that first night at Summerhill. But once I found out you were engaged, it solidified my plan to keep my identity hidden. I figured it was easier for everyone."
"It was a bonehead move."
"Hah!" He palms the back of his neck. "I haven't been called a bonehead in a long time. Probably not since you."
"I don't think I've called anybody a bonehead since you, either."
"I'm…honored."
We share a friendly smile in the muted white swath of moonlight, happiness flickering in our eyes. Old friends delighted to be reunited.
Penn reaches down beside him. "I have another gift for you."
My legs straighten out from under the blanket I'm wearing, meeting the cool night air. I reach out, fingers fluttering. "Ooh, gimme. This has been fun."
Penn presses the gift into my hand with a flourish. "It's the last one. A gift for every birthday I missed." The pearlescent paper shimmers in the light from the moon.
"Did you wrap these yourself?"
He nods, looking proud. "I watched some how-to videos."
"That is unbelievably cute." I tap the top of the box. "May I?"
"Go for it," Penn says, scooting his chair closer.
Cedar and citrus swirls around me. His knee presses against mine, body heat moving through his gray sweats and surrounding my leg. His Adam's apple bobs with a hard swallow. Desire unfurls in my belly, slow and hot. It takes me back to our movie night, to the fire in his gaze.
I pause with my finger under a flap of wrapping paper. I'm nervous to bring up last weekend and the way I basically threw myself at him, but if not now, when? "Penn, when we were at your place last weekend after we watched the movie, and...you know. Did you stop it because of Duke? Or was it something else?"
Penn leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, chin propped on his hand. He's so close, I could stroke his cheek. Fire ignites in his gaze, hot desire plain on his face. "Sunshine, there's no part of me that doesn't want to ravage you. Please understand that."
The things I want to do to you . That's what he'd said, and it's been tormenting me relentlessly since.
He continues. "I know you and Duke have some kind of agreement, which I still need you to explain." He's looking at me, chin still in his hand, his head tilted. I can't believe we're having this conversation, so calm and matter-of-fact. "Daisy, I've never stopped thinking about you. Caring for you. I thought I could come back here and make it out in one piece, but that was foolish, because a piece of me was always with you. I haven't been whole since I was thirteen. Since I was last with you."
Oh, my heart. It's twisting and turning, flipping and cartwheeling.
"Please believe me when I say it has been a unique form of torture to be around you and know you're engaged. In my mind, I have done all manner of delicious and dirty things to you. Touching you, making you see stars, would be a privilege, but I won't do it while another man's ring is on your finger."
I squirm as heat pools low in my belly. I want to take Penn in my house and see what I can do to get him to change his mind.
But I also need to be honest with him, just like he was honest with me.
"It's not real," I whisper in my quietest voice, one that makes Penn scoot his closer, until our knees are touching. "Duke needs to get his dad and the board of Hampton & Co. off his back. And my mom, she's..." My voice trails off. I hate thinking about the eventuality. "She wants to see me walk down the aisle in her wedding dress. It's been her dream since I was a little girl."
Penn reaches for my hand, his fingers threading through mine. "Do you really think she'd want you to marry someone you don't love?"
I've turned the same question over in my mind hundreds of times. And the answer is no, she would not want me to marry somebody I don't love. But she thinks I love Duke. She thinks she's going to leave this world behind, and her little girl will be happily married. It brings her peace to think I found the person I want by my side for the rest of my life, and how can I take that from her?
"It's complicated," I murmur.
"Sounds like it," is all that Penn says in response.
"Thank you for not judging me."
"I would never." He flips my hand over, tracing the lines in my palm. His touch creates a spark that goes flying through my limbs. "It all makes more sense now," he says, catching my gaze. "You and Duke have zero chemistry."
"Not like me and you, Pete." I can't help but tease him.
"Very funny," Penn says, a smile tugging at his mouth. "Open your present."
He drops my hand, and I reach for the box perched in my lap, turning it over to read the tag.
To make you smile.
Happy birthday.
Carefully, I unwrap the gift, revealing a mini-puzzle of a pygmy hippo family.
"Oh," I whisper, my hand pressing to my mouth. "They are my favorite."
"I was hoping they still were."
This gesture does something to my heart, but it's two-fold. The more I feel for Penn, the more I question what Duke and I are doing. And that line of questioning is a dangerous little game to play, a slope that could easily become slippery.
"Thank you," I say, holding the box to my chest. "This is so thoughtful. Every gift was."
In the distance, the sky is turning a muted baby blue over the mountain range to the east. Soon the sun will peek over, making Penn's presence more visible to anybody out early.
"I should go," he says, his thoughts in the same place as mine.
"I wish you would come inside."
I hear it. The double entendre. Penn gives me a meaningful look, and I press my lips together.
And you know what? I've heard what he said about this ring on my finger, and I respect it, but that doesn't mean I can't have a little fun with it.
In a voice as thick and golden as local honey, I say, "You can do that, too. Inside. Outside. Consider me your canvas."
Penn sits back in his seat. Closes his eyes. Pinches the bridge of his nose. "Fuck, Sunshine. Fuck . Go into your house. Go into your house right fucking now ."
But I don't really feel like listening. "Or what?" My eyebrows are raised, my chin lifted.
"Or I will fuck that ring off your finger."
I stand up, bending slightly, placing my lips near the shell of his ear, and whisper, "Don't threaten me with a good time, Sailor."
Then I walk into the house, puzzle in hand.