22. Daisy
22
DAISY
I t’s perfect here. The water is warmer than in Santa Cruz, the sun is bright, and there’s nothing to dodge aside from other surfers.
I’d worried that I’d feel like the interloper on this trip, that suddenly Harrison and I would revert to that old routine of responsible guy saddled with friend’s wayward niece , but the opposite is true.
“What do you think of the house, Daisy?” Oliver asks as we straddle our boards, waiting for the next set to come in. His accent is slight, more in where he places emphasis than in the words themselves.
“Absolutely amazing so far, though I haven’t made it past the main floor yet.”
I suppose Audrey would have been very sophisticated about the whole thing. She wouldn’t have insisted on surfing. She’d have fixed her makeup and opened a bottle of expensive champagne while expressing discontent with some small failing she’d found in the house—“ I really don’t love this cabinetry, ” or “ Is there not a wine fridge? ”
I don’t think Audrey was happy, and I don’t think Harrison was happy with her, but I’d still probably give up everything about myself if it just could make him want me the way he once wanted her.
“I’ll give you two the master bedroom on the top floor,” Oliver says. “It has its own hot tub, by the way.”
My eyes widen as I glance from him to Harrison, who is leveling his brother with the same kind of look Liam has often given me—the one that silently says, “ You are such a pain in the ass .”
“We are not sharing a room, Oliver,” Harrison says. He almost manages to conceal the growl in his voice.
Oliver laughs and reaches for my hand, pressing a gentle kiss to my knuckles. “In that case, Daisy, how do you feel about sharing it with your old friend Oliver? I’m new to your country’s strange ways and scared to be alone.”
Harrison jerks my board away from Oliver’s without explanation. “You’re not new to this country,” he says, and this time he does not conceal his growl, “and she’s not staying in your fucking room.”
Oliver winks at me, as if this was exactly the outcome he’d hoped for.
The light is nearly gone by the time we get back to the house. There are three master bedrooms, but mine—isolated on the top floor—is the best.
They’re beside the kitchen counter chatting amiably in French when I arrive downstairs in a sundress thirty minutes later, my damp hair twisted into a topknot, a touch of red gloss on my mouth.
The conversation comes to a dead stop when they see me and for a moment their expressions are nearly identical. It’s as if I’m unexpected, and wondrous—a waterspout, a tidal wave, a sudden snowstorm in the middle of spring .
“You look lovely,” Oliver says, placing a hand at the small of my back and drawing me forward. “Doesn’t she look lovely, Harrison?”
Harrison’s jaw locks. “She’s never not lovely, Oliver,” he grunts, turning away to grab his keys. “Give it a rest.”
Oliver winks at me once again, as if we are in on something together, but it’s not entirely clear to me what we’re in on. Is he flirting with me? Is he trying to set me up with Harrison? I have no idea.
Whatever is unsettled between them relaxes once we reach the restaurant. We enjoy a lovely meal at an outdoor table that sits right on the sand. The first bottle of red is empty by the time our entrees arrive and a second is ordered, while Oliver regales me with tales of Harrison’s summer visits. I didn’t realize how much time he’d spent traveling with his brothers, for years and years, or that his mother and stepfather own so much property—a vineyard in some little town called St. Antoine, a beach house in Biarritz, a cottage in Provence.
“You must bring her to Provence next summer,” Oliver urges Harrison, turning to me. “Have you been?”
I’m sure Audrey has been to Provence a thousand times, so many times she can’t be bothered to stop when she’s passing through. “My family doesn’t have multiple vacation homes kind of money. I’ve never even left the country.”
He grins. “Even more reason to come, then. And if you have sisters for me and Matthew, bring them as well. You must bring someone for Matthew, or he’ll steal you. He’s definitely the best-looking and most charming of us all.”
Harrison’s eyes are growing dark.
“You’re annoying Harrison,” I tell Oliver. “He doesn’t classify siblings according to hotness.”
“That’s because he’d be last,” Oliver says, toasting him. “Clearly, it’s Matthew, then me, then Harrison. So you’ll bring your equally lovely sisters to France, and we’ll stay in Provence for a week, with perhaps a visit to ?le du Levant.”
“Daisy has no sisters, and you sure as hell won’t be taking her to ?le du Levant.”
I love listening to the way French names roll off Harrison’s tongue. I love the way his mouth moves as he says them. It’s just like Harrison to be fucking fluent in French and never even mention it.
“What’s wrong with ?le du whatever?” I ask.
“Nothing,” Oliver answers. “Harrison is just quite American in his views on nudity. I think you’d love it.”
I laugh, but Harrison does not. He must know his brother is simply baiting him, but I think it bothers him anyway.
I tap his foot. “I don’t know about Provence next year. I might make Harrison take me to Costa Rica instead.”
Harrison relaxes, as if the trip is really happening, as if I’ve just solved every problem he had. And my heart gives one hard, audible thump, because I make him happy and that makes me happy. I already know my heart will break when this summer ends and I’m alone again, but now I’m wondering how his will fare as well.
After dinner, we go to the nearest grocery store as Oliver has purchased nothing but wine since he arrived. We’re standing in line when I run back to the freezer section for frozen acai.
“Hey, didn’t I see you at Zuma Beach yesterday?” asks a guy nearby.
I shake my head. “I just arrived today, so it wasn’t me.”
He grins. “Sorry. You’re blonde and tan…I guess there are a lot of women in California who meet that description. Where are you in from?”
I open my mouth to answer and am silenced by the arm that wraps around me, large and firm and possessive, the hand resting on my hip. “Do you have what you need?” asks Harrison, standing closer than he ever would normally, so close that his breath brushes against my hair when he asks the question. My nipples harden simply from his nearness, his touch, his breath, and I resent it. Since when does he wrap his arm around me anywhere ?
I grab the acai and force a smile at the guy I was talking to. “Have a nice evening.”
Harrison’s arm falls away, but he remains close to my side as we walk back toward Oliver.
“What was that?” I demand.
“You can do better than a guy who’s hitting on you in the freezer section based solely on your looks, Daisy,” he grunts.
Oliver is laughing as we approach. “Did he save you from the bad man in the Stanford hoodie?” he asks. “I knew once I saw the fruit and paper towels in his cart that he was up to no good. Thank God Harrison stepped in.”
I laugh while Harrison acts as if he hasn’t heard us and starts unloading our cart.
It’s pretty clear that Oliver thinks Harrison’s jealous—and as crazy as it sounds, I’m starting to wonder too.
When we get home, they want to stay up with a bottle of wine, but I’m too tired to join them, and I figure they need some brotherly bonding time anyhow.
I throw my doors open to the balcony as I get ready for bed. The waves crash and their voices from the deck below reach my ear sporadically—laughing and bickering, mostly in French.
And then, clear as day, Oliver speaks. “Deny it all you want,” he says in English. “The only one you’re fooling is yourself.”
I fall asleep dreaming of Harrison’s arm around me in the grocery store, whispering French words that I somehow understand. “Do you see how it is with us?” he asks, and that hand grips my hip hard, a promise of things to come. “This was always meant to happen. ”
“I do,” I tell him. “I was just waiting for you to see it too.”
I wake up and stare at the dark ceiling. The words he spoke in my dream are ones he’d never utter in real life.
Whereas the words I spoke in that dream have been resting on the tip of my tongue for a decade, just waiting to be set free.