5. Daisy
5
Daisy
I press the doorbell with a nervous flutter in my belly. I’ve been seeing Jesse for a while now, and we became exclusive a couple months back. I’d helped him get an interview with a friend of Dave’s who runs a coffee shop on the Lower East Side, and when we met up after and he told me he’d gotten the job, he surprised me by asking me to be his girlfriend. He’s surprised me in so many ways since I met him, but the biggest surprise of all has to be the way he responded when I told him I was a virgin.
We had the conversation on our first date. He’d taken me to a fancy restaurant I hadn’t expected, and when I asked him how he knew about the place, he told me his mom had recommended it. True to his word, we kept things light, and talked about movies and work and our favorite places in the city. By the end of the evening, I knew I wanted to see him again, and decided to come clean about my lack of experience. I thought he’d be shocked, but he took it in stride, telling me he wasn’t in any rush. He said he’d done the casual thing and was interested in something more. It was refreshing, to say the least.
That was three months ago, and while I’ve had fun hanging out with him, part of me feels there’s so much more to Jesse than he lets on. But how well can you know someone after such a short period of time? That’s the point of committing—to see where it could go. And since we’ve started dating, that stuck feeling has gotten quieter. It’s not gone completely, but it’s easier to ignore. So it’s worth sticking around to see what this thing with Jesse could become.
And he’s letting me in more. At least, it seems like he wants to. He invited me to come to his place tonight, which I think means meeting his parents. I mean, I know he lives with his folks, so it’s likely they’ll be here.
The door swings open and Jesse stands there in his Yankees hoodie, a grin on his mouth. “Hey.” He leans in to peck me on the cheek before stepping aside, and I enter the foyer of the townhouse with wide eyes.
Holy crap, this place is nice . I should have known that, given the red brick fa?ade and beautiful tree-lined street, but inside it’s like another level. The historic building has been completely redone, the interior clean and modern, with bright white walls and dark stained floors. I follow Jesse through to an immaculate kitchen, lined with glossy white cabinets, and a huge marble island in the center. I think of the barely one-and-a-half-bedroom apartment Denise and I share, and grimace, knowing I’ll never take Jesse there as this is where he comes from.
“Nice place,” I murmur.
He shrugs. “It’s okay. My mom redecorated it before…” he trails off and shoves his head into the fridge, then retreats, brandishing two beer bottles. “This okay? Or there’s probably some wine somewhere. I know my dad drinks it.”
“This is great, thanks.”
He pops the tops off the beer and hands a bottle to me, then motions for me to follow him into the next room. It’s a living room with a huge black leather sectional facing a giant flat-screen TV.
“Whoa, that’s massive,” I say, and Jesse shrugs again.
“I don’t spend much time down here. Usually, my dad is home, getting on my case about something, so I go to my room. I have the whole top floor to myself.”
I glance around the quiet house. “Where’s your dad now?” I must admit, I’m relieved his parents don’t seem to be home. Meeting the folks is a big step, and if I’m honest, I’m not sure I’m ready for that yet, especially since Jesse has made it clear he doesn’t get along with his father.
“He’s got a late meeting,” Jesse assures me. I’m about to ask where his mom is when he adds, “We’ll have the place to ourselves for a few hours. I figured that would be better.”
That same nervous sensation ripples through me and I swallow, unsure what he’s expecting tonight. Hesitation tugs at me when I think about sleeping with him. I know we’ve been dating for three months, but shouldn’t I be feeling something… more? Excitement, maybe? Or love? Is it ridiculous to admit that I’d like to fall in love before having sex? It feels so old-fashioned, but as Jesse takes my hand and leads me to the sofa, I realize that I’m not prepared to do this with just any cute guy. I’ve waited this long, and that makes it feel even more important.
Jesse places his beer on a side table and turns to me with a smile. Is he someone I could fall in love with?
I shake the thought off, irritated with myself. It’s only been a few months, for God’s sake. Maybe I’m not in love with him now, but if I give it time, I’m sure I could be. He’s sweet and cute and funny, and he’s been nothing but a gentleman since I told him how inexperienced I am. What more could I ask for? I simply need to be honest with him.
I take a sip from my beer and set it carefully on a coaster on the coffee table. “So, listen. I’m not ready to have sex tonight.”
“Oh.” Jesse’s brow dips. “Right, of course.” He slides closer to me on the couch, smiling gently. “I guess I can wait some more.”
I tilt my head. “You’re okay with that?”
“I… yeah.” He lifts my hand to his mouth, brushing a kiss across the back of it. “I like you, Daisy. A lot. I think this could really go somewhere.”
Whoa. Okay.
See? I reassure myself. You’ve made a good choice with this one.
“I’m glad,” I whisper, sliding closer still. Then I lean in and press my mouth to his. He responds by wrapping an arm around my back and tugging me into him, and I raise a hand to touch his cheek.
The sound of a throat clearing behind us makes me jump, and I lurch away from Jesse, spinning around to see who’s there.
My gaze lands on a tall man with salt-and-pepper hair and three-day scruff on his sharp jaw. When his ocean-blue eyes lock with mine, my stomach falls through the floor.
Weston ?
I spring up from the sofa, confused. “Hi,” I say, wiping a hand across my mouth. Heat sears my cheeks. “What… what are you doing here?”
“I live here.” His gaze moves from me to Jesse, then back again. “And you must be…”
Beside me, Jesse rises to his feet with a sigh of resignation. “This is my girlfriend, Daisy.”
A muscle tics in Weston’s jaw.
“Daisy, this is my dad.”
Oh, no . Weston is Jesse’s dad ? Jesse is the son Weston was talking about?
I look between the two of them, cataloging the similarities. Both tall. Same cool blue eyes. Same chestnut hair, even though Weston’s is laced with silver.
God, Weston is Jesse’s dad . That makes him… Weston Abbott . I think back to how familiar Jesse seemed when I first met him. It’s no wonder I was attracted to him. He must have, on some level, reminded me of the guy from work I have a crush on.
I mean, had. Had a crush on. I’m not crushing on him anymore, now that I have a boyfriend. And I’m certainly not crushing on him now that I know he’s my boyfriend’s dad. That would be all kinds of wrong. Much like the things I’ve done while thinking of him, alone in the bathtub. I shudder at the thought.
“I…” I smooth my skirt, cringing. I can’t believe Weston just caught me making out with his son on his sofa.
“We know each other,” Weston says after what feels like an eternity.
Jesse’s expression darkens. “How?”
“Your dad comes into my work every day,” I explain, deciding to leave out the part about how he’s my favorite customer, how I’ve spent every day of the past year trying to make him smile. “We… chat sometimes.”
Weston’s gaze bores into mine for a long moment, and I shift my weight. We both know that’s a very simplified version of things, especially lately. Because lately, I’ve felt a shift between us that I haven’t been able to put my finger on. We’ve gone from talking about benign things like the weather, to asking how the other is, and answering more and more honestly. But, I’m ashamed to admit, we’ve both left out important parts of our lives. I never talked about Jesse, and he never spoke of his wife.
Well, that’s going to have to change now, isn’t it?
“I thought you were working late?” Jesse grumbles.
Weston lets out a long breath, tearing his gaze from mine as he loosens his tie. “My meeting finished early. I should be allowed to come home to my own house, Jess.”
Just like that, the tension between them pulls taut. I let out a faint laugh, desperate to lighten the mood.
“Of course you are,” I say, nudging Jesse. “Right?”
Jesse glances at me sullenly. “Right,” he mutters.
I turn back to Weston, forcing a bright smile. “Is your wife working late too?”
An icy chill falls over the room, and Jesse stiffens beside me. Weston gives me an odd look before glancing at his son in disbelief. Finally, he turns back to me and sighs.
“My wife… Jesse’s mom… died three years ago.”
She what ? I look at Jesse in shock. His jaw is hard as he stares at the floor, refusing to meet my gaze. His mom died ? How could he not tell me that?
But… No, he said his mom recommended the restaurant he took me to on our first date, and he said other things about her, too. Though it’s only just occurring to me now that they were things that happened in the past. He never spoke of her in the past tense, though. Almost like…
Like he didn’t want to admit she was gone.
I take in Jesse’s slumped shoulders, think of the trouble he’s had getting along with his father—with Weston—and yet he’s been able to laugh and be so sweet with me. My heart squeezes.
“I… I’m so sorry to hear that,” I murmur at last.
I turn back to Weston, and before I can stop it, my gaze falls to the ring on his left hand. I think of how different he was when he first started coming to Joe’s last year, how he never smiled. How it took me ages to get him to even make eye contact with me, how over the past year he’s been slowly warming up and laughing more until it felt like he almost came back to life. I don’t know what I’d been assuming. That maybe he’d been in a bad marriage? That he was unhappy at home? Whatever it was, I was way off the mark.
Because he’s not married, I realize. He’s grieving for his wife.
I thought I knew both men, albeit under totally different circumstances, but now I wonder what it was I thought I knew. Why does Jesse hate his dad so much? I can’t fathom how the sweet man who chats with me every morning could possibly be as terrible as Jesse makes him out to be, but what do I know about him really? What do I know about either of them?
I back away, shaking my head. It suddenly feels like I’m intruding on an extremely personal family moment, and I’d rather be anywhere but here.
“I should… I should go.”
“What?” Jesse glances at me before shooting an angry look at his dad.
“No, Daisy.” Weston heaves a weary sigh. “You don’t have to leave.”
“Yeah, no…” My head is reeling with this new information. It’s too much to take in. Weston is Jesse’s father. His wife—Jesse’s mom—passed away not that long ago. And these two, for reasons I don’t understand, can’t seem to stand each other.
“I need to go,” I say again, turning for the kitchen and snatching my bag off the counter. Jesse appears at my side as I reach the front door.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” His blue eyes are ringed with misery, and I lift a hand to his face.
I can’t be mad at him. Do I wish he’d told me? Yes, but this isn’t about me. I’m not the one who had to deal with something so painful. He obviously didn’t feel comfortable enough to bring it up, and I need to respect that.
Besides, I didn’t tell him about my parents, or that I don’t even speak to them anymore. In fact, the few times he’s asked, I’ve deliberately changed the subject. Because Jesse isn’t the only one who’s hiding. I’m hiding too. Not just from him—from myself. I have been for years. And I can’t face that any more than he can face the death of his mom. So I can hardly blame him for keeping this from me.
“That’s okay,” I say, softly stroking his cheek. “It’s your business, Jesse.”
“Then why are you leaving?”
How do I explain the awkwardness I feel about Weston being his dad? The shock about learning what he’s—what they’ve both —been through?
I shake my head, rising on my toes to peck him on the lips. “It’s just… a lot. I’ll text you, okay?”
Jesse gives a reluctant nod, then opens the door for me. I step out into the night air and walk to the subway, my head spinning.
And all I can think about is if I’ll be able to face Weston in the morning.