40. Daisy
40
Daisy
I f there’s one place on this planet I really don’t feel like being right now, it’s the bar where Jess works.
I push through the crowded doorway, my pulse ramping up as I enter the dimly lit setting. It’s quitting time on a Friday evening, and the dive bar is swarming with people enjoying that end-of-the-week buzz. Jess will be busy, but that’s intentional. I’ve waited all week for this moment, both to give him time to cool off, and to come when it would be busiest. I figured if I approached Jess when the place was packed, he’d be less likely to yell at me and storm off.
I still can’t completely rule that out, though.
This week has been torture without Wes. On Wednesday I went back to work, and have spent the past three days doing everything possible to keep myself busy. I deep cleaned the espresso machine. I scraped gum off the underside of every table in Joe’s. I cleaned out and reorganized the food cabinet.
But there are only so many things you can do in a coffee shop to pass the time, especially when it’s unusually quiet, like it has been this past week. Wes has mercifully respected my wishes for us to take some space and hasn’t come into Joe’s. He texted to check that I was okay, but that’s all. I replied that I was fine, and I hoped he was okay too, but it did nothing to soothe me. I desperately wanted to tell him about the disaster with my parents, to tell him I miss him like I’ve never missed anyone in my life.
I never knew it was possible to miss someone like this, that missing them could be a whole-body experience. My heart aches without him. My bones feel hollow. My limbs are heavy, and I have to drag myself around. But after that fiasco with my parents, I know I’m doing the right thing by putting his relationship with Jess first. It only reinforced how important that is.
I’ll have to see him at the wedding next weekend, though. I’ll just… have to keep my distance, I guess. Besides, I’ll be busy with the photography, and it’s not like we were going to be all over each other anyway. He didn’t want Violet and Kyle to know about us.
And I’ll have to pretend I’m okay with all of that.
Of course, I’ll have to find somewhere else to develop the photos from the wedding, but I’ve already done some research and discovered there are several darkroom spaces you can rent in Brooklyn. And while I’d rather be ensconced in my own private, custom-built darkroom at Weston’s house, I know that’s not the best idea right now. It would be all too easy to sneak upstairs to Wes’s bed, to fall into his arms and tell him I’m in love with him, to tell him I can’t stand to be apart.
Anyway. Enough thinking about him. It’s all I’ve done since I left, and it’s not helping one bit.
I elbow through the crowd, making my way to the bar where Jess is pouring a glass of Prosecco for a woman. She tucks a generous tip into his hand and saunters away, and it occurs to me that this is probably a pretty lucrative job for a good-looking guy like him.
He turns to the next customer, listening to their request, then I watch as he chats animatedly to the bartender next to him, a woman who looks to be mid-twenties, with long black braids, a wide smile, and warm brown skin. Jess says something as he mixes a cocktail, and she throws her head back, laughing and touching him on the arm. It makes me smile.
Until his gaze lifts to find me waiting at the bar, and his brows slam down. For a second I think he’ll ignore me, but he leans forward, the tendons flexing in his forearms as he grips the edge of the bar hard.
“What do you want?”
“Can we talk, Jess?” My heart rattles against my ribcage at the anger swirling in his gaze. “Please?”
“I’m busy, Daisy. Find someone else to talk to.” And with that, he turns to the next customer in line.
I let my breath out in a long stream, telling myself that’s a fair response. I’d probably behave exactly the same way if I were in his shoes.
But I have nowhere to be and nothing to lose.
I slide onto a barstool and watch him work, acutely aware of the other bartender—the woman who laughed uproariously at Jesse’s earlier words—eying me the entire time.
Eventually, she comes over, her pretty face scrunched in a frown. “You can’t sit here if you’re not going to drink,” she says pointedly.
I pull my purse out with a sigh. “Can I get a glass of merlot, please?”
She fetches my drink and takes my money, then hovers near me behind the bar when there’s a lull in the crowd, letting Jess and the other bartenders serve.
“He’s taken,” she tells me as I watch Jess pour a line of shots.
I glance at her. “What?”
“The guy you keep staring at.” She motions toward Jess. “He’s mine.”
Despite her frosty tone, I fight the urge to smile. Jess is dating her? Good for him.
“I’m not interested in Jess,” I say, and her eyebrows lift at my use of his name. “So… I’m happy for you two.”
“You know him?”
I take a long sip of wine, deciding how to answer. “Yeah. We’re… friends.”
She glances from me to Jess, who’s restocking the cocktail napkins on the counter and studiously ignoring me, her expression doubtful.
“I mean, we were,” I clarify. “I let him down recently, and… I need to apologize.”
Her face softens. “So that’s why he’s been weird all week.”
I give her a curious look. “He didn’t tell you? I thought you were together.”
“Uh…” She smiles sheepishly, picking up a rag to wipe at an invisible stain on the bar. “We’re not technically dating… yet.” Her mahogany eyes flash to mine, full of fire. “But we will be.”
I can’t help but grin. Gotta love a woman who knows what she wants.
“Maybe you can put in a good word for me,” she adds, looking hopeful.
I sigh. “Hard to do that when he won’t talk to me.”
She taps her index finger to her lip for a moment, looking thoughtful. Then, sweeping her long braids over one shoulder, she says, “Leave it with me.” She walks away to speak quietly into Jess’s ear, and he shakes his head, frowning at me. Another word from her, a huge eye-roll from him, and he stalks out from behind the bar, shoving through the crowd to my side. I’m astonished when he bends down to say,
“You have five minutes. Make it good.”
Christ. I don’t need to put in a good word for her. She’s already got him wrapped around her finger.
“Can we go somewhere less crowded?” I ask, knowing I’m pushing my luck.
He glowers at me, then looks over to my new friend—I’ll need to get her name—motioning that he’s popping outside. Relief trickles through me as I follow him out of the bar and onto the sidewalk, into the soft apricot light of late evening. It’s cooler out now that summer is slipping into fall, and I pull my thin sweater tighter around me.
“Thanks, Jess,” I say as we wander slowly along the bustling pavement toward Tompkins Square Park.
“I’m not doing this for you,” he mutters, hands shoved into his pockets. “I’m doing it for Simone.”
Simone . So that’s her name.
“I like her.” I try to smile at Jess, but he’s kicking his sneakers angrily along the sidewalk, refusing to meet my gaze. “And I think she likes you.”
He shakes his head, looking across the street. “What do you care?”
“I do care.” I reach out to touch his arm, then think better of it.
We cross Avenue A, entering Tompkins Square Park, and I motion for us to sit on a bench. Jess hesitates for a long moment, then eventually joins me, facing a statue of some guy I don’t recognize.
“Jess…” I take a deep breath, hoping he’ll stay long enough to hear me out. Hoping he’ll listen. “I’m so sorry.”
He folds his arms stubbornly across his chest, saying nothing. I give him a moment to absorb my apology, then draw breath to speak again, when he finally says, “I don’t get it, Daisy.” His ocean-blue eyes, identical to his father’s, express hurt when they meet mine. “I know things didn’t end well—”
“Things didn’t just not end well ,” I say, knowing this is not the reason I’m here, but struggling to let that go. “You brought someone else home, then yelled at me for not sleeping with you, in front of your dad, before vanishing. It was humiliating.”
Regret flickers in Jesse’s eyes, but it quickly passes. “Yeah, but my dad ? Of all the people to—”
“I know.” I look down at my hands. “But you have to understand, we… There was already something there, before I even met you. It’s not like I went after him out of revenge, or something.”
“But…” Jess rubs his eyes. “This is what I don’t get. If you two liked each other—which is still something I’m struggling with, by the way—but if you did, then why didn’t something happen before you met me?”
“Because…” How do I explain this? “I thought he was married. He still wore his ring.”
Jess picks up a red oak leaf that falls onto his lap, the edges rimmed in gold, heralding the start of fall. He folds it between his fingers, his jaw tight, saying nothing.
“You know things weren’t great between us,” I murmur. “We weren’t a good fit.”
He huffs, tearing the leaf in two.
“I didn’t hold back with you because of We—” I cringe. “Because of your dad. I did that because it didn’t feel right, and I think you knew that too. That we weren’t a good match.”
He shrugs, still refusing to speak.
“Honestly, Jess…” I sigh, picking up a leaf of my own and smoothing it between my palms. “I’m not sure you were even ready for a relationship. I’m not sure you’d… dealt with what happened with your mom. You wouldn’t let me in. You wouldn’t talk.”
“For fuck’s sake.” He flings the leaf onto the ground and goes to launch to his feet, but I grab his arm.
“This is what I mean,” I say gently. “I’m trying to talk to you about this, but you won’t let me.” I remember what Rex said about Jess speaking to a therapist, and wonder if I should mention that, then think better of it. I can only hope he’s still seeing them.
“So that makes it okay?” He wheels to face me, eyes dark with fury. “I wouldn’t talk to you about my dead mom, so you thought it was okay to fuck my dad?”
“Jesus.” I press a hand to my forehead. “Of course not. It wasn’t like that.”
“What was it like, then?” he spits. “Tell me how it happened. I need to know.”
“Jess—”
“Tell me.”
I exhale slowly. “I spent a lot of time with him while you were out with friends at the beach. Mostly I think he felt sorry for me, being left there alone. And it was nice to have the company. Then when you took off, we…” Ugh, this part doesn’t make either of us look good. “I stuck around for a few days, and we went for a walk to Sullivan’s Cove. We both knew at that point that we had feelings for each other, but we agreed not to act on them.” I pause, wondering whether I should mention the darkroom, then decide to be honest. Jess has already seen it, anyway. “While we were away, your dad really encouraged me to get back into my photography. He was quite insistent.” I chuff a tiny laugh at the memory, and Jess glances at me, puzzled.
“You do photography?”
I nod. “This is what I mean about us not being a good match. You should have known this about me.”
Realization dawns on his face. “The darkroom… the photographs… those were yours? You took those?”
“Yes. Well… most of them,” I add, my cheeks heating at the memory of the ones Wes took. The ones Jess found.
He must be remembering that too because his brows crash together again and he turns away.
“Your dad built me the darkroom to encourage me. It’s…” I shake my head, still partially in disbelief about his actions. “It’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”
There’s a crack in Jesse’s anger for a split second, but he quickly hides it, snapping, “So you slept with him?”
“Of course not. We actually agreed not to see each other because of you. We decided it was for the best. I only used the darkroom when he wasn’t there. But then it was his birthday, and…” I shake my head, pulling my hair over one shoulder and fiddling with a split end. “I made him a lemon cake, and he—”
“Lemon cake?” Jesse’s tone is a knife-edge of sadness and hostility. “My mom used to make those.”
“I know. I mean, I didn’t know that until after. It was a coincidence. But… I think your dad was having a hard time on his birthday, not hearing from you. I was going to give him the cake and leave, but I didn’t. You need to know”—I touch Jesse’s arm so he looks at me—“it’s not his fault. He was very clear that nothing could happen between us. If I hadn’t showed up with that cake…” I trail off here, because I want to believe Wes and I would have gotten together anyway. I can’t let myself imagine a world where we didn’t.
Jess leans his elbows onto his knees, heaving out a long breath, absorbing everything.
“I’m sorry we kept it from you, and I’m really sorry you found out the way you did.” I grimace, remembering the photos strewn across the kitchen island, the disgust on Jesse’s face. “That must have been awful.”
He grunts a sardonic laugh.
“But I’m not sorry I fell in love with him. It’s probably hard for you to imagine, but he and I are a good fit. I’d never dream of replacing your mom,” I add quickly. “But I think… I think I make him happy. And doesn’t he deserve that, after everything he’s been through?”
Jess digs his hands into his hair, staring at the ground. There’s a moment where I think he’s coming around, but when he finally sits up to look at me, his eyes are dark with misery and red-rimmed.
“I can’t do this,” he mutters, shoving to his feet.
Panic flares in my chest. What happened? It felt like we were making progress.
“Jess, please—”
“Look, I might be able to forgive you , but my dad…”
I grab Jesse’s arm, desperate for him to hear me. “It wasn’t his fault. I was the one who—”
“The one who lied to my face for a whole week after I moved home?” Jess snaps, shaking my hand off. “Who pretended everything between us was fine?”
“He was scared to lose you again. You have to understand—”
“I don’t, actually.” Jess stares at me hard for a long moment, grinding his jaw, then shakes his head, turning away. “I have to get back to work.”
“Jess—” I call desperately, but he doesn’t so much as turn around.
I know there’s no point in following him. I’ve said all I wanted to say, and I can only hope that in time, he’ll come around.
With a leaden heart I watch him stalk away from me, then I head home to another lonely night without Weston.