Chapter Thirty-Five
Max, Now
When I wake up in Daisy’s bedroom, I may as well be emerging from a coma. Every movement pairs with cracking joints and throbbing muscles. A quick glance in the mirror, and I at least don’t have any visible bruising—mostly a tender, swollen cheek.
“Let me guess,” I say, “that’s your third cup of coffee already.”
She whirls around, abandoning her cooking to investigate me up close. “Looks like those frozen peas did their job.”
“Going into bed-and-breakfast territory?” I tease, nodding toward whatever’s sizzling in the pan.
“Just for you. You took an elbow to the face for me.”
“Just for you.”
Daisy rests a gentle hand on my jaw. I could tell her not to make such a fuss over me, but I don’t mind being showered with attention if it means having her this close. I love having her this close. I love her.
I didn’t forget last night.
When she moves back toward the stove, I stalk forward and grab her wrists, wrapping my fingers around them gently so she sets the spatula on the counter. The morning light streams through the dining-room window, illuminating the house with an earthy glow.
“I don’t care about breakfast,” I say, interrupting her with a kiss. The pressure causes a brief throb of pain I gladly tolerate. “I love you, Daze. I’ve loved you a really long time, and I want you to know that.”
“Max.”
“You don’t have to say anything. But I have been dying to get you alone.”
“No.” Her head flicks back and forth. “We can’t—I-I have to tell you something.”
My stomach free-falls, because her denial sounds like she’s already slipping away from me.
“We should sit,” she says, gesturing to the dining area.
“Just tell me.” I don’t mean for my response to be so clipped, but if this is the admission that she doesn’t see us as anything more than friends, ever, that our arrangement was a mistake from the start, and that I’ll never be the guy she’s looking for—then I want to get it over with.
“I—” She clicks the stovetop off and takes a deep breath, not once meeting my eyes. “Do you remember a few months into your first semester at school, you had an exhibit on campus?”
The question catches me off guard. I had countless showcases in college, so they blur together. That fall of freshman year, I would have only had one, and it was the first in my life Daisy didn’t go to.
“Sure, I remember.”
“Well, I…” She gnaws at the corner of her bottom lip. “I was there.”
A chuckle escapes me. I took a punch yesterday, but did she hit her head, too? She’s getting timelines confused. “That was in Dublin,” I say.
“I know.”
I eye her. “When?”
“Opening night. The dates aligned with my college’s Thanksgiving break, and I’d saved up some money.”
She’s doing a spectacular job of not breaking, so I play along with her joke.
“Right,” I say. “We got ice cream after, went to a comedy show, and robbed a bank. It was a great night.”
“I’m serious, Max.”
I let out a laugh, expecting her to break down into giggles at any moment.
“It was in O’Connor Hall, third floor,” she goes on. “Time Travel was the title, or the theme, or whatever you call it. You were wearing a new suit coat. Navy with this sort of darker trim.”
I feel like I’ve stepped into oncoming traffic. “Y-you were there.”
She nods. “I was there.”
“And you never—why didn’t you ever tell me?” My confusion morphs into something harsher. “Or, I don’t know, you could’ve walked over and said hello.”
“You had a massive group of friends. And they were all standing around you, and you looked so…I’d never seen you that happy and thriving. You had this big, new life, and you didn’t need someone from your hometown inserting themselves into an evening like that.”
“You’re not just someone from my hometown.”
“I shouldn’t have gone.”
Although I have a lot of information to process, she left a gaping hole in this story.
“Why did you come in the first place?” I ask.
“I missed you.” She looks at her feet for a moment as a pinkish tint travels up her neck.
“Everything with college and your summer program happened so fast, and I kept thinking about prom night with you, and I kind of realized that my feelings for you were more than a friend thing. So I thought maybe I’d go to Dublin and tell you. ”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, not sure how to feel. Thrilled that she ever felt that way and baffled that she bothered with a transatlantic flight only to never approach me.
And even more confused, because I know what she did next.
“That text.” I look her square in the eyes. “Why would you send that?”
“I would have been a distraction.”
“All you’ve ever done is distract me, Daisy. I don’t mind.”
“I would have, though, with your life starting in Dublin. You worked too hard, and you’re too great to—”
“Don’t pull the martyr card here.” I can’t buy her story—it doesn’t add up. “What were you thinking?”
“I hated not telling you. Not being brave enough.” She shakes her head, unshed tears glistening in her eyes. “But if I had, what would you have done?”
“I’m not sure. Anything. Everything.”
“Exactly. You belonged in Dublin, giving your all to your classes and your friends and your life there. Not dividing your attention even more.”
If Daisy had walked up to me that night and told me how she felt, who knows how I would have reacted. I wouldn’t have dropped out of school, but would I have neglected schoolwork and social outings in favor of phone calls with her? Sure. And how would that have affected all other parts of my life?
I shake my head free of the millions of paths our lives could have taken. “You didn’t have the right to make that choice for me.”
She looks up, abashed, like a dog whose tail knocked over a vase. “Still love me now?”
She asks not like it’s a dare, but like she already knows the answer and just wants me to let her down gently. But loving Daisy isn’t something I can turn off. As long as I’m alive and breathing, there’s a built-in shrine in my heart for her and whatever pieces of her she’ll give me.
I rest my forehead against hers. “I was going to tell you I’m staying, if that’s any way to answer your question.”
Daisy blinks. Her jaw slackens and her lips part, but she says nothing.
“I’ve thought a lot about it. Regina wants to take me on for the next semester at the school.
LA isn’t far, so I could land some short-term work out there.
And if the pop-up’s a hit, we could consider making it a regular thing.
” Where before I only saw limitations, now I imagine all the possibilities here.
Daisy’s about to say something, but I cut her off.
“And you don’t get to tell me I can’t, because we’ve seen what happens when you decide for the two of us. ” This is my decision, not hers.
I watch as her eyes fill with tears. Maybe it’s having grown up watching all the pain her mom went through, married to her dad, but I can tell something’s holding her back. Enclosing Daisy’s wrists in my hands, I trace infinity symbols over the veins and tendons with my thumbs.
“But what if you hate it here?” she asks.
“I couldn’t. You’re here.”
Daisy smiles, and I will do anything for that smile. “I’ve been busy preparing myself for heartbreak with you,” she says. “To have you leave and only get little scraps of you. Watch from afar as you go out with some gorgeous, worldly supermodel artist.”
“You vastly overestimate the other people I date.” I pull her to me. “Even if I had a supermodel begging to be with me, I’d still choose you. Daze, we could be really good together. Give us that chance.”
With a teary nod, she leans in, pressing her lips against mine, and I might be dreaming. Everything has led me back here, back to her. Everything I could ever want or need is right in my arms. I hold her tight, like our bodies could become one if I bring her close enough.
“Max.” She traces a line of urgent kisses against my jawline as she toys with the waistband on my sleep shorts. “I’m yours. I’m your girl.”
Those words send an explosion of heat throughout my body. “Say that again,” I whisper against her skin.
“I’m yours.”
I give her a playful smack on the ass, and she squeals.
“You like that?” she asks, laughing.
I run my hands up her hips and under her shirt, where two hard nipples greet me, hidden behind lace. She’s perfect. With a pinch, Daisy bucks against me and groans.
“I’d like it better if you were on your knees,” I say.
She doesn’t take her eyes off me as she gets down on the floor, slipping off my pajamas in one swoop. One of her hands wraps around me, and she caresses my cock like she wants to worship it. I might collapse with how much I crave her.
“Slow,” I tell her. I don’t trust myself to last long, and I want to savor this.
She lowers her lips onto me an inch at a time. Daisy’s mouth is warm and tight as she sucks me off, her head bobbing a couple times before she leans back on her heels and lets me slip out.
“I’m your girl.” She takes all of me again, my tip nudging against the back of her throat until she releases me.
All I can manage are raw, raspy sounds while she goes down on me.
The heat, the pressure, the buildup—they’re too much.
I grip the counter for support while my other hand toys with her hair.
Guiding her off of me, my dick bounces freely, and she looks up at me, lips glistening and pure lust reflected in her eyes.
“Up,” I order her. “Now.”
She stands, and I cup her butt in both hands to lift her onto the counter, where she leverages her legs to loop around my waist. I’m lined up perfectly with her, and we grind into each other like a couple of high schoolers.
After a bit of maneuvering, I tear her jeans and panties off, helping her rock onto one hip, then the other, until she’s bare-assed on the counter.
She takes my hand and guides it to her pussy. She’s velvet. I follow her rhythm, and our fingers twine together as they slide up, down, and around her clit.
“I want you,” she whimpers.
“Want me to what?”