Chapter Forty-Three
Max, Now
Since landing two days ago, I’ve met every employee at Tate Modern, from the conservators to the gift shop cashiers.
I could walk around the museum blindfolded at this point.
My visit included discussing the job and how they hope to expand their traveling exhibits, and during any spare moment, the recruiting team packed in activities throughout the city for me to get to know London better.
Through the travel exhaustion, the time difference, and the nonstop meetings, I’ve been moving on autopilot.
I think you’d be a fool not to go. My chest constricts as I picture Daisy saying those words—urging me to grab this opportunity—when all I want is for her to let me love her.
Antoine coughs, bringing me back to the trendy wine bar. He stares at me.
“Sorry, I—what did you say?”
“That we will pay for the hotel in New York and the priority visa, so you should receive the required documents in a matter of a few days. In the meantime, my assistant will integrate you into our technical side of operations.”
“Perfect.” I don’t have the energy for more than one word.
“Is everything alright?”
“Yeah. Jet lag.”
Antoine swirls his glass of wine and eyes me.
My flight leaves London in a few hours, and after a frenzy of a trip, he suggested a drink before departure, one-on-one.
He selected an upscale place that has too-dark lighting for the time of day, atmospheric jazz playing a fraction too loud, and chic but uncomfortable bistro chairs.
I almost laugh at how opposite this bar is from Sal’s.
“Did you enjoy your brief stay in London?”
“What’s not to enjoy?” The response comes out canned, and Antoine’s eyes narrow at me like he’s inspecting a canvas in one of the impressive halls at Tate.
What am I doing? I’ve signed the contract.
I shouldn’t give my employer any reason to believe he made a mistake in hiring me, especially since I’m only just crawling out of the proverbial hole that Impressions dug for me.
Eleanor also has her reputation on the line because she recommended me so highly.
Even if I changed my mind, Daisy won’t pick up the phone.
I’ve had my heart torn out of my body, and I have to act like this is all still exactly what I want.
“The city will take some getting used to,” I say, making an excuse for my blasé attitude. “London’s massive.”
“Yes, Dublin has a considerable size difference.”
I meant compared to Harlow, but I don’t correct him. These couple of days have reminded me about the city life I left behind—the nonstop bustle of people, the endless choice of restaurants or museums or bars, and the never-ending list of activities that make every day different.
But no Daisy. London can be as big and exciting as it wants, but it will still be the loneliest, emptiest city in the world. Every city I’ll visit for this job will be.
If this had been any other position or any other museum, maybe Daisy wouldn’t have pushed so much.
This is the career that me at the start of the summer would have tripped over, and she knows it.
I wish I could tear my contract to shreds because I lose both ways.
Either I spend my life never completely happy, or I stay in Harlow where Daisy would never forgive herself for thinking she’s holding me back.
“I’ll admit,” Antoine says, shaking his head, “I was worried about this.”
I shoot him a quizzical look.
“You don’t want to leave Harlow. I can see why it would be hard. Even in the short time I was there, the town charmed me. There is something extraordinary about it, and to be frank, that was what I enjoyed most about Desert Daze.”
“The location?”
“That, yes. The juxtaposition of nature and man-made pieces, and the reminder of what we all come from and what we’re all capable of.
But I mean the passion you have for where you grew up.
The whole exhibit was a devotion not only to art, to childhood, to what we were and what we become, but also to the town itself.
I sense how much you care for that place. ”
Harlow is Daisy to me. She’s ingrained in my hometown, in every corner and crevice, and I can’t separate the two.
Everyone there benefits because of her—life is better, more interesting.
More everything. Even the things that annoyed me about Harlow growing up, I liked because of her. I saw why Daisy loves being there.
I should do what she wants—get out, get away, move on, and probably stop calling, too. But I don’t know if that can ever truly happen.
“You love it, don’t you?” Antoine asks, interrupting my thoughts. “You love Harlow?”
I twirl my wine and watch the last of the ruby liquid swirl.
“Always have.” I press my thumb into the bulb of the glass, observing the ghost of a fingerprint left behind.
Memories of the past few months flash in my mind.
Longing looks over foamy beers at Sal’s.
The way Daisy’s laugh causes me to instantly relax.
How somehow desert heat has a smell, and that smell is Daisy’s skin.
“A small town, though.” Antoine nods, his eyebrows remaining furrowed. “Similar to where I grew up myself. Comfortable, but perhaps limiting?” His eyes search mine like he wants to know if he’s struck a chord.
I chew on that sentiment. “As a kid, Harlow suffocated me, but being there this summer convinced me I could do almost anything.” Maybe that was Daisy. “In places like that, you find the people who are the heartbeat of the town, and they open up the world there to you.”
If I want to convince Antoine that I will drop everything and move to London, I should stop waxing poetic about my hometown. Do I actually think I’ll take back my signed agreement with Tate, head to Harlow, and run Desert Daze the rest of my life? And that Daisy would welcome me back?
Antoine regards me silently for a few beats. “And your girlfriend? She is looking forward to this too? Spending time here in London with you, maybe she would relocate here…it must be quite exciting for her.”
Antoine doesn’t need all the details of my love life—what he expects is an easy yes, she’s thrilled. He wants a prospective employee who gives him no doubts, not someone who’s mid-breakup, or mid-end-of-whatever-we-were. But instead of smiling and nodding, I tell him the truth.
“So, the wistfulness for your hometown is heartbreak,” he says.
“I’ve woken up every morning feeling like my organs are shutting down.” I ruffle my hair, searching for the right words. “I signed the work agreement, and it’s what she told me to do. And I want this job, but…I want her more.”
Antoine pauses and pulls out his phone and starts scrolling, probably to call up Eleanor to talk some sense into me. Instead, he holds up a recent photograph of himself, smartly dressed in a burgundy suit, staring lovingly into the eyes of a woman in a white ball gown.
“This is my wife,” he says, crow’s feet crinkling at the corners of his face. “We’ll be married two years this December.”
“Congrats.” It comes out more like a question because this information is coming out of the blue.
“We’ve known each other since we were fifteen.
Her father did not approve of me. He envisioned a surgeon or doctor for his only daughter.
” He blows air out of his lips and shakes his head at the memory.
“We ended things. She and I only reconnected a few years ago.” He regards me with a serious look in his eyes.
“Her father tried to convince her she wanted something else.”
“So she tried to convince you that you deserved better?”
“No, actually. She believed in us wholeheartedly, always. It was I he had convinced. So, I empathize with your Daisy. Nothing would have made me reconsider. I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if we’d married young, and I couldn’t have given her everything I knew she deserved.”
“But you lost so much time.” I imagine waiting years, maybe decades, for Daisy to be ready for us, and the thought makes me want to sink into the floor with despair.
“Not lost. I became who I needed to be for her.” Antoine rests a palm on my shoulder. “Sylvie had her arm outstretched to grab my hand and walk with me back then. But I was not prepared to take a single step, and I wouldn’t let her drag me along the path on her own.”
Just like with me and Daisy. I’m poised to go on this journey, but she’s not ready, not yet. If I want to find my way back into her life, I need to make the path clear for her to find her way back into mine and on her own terms.
I release an exasperated sigh and rub the pressure points on my eyebrows. “If your wife hasn’t told you already, that’s a pretty pain-in-the-ass move to pull.”
Antoine chuckles. “She’s informed me on many occasions.”
“How…how long do you think she would have waited for you?” I ask, but deep down, I know the answer.
Forever.