Chapter 18 Daisy
It’s move-in day today, and Miles is already at the house getting the last of the painting taken care of. I’m at my mom’s packing up what I have to bring over to the cottage, not caring in the least that all we have is a mattress that will likely be on the floor until we can get furniture.
It’s better than this back-and-forth between my mom’s house and Miles’s place that he shares with Kai.
Especially since Kai is hell-bent on bringing home every girl he picks up on the beach or at a local bar.
Not to mention his casual and carefree sex with my boss.
I’m not sure Kai will ever settle down, enjoying his love-the-one-you’re-with lifestyle.
“You sure you’re ready for this?” I hear my mom’s voice ask, turning to find her standing in the doorway as I sit on the floor filling a suitcase with my clothes.
She stands propped against the frame, her arms folded over her chest, her dark hair pulled back into a low ponytail at the nape of her neck.
My mom has always been gorgeous, and when my dad left, it was devastating, but in the back of my mind, all I longed for was for her to find someone new, someone who would take my dad’s place because she deserved it. She deserved someone great.
It never happened, and as I look at her standing in the doorway, she’s still stunning and hardworking and brilliant. She still deserves someone great, and if the world can align and bring Miles and me back together, I have hope it will still happen for her.
“What do you mean?” I ask her, narrowing my eyes at her question. I’m not even sure I understand what she’s asking.
Of course I’m ready. I’ve been waiting for this day since Miles left almost two years ago. Back then, it felt unattainable, like a far-off dream that would only visit me in my sleep.
She was with me through all the tears and the heartache. She consoled me as I sobbed into my pillow, begging for her to make the hurt stop.
And now she’s asking me a question that feels like I shouldn’t even have to answer. I press my lips together, pushing back the feeling of anger welling up inside me. I don’t want to snap at her because today is supposed to be a happy day.
“I mean, you just broke up with Isaac—” Cutting her off before she can say anything more, I’m on my feet, shaking my head.
“It was never anything with Isaac.” My words come out loud and defensive. I can say this now because hindsight is twenty-twenty. “And anyway, you hated him.”
This is what our relationship has been since I moved back in with my mom all those months ago. It’s been a steady stream of arguments, and this constant need to defend myself and my choices despite being in my twenties.
Now here I am, defending my opportunity to start a life with Miles. This is the last thing I thought I would be arguing with her about. Dropping out of school was an argument. Dating Isaac was an argument. Moving back in with her was an argument.
But this shouldn’t be.
“Will you ever just be happy for me?” I hiss, tears burning my eyes as I angrily force the suitcase closed, yanking the zipper roughly.
Letting out a long, slow breath, summoning all my willpower, I try to push back the anger that continues to flare inside me.
“I am happy for you, Daisy. All I’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy, but I don’t want you to rush into something and find…” She trails off now, looking around my room.
Watching her swallow, her throat bobbing with movement. I see she’s fighting back the tears too.
But for a different reason than me.
“Mom,” I whisper, and that’s all she needs to hear before the tears spill over. “I’m going to be okay. Miles and I…” I can’t finish my thought, struggling to say what I know she’s thinking.
She doesn’t want me to end up like her, but is that really such a bad thing?
I look at her, and all I see is someone who raised two daughters on her own, strong-willed and independent. While I know that’s not the life she expected, it’s the one she built all on her own, one that she should be proud of.
“It’s hard for me,” she says as I walk over to meet her in the doorway. Embracing, we hold each other. “I want you and Miles to have the life you’ve always dreamed of, but I worry. I worry so much after what happened. After he left.”
“I know, and it’s hard for me too. But Miles and I are working through it. We’re going to be okay. We’re going to be better than okay.”
She pulls back, her hands resting on my arms, her expression soft, but her eyes tell a different story. Still filled with the glistening remnants of tears, she forces on a weak smile.
“If you need to come back, you know you can,” she tells me, and I nod, not wanting to think about what that means.
It’s not going to happen, and as much as I want to tell her that, I keep it to myself.
Her life and my life will not mimic each other, but I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about it.
I’ve thought about it a lot since Miles and I have gotten back together, but I can’t live in the past. It’s time to move on.
“Thanks, Mom,” I now say, looking over my shoulder at my bedroom.
I’ve pretty much gotten everything packed up and loaded into my car. The last few things are now in my suitcase that lies on the floor, bursting at the seams.
“Do you need help getting anything over there?” my mom now asks, putting on a brave face.
“I think I’m good.”
Heaving my suitcase off the floor, I tug it behind me, stopping when my mom reaches out to hug me. Pulling me close, she holds me for a few heartbeats, her embrace warm and comforting.
“Things are going to be wonderful for you, Daisy,” she whispers, her words gentle and consciously said. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
I pull around to the back of the cottage. The front door is open, the windows wide too, and I can see Miles moving around in the house.
Waiting, I watch him, smiling as I see him go from room to room, catching a whiff of the fresh paint through the open windows of my Jeep.
It’s still hard to believe this is happening, and I look over at the building in front of the cottage, the one I will someday call my bakery. It still feels like a dream.
Grabbing a few things from the passenger seat of my car, I head into the house, calling out to Miles when I come through the door.
“I’m home!” I yell out, absolutely beaming at the idea as I take in the freshly painted walls.
“What do you think?” Miles asks as he comes out from the bedroom and down the small hallway.
“I love it. What do you think?”
“You kicked ass at picking colors. Everything turned out amazing.” His reply is sweet and complimentary, but I couldn’t have done it without him.
“But none of this would have happened if you hadn’t spent all day painting this week,” I tell him, dropping my things on the floor of the still-empty living room.
“Yeah, we owe my dad, Kai and Nate, because I totally couldn’t have gotten it done without their help.” Miles shakes his head, letting out a hard sigh as he says, “Come see the bedroom.”
Following him down the small hallway, my mouth falls open when I see what is in the middle of the room.
It’s a beautiful four-poster bed frame in a soft-colored wood that matches the floors almost perfectly. And on the bed is the most pristine white bedding I’ve ever seen. It looks like something out of a magazine.
“My dad built it,” Miles states like it’s no big deal. But holy shit, it’s a huge deal. He built a fucking bed with his hands.
“He built it?” I shriek out in question. Tanner is incredibly talented, so it should come as no surprise that he did, but I’m still shocked that he managed to get it done in such a short amount of time, and he also helped paint the house.
“And my mom picked out the bedding and the mattress. They said it was a housewarming gift.” Walking over, he flops down on it dramatically.
“Don’t get it dirty!” I call out, cringing as I watch his sweaty and painted-speckled body fall onto the bedding.
“Oh, we’re definitely getting it dirty,” Miles shouts back, propping himself up on his elbows as he calls me over with a hook of his finger. “Come here, we’re christening this bed.”
But that’s when I catch a glimpse of something in the corner of the room, and for a split second, I feel this rush of anxiety course through me. Sending goosebumps rippling over my skin, I push past the feeling.
Seeing Miles’s guitar in our bedroom, a bedroom we now share together, shouldn’t bring out the worst memories I have. If anything, it should bring back all the wonderful memories I have. I have far more good than bad.
He looks at me, realizing what I’m looking at. He hops up from the bed, striding over to where it sits. Picking it up, he pauses, taking in my face, and we’re suspended in a silence that fills the room.
“I’ll put it away,” he quickly says, his words soft. “I can bring it to my parents’ house or Kai’s…” His words grow quieter with each passing second, trailing off until the silence fills the space once again.
“No,” I whisper, shaking my head. “Play something for me.”
I go over to the bed, sitting down. I pat the space beside me, calling him over, but Miles stays firmly rooted, his guitar in hand.
“You sure?”
“I’m positive,” I reply, waiting for him to join me.
He swallows thickly, giving a slight nod before he joins me on the bed. I watch as he rests his guitar in his lap, running a hand over the scruff on his chiseled jaw. He lets out a hard sigh.
“Okay,” he says, but I can see the nervousness flare in his brown eyes, and I hate that something he loved so much has a connection to something so awful.
“There will never come a time that I don’t want to hear you play,” I tell him, the sincerity lacing my words so deeply that I hope he feels it inside him.
He closes his eyes, his fingers moving over the strings as if he can do it in his sleep, as if his body just knows what to do.
My eyes focus on where his fingers strum loosely, and it brings back so many memories. I remember listening to him play for hours, his fingers bleeding from playing so much. Blistered and then calloused, the feeling of them on my skin would send goosebumps dotting everywhere they touched.
But with each chord, each movement of his fingers, I know the song by heart, and it’s not one of his.
It’s a cover, something he played for me over and over when we were younger.
And while I love the song, letting the lyrics and the deep melodic timbre of his voice wash over me, I don’t want to hear something that isn’t his.
I reach over, covering his hand with mine, and the room goes quiet. Our eyes meet, and I wet my lips. There’s a connection between us that I only feel with him, and it passes between us, electric and unbreakable.
“I want to hear your songs,” I say, my heart hammering in my chest, and when I reach up and rest my hand on his chest, I feel the quick, steady rhythm of his.
Taking in a hard breath, he then pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, almost as if he’s weighing whether he should start playing or if it will drive a wedge between us.
Again, his eyes fall closed, and he begins to strum out the first few bars—chords I’ve never heard, something I don’t recognize as one of his songs.
But before I can tell him this, he says, “It’s new. If we were going to make a second album, it would have been on it.”
With that, he begins to sing, each word burying itself deep inside me. There is nothing more beautiful than his voice, deep and raspy, and despite the sadness to the lyrics, I find myself falling more in love with him.
I remember the night, under the moonlight,
I played that song, holding you so tight.
The guitar cried, like we both knew,
That love can fade, but it’s not through.
Now I’m strumming through the heartache,
Each note reminds me of our memories.
And every memory is your name.
But I swear, I’ll fight for what we had,
Because baby, love can hurt.
You left me standing at that old café,
With tears in my coffee, you just turned away.
I played our tune on a rainy street,
Thought I’d lost you, thought I’d admit defeat.
Now I’m strumming through the heartache,
Each note reminds me of our memories.
And every memory is your name.
But I swear I’ll fight for what we had,
Because baby, love can hurt.
But there you were in the back of my mind,
With that smile that shines like the stars aligned.
We shared a moment when our eyes met,
Every strum of my guitar pulled us closer yet.
Let’s write a new story with every chord,
From heartbreak to laughter, we’ll start again,
With my heart in your hands.
Now I’m strumming through the heartache,
Each note reminds me of our memories.
And every memory is your name.
But I swear I’ll fight for what we had,
Because baby, love can hurt.
So take this guitar, let’s play our song,
Together forever, where we both belong.
From heartbreak to love,
We’ll find our way back to our favorite place.