Chapter 20 Daisy
“There’s more,” Sage says, motioning to the table in front of us. “The chairs are still outside, but we’ll bring them in.”
“There are chairs too?” I question, echoing what Sage just said as I run my hand over the beautifully painted surface of the table. It’s covered in rich blue waves mingling with the old, worn wood for this perfect abstract look. Nate’s talent is unmatched.
“Of course there are chairs. You can’t have a table without chairs,” she teases, her tone playful, shaking her head as she comes over to give me a hug. “We wanted to do something special for you, but we also wanted it to be something for you to use when you have us all over.”
“I love it,” I tell Sage, pulling her in for another hug while Miles thanks Nate with a quick handshake and a hug.
Our little house is coming together so perfectly, better than I could have ever expected with the bed that Tanner made for us, and now a kitchen table for all our friends to gather at. We are certainly feeling the love today.
“And we brought you this,” Alana says, letting out a mock-annoyed huff. “Flynn insisted that we get you this complicated coffee maker, telling me that Americans don’t know good coffee.”
Flynn’s resting his elbow on a box wrapped in gold paper and tied with a pink ribbon, which is sitting on the counter in the kitchen. It’s still hard to believe this little rundown, unloved cottage has turned into mine and Miles’s first home.
“Way to give it away, babe,” Flynn says to Alana, tossing an arm around her shoulders. He pulls her closer, kissing her temple.
It feels so good to see all my friends happy and in relationships, with the exception of Kai, and I seriously don’t ever know if that’s going to happen. What he has going with Lisa and the random tourist here or there doesn’t seem promising.
Not that I would want that for Lisa. She deserves better than hookups with Kai. After her divorce, she swore off men but is clearly getting her needs met by doing some friends with benefits.
The guys head outside to bring in the chairs just as Sloane and Owen show up, and she squeals when she sees me.
We’ve been texting a ton lately, trying to come up with a day to meet so we can talk through the branding for the bakery.
She’s going to use working with me as part of her final project in one of her design classes, so while I won’t be paying her, she will get to use it for a final grade. Miles and I both agreed that we will find a way to repay her since her professor said she couldn’t charge for it.
“Oh my god, Daisy, the house looks so cute. Who would have thought in just a few short weeks you’d be able to get it here? But I totally understand the urgency and wanting a place to call your own. It feels so good, right?”
All Sloane ever wanted was a place to call her own after all her time in foster care, and I love that she found it with Owen. He would do anything for her, just like Miles would for me. This cottage and the soon-to-be bakery are proof of that.
“It feels so good,” I tell Sloane, going into the kitchen to unwrap the gift from Alana and Flynn, even though Alana gave it away.
Untying the pink satin ribbon, I tear away the gold paper to reveal a very fancy coffee maker that looks like it needs a manual, but I’ll take Flynn’s word on it that it’s amazing.
“Love these colors together,” I say, more to myself than anything, but Sloane catches it and takes the ribbon and swatch of paper.
“This would be a good start for your branding,” Sloane says, with Sage and Alana standing by to agree. “We could totally do a mix of pinks and some gold, bring in a daisy with a glittery gold center instead of yellow.”
“I love that so much. Pink could be the signature color,” I add, and Alana jumps in, sharing her thoughts.
“And your pink vanilla cupcake is so good. It’s perfect.”
It’s so amazing getting to experience this with them and getting to work with Sloane on the branding. While I know it’s going to be a while before the bakery is up and running, this whole planning process is going to be so much fun.
I don’t feel like my life could be more back on track than it is right now. With Miles here, our relationship in the best place it’s ever been, and now the bakery coming together.
The night with all our friends in our new house is a blast. Lots of food and drinks and laughs, bringing us all together the way we always are.
So when Miles and I climb into bed well after midnight, we’re both exhausted, especially since we have to be up early tomorrow for work.
He has lessons at sunrise, and I’m working the lunch shift at the bar. I’m also meeting with a couple of contractors to discuss the renovations on the bakery. Miles and I have narrowed it down to two, and it all comes down to pricing now.
“First night in our house together,” Miles whispers, the stillness of the room blanketing us.
He pulls the sheets down, exposing my bare skin to the cool night air, his fingers trailing over my sensitive flesh. Goosebumps rise up with the gentle caress of his calloused fingertips, reminding me of all the time he’s spent playing guitar.
His touch will always be home to me, sparking memories of all our time together but also of the time we spent apart. I missed the way his body moved against mine, the way his fingers memorized every curve of my body.
“Where are your other guitars?” I ask him, knowing the one that sits in the corner of the room isn’t his only one.
Of all the videos and pictures on the band’s social media, it seemed like Miles had a different guitar every night. When he left for the tour, he had at least four.
“I sold them,” he replies quickly and casually.
“What do you mean you sold them? Why?”
Propping myself up on my elbow, the soft beam of the moon barely lighting the room, I can see the peaceful ease that crosses his face. He looks like this is where he belongs, and it’s really strange the way this has all played out.
Miles wanted nothing more than for his band to be successful, to take off and tour the world. And that’s exactly what happened, but sometimes you can wish for something, want it so bad, and have it come true. Only to realize life was better before.
But without it, Miles and I wouldn’t be here right now. We wouldn’t know the deep ache of losing each other or the blissful feeling of getting it all back.
“I don’t need them,” he rasps, sleep taking over, and I curl into him. Resting my head on his chest, I listen to the sound of his beating heart.
“Thank you,” I murmur, my lips pressing a soft kiss right over where his heart drums out a steady rhythm.
He doesn’t have to say it. He sold the guitars for money—money that will or has been used to create our life together.
It’s the most selfless and beautiful thing about him.
The way he gives without the expectation of anything in return.
The way he came back and stood silently by while I carried around my anger, fighting my urge to forgive him.
While I dated his friend out of spite and revenge.
I was a horrible person, and his forgiveness means everything. He will never have to question my feelings for him again because I will spend the rest of my life reminding him that I love him more than anyone or anything in this world.
“For what?”
“For this. Our house. The bakery. For forgiving me.”
“Daisy, my life would be nothing without you in it. This wasn’t just your dream. It was our dream—a dream we talked about and a dream I would give anything to make happen. Leaving you was awful, and while I regret it every fucking day, I wouldn’t have been able to make this happen.”
Miles has never told me how much money he made off the album or the tour, but judging by all the sold-out stadiums and the big names the band opened for, it was substantial.
He pulls me closer, and I wish I had the right words to say—the words that would make everything that happened in our past disappear—but all I can do is hold him.
“I love you, Miles.”
“I love you so fucking much, Daze.”
The next morning goes by so quickly, with Miles heading out early for lessons, and I spend it cleaning up the house. We were both so tired after having our friends over that we left everything and went to bed.
It’s just before eleven when I walk into the bar to help Lisa out with the lunch rush, and it’s already starting to get busy.
Jumping right in, I begin running food and taking orders. While the lunch rush is a great time to make tips, nothing beats being here in the evenings. I’ve gotten away from working nights now that Miles is back, and we’re spending our evenings working on the cottage and the bakery.
I’m so lucky to have a boss like Lisa who is supportive of what I’m doing. Without her understanding, I’m not sure I’d be able to keep my job and try to get the bakery up and running.
The time passes quickly, and I’ve only been here for thirty minutes, but it’s packed, and I don’t even hear the door open or see Isaac standing at the end of the bar.
Lisa jabs me in the side with a soft elbow, tilting her head in his direction, and my eyes fall on him waiting, clearly waiting for me.
Letting out a hard sigh, I finish taking the order for the person in front of me before slipping past Lisa.
She stills me with a hand wrapped around my wrist. “You want me to handle this?” she asks, a stoic look on her face.
She knows we can’t throw him out unless he does something stupid, and right now, all he’s doing is standing at the end of the bar.
I shake my head, closing my eyes as I will myself to remain calm, not drawing attention to him, which is exactly what he wants. He wants the entire bar watching us as he gets under my skin, making me look like the asshole.
“Carry out or dining in?” I ask before I even reach him, taking my order pad from the small apron tied around my waist.
“Did you get the note I left you at your house?” he asks me, a smug grin plastered across his face. Smarmy and sick, it’s a question that’s asked with complete disdain and designed to catch me off guard.
And while it does, I try so fucking hard to not let it show on my face.
“Nope,” I simply state, tapping my pen on the edge of the counter. “Did you want to order?”
“You didn’t get my note?” he asks again, and my need to roll my eyes is so strong that I’m giving myself a headache holding back. “Guessing Miles made sure of that.”
“I’m sure he did.” The words come out harsh and without holding back. I don’t want Isaac around anymore.
He’s spent so much time manipulating me, and I let him. I was so broken and hurt that I let it happen repeatedly until I became a shell of myself.
But that’s over, and he’s not winning this. I will not take the bait. He wants an argument. He wants me asking questions. He wants me mad, but more than all of this, he wants to make me question my relationship with Miles.
“Well, that’s disappointing that you didn’t get to see it. It was my housewarming present, especially since you didn’t invite me over.”
I feel my heart beginning to beat faster, harder, an anxiety building in me at his words, almost making me fearful of what he’s done.
If Miles found it first, there’s not a doubt in my mind that he got rid of it. Not out of jealousy or worry that I’d go back to Isaac, but because he knew it would trigger me. He did it to protect me.
When I don’t say anything, feeling my face grow pale, Isaac laughs, condescending and deep, as he looks around to see who is watching us.
“Ask him about it. Bet there’s a reason he didn’t want you to have it. You fucked up, Daisy. You fucked up big time, and I’m not letting you forget that.”
Before I can say anything, he turns on his heel and leaves, leaving me with my thoughts, leaving me to question what he did and why Miles didn’t tell me.
And that’s exactly what he wants.