Chapter 30 Daisy
It’s been about two weeks since Miles reached out to the band, confirming what I suspected all along. While they struggled immensely with the tour and the fame, they all missed being together, being together as a band making music.
The day they all met up here on Maui, Miles was gone for the entire afternoon and night, texting me updates constantly, telling me how they were having a great time catching up. When he finally came home, well into the morning, with the sky still dark, he picked up his guitar and started to play.
There was nothing I wanted to hear more than the sound of his voice and the rhythm as his fingers strummed on the guitar.
He needs me, but he also needs the band, and this time will be different because we’re different people. We have learned so much about ourselves and that being apart isn’t what we need. What we need is each other.
And when he stopped playing, in the darkness of our bedroom, he whispered that he loved me. The moment was real and raw, but heartbreakingly beautiful, and all I could do was ask him to keep playing.
It’s crazy that the band is getting back together, or more nights at the bar.
It will be a bit before anything gets going since Miles made it clear that he wants to be here to support me in the opening of the bakery. He plans to spend the first month or so just helping me work through all the growing pains a new business faces. We both know there will be a lot.
The band did agree to play their first show, if you want to call it that, for Lisa since she was the first place they played all those years ago.
It’s sweet and nostalgic, but more than that, it’s comforting for them—playing here where they all grew up, where it all started. It’s like going back home again.
I haven’t gotten to meet up with any of them, too consumed with the bakery and still working at the bar, but I think about them often, especially Lacey.
The first time I heard her play, I was awestruck. While we went to school together, she didn’t run with our crowd—not the surfing type.
She was always into music, growing up with a famous drummer for a father. But more than that, she spent any free time she had with Jonah, her best friend, learning sign language for him and teaching him to play the drums too.
She was a loner—quiet and gorgeous—but with this gives-no-fucks punk rock attitude with deep brown hair and bright blue eyes. She’d been playing the drums since she was little, basically a legacy, and in my own mind, I knew she would be the reason the band made it big.
We’d be at shows, and I’d hear guys make disgusting comments about her, yelling at her to show her tits, or that she should be serving them beers, not playing, and she wouldn’t even flinch.
And there were girls who would tell me to watch out for her, be jealous, because any girl who is in a band with guys wants only one thing.
I used to respond that she wanted to make music, but that wasn’t the narrative they were spinning, and I was never jealous of Lacey. If anything, I was inspired by her, longing to one day be as fucking cool as she was.
As she still probably is.
I’m taking inventory, making sure I have everything I need for the opening that is now only a couple of weeks away, when Miles walks in.
He has a massive smile on his face, and I cock my head to the side, taking him in, curious as to what has him so happy.
“What’s up?” I ask, narrowing my eyes, and he lets out a deep chuckle.
“You know how everything on the island takes forever?” he says, and I nod. “Well, not sure how the hell this happened, but they’re about to deliver your sign, like, right now.”
“What?” I squeal, throwing the pen I’m holding and bolting for the front door of the bakery. “It’s two weeks early!”
Miles follows me out front to where we find a waiting truck along with two men, and I feel like I want to scream out loud.
“Here to install a sign,” one of the guys says, totally oblivious to my excitement.
He’s probably done this a million times in the last year, unaware of the changes and growth that are taking place in front of him.
Unaware of how much my life is about to change and he gets to be a part of that, but it doesn’t matter to him.
He collects a paycheck, and I live out my dream.
“You’re early,” I tell him, and again with the indifference despite the high-pitched tone of my voice.
Looking down at the clipboard he’s holding, he looks up at me and says nothing, just shoving the clipboard toward me and pointing to where I need to sign.
A little bright green tab in all the places, and a part of me wants to ask him if I can keep the tabs too, a reminder of the first major thing I’ve signed my name on in all of this.
Miles owns the building. Essentially, he’s my landlord, but we both know that isn’t true. He may have bought it, signed for it, and presented it to me, but it’s mine.
My name on the sign.
My dream coming true.
And he’s letting me have all the creative control, something I will never be able to thank him enough for.
Miles wraps an arm around my shoulders as we watch the men load the sign onto a crane, lifting it up so it’s centered on the building, but it’s still covered with a dark green tarp.
We haven’t seen it, and I turn to Miles and say, “What if it’s the wrong sign? What if they’re about to hang up a sign that says, ‘Pussy Cat Gentlemen’s Club’ or ‘Australian Bush Company’ in reference to a strip club because they got the wrong island, and that’s why it’s early?”
He turns to look at me, slow blinking, his face a wash with mock annoyance. “You can’t be serious, right?”
“I am. I’m in panic mode, Miles. This place is opening soon, and what if this is all fucked up?”
“I hope the sign does say ‘Australian Bush Company’ because that’s fucking hilarious. You should trademark that shit and sell it to someone opening a club in Australia,” Miles teases, but I’m not laughing.
If anything, I’m this mix of nervousness and fear, excitement and anxiety, feeling like I might puke right here on the sidewalk.
That is, if my knees don’t give out first because when they remove the tarp, I nearly lose it.
Seeing it for the first time, right here in front of me, real and life-size, is more than I ever expected. Sloane’s design is coming to life, and I can’t hold back the tears.
There’s my name, big and bold for everyone to see.
“What do you think?” Miles asks, pulling me close. He drops a kiss to the top of my head. “The first time I saw the band’s name on a marquee, I wanted to cry too.”
His admission has the tears flowing even more. I sniff, swiping a hand at my now-wet cheeks.
Holding me tighter, we watch the guys put the last few mounting brackets up and attach the sign. And that’s it. Simple and quick, but in my mind, we’ve been standing here for hours.
A delayed response, but I’m sure he understands. I answer back with, “I have no words.” And I really don’t.
It feels unreal, like a dream, and I’ll wake up any moment, wishing like hell I could go back to sleep and relive it.
Like he can read my thoughts, he says, “It’s real, Daze.”
All I can do is nod, a feeling of being overwhelmed taking over as we stand together, just staring at the sign.
We don’t speak, a companionable silence passing between us as we just enjoy this moment. There is no one else in the world that I would want to share this with than him.
I wasn’t with Miles the first time he played a sold-out show or when he saw the band’s name on a marquee, but I was there the first time his song played on the radio, and it’s a feeling I will never forget.
This is a day right up there with it too.
The truck pulls away, and I turn, waving at the guys like a total fool, but between the nervousness and fear, there’s just pure excitement.
“You are too much,” Miles jokes, but the smile falls from his face within seconds.
I quickly look to where his eyes are now focused, and standing across the street is Isaac.
“Sign looks great,” he says, this disgusting twist of sourness to his words. “Hundred feet,” he adds smugly before walking away.
He knows exactly what he’s doing, skating a fine line between legal and illegal, never crossing over because he knows I’ll call the police.
But he’s also trying to get a rise out of Miles, just like he has been the whole time we’ve been back together.
Pushing Miles to his breaking point is what Isaac wants. He wants revenge, and getting Miles to act on his impulse to kick the shit out of him means Miles will get arrested. It would all negate the restraining order too.
“Miles, no,” I say, resting my hand on his cheek, trying to bring him back to me. “We talked about this. He wants you angry, and right now you’re giving him that.”
With his hands clenched in fists at his side, his jaw tense, and his eyes burning with fire, I know he wants to go after Isaac. But it isn’t going to fix anything.
“I’m going to kill that motherfucker,” Miles shouts, and Isaac stops, walking back toward us.
“That a threat, bro?” he hisses, again staying just far enough away for it to matter. “Because you know…” Trailing off, hitting us with a slimy smile. “Would hate to see you end up in jail before the opening of the bakery, right, Daisy?”
“Take her fucking name out of your mouth,” Miles yells, pointing a harsh finger, and this is awful. A screaming contest between two grown men, and while I understand how much stress this is placing on Miles and me, this isn’t the way to handle it.
When we filed for the restraining order, the officer specifically told us not to engage with Isaac in any way, but here Miles is, shouting at him, provoking him.
“No more,” I murmur, my heart slamming hard, palms beginning to sweat, fearing I’ll have to break up a fight between the two of them.
Honestly, I’m still shocked that Isaac hasn’t filed charges against Kai and Miles for the beating he took a few weeks back. I’m waiting for it to happen, walking on eggshells, trying not to provoke him. But here’s Miles, doing everything he can to make that happen.
“Seriously, Miles,” I bark, grabbing him by the wrist and yanking him toward the door of the bakery. “Knock it off.”
He stays firmly rooted where he stands, waiting for Isaac to leave, but again, it’s a pissing contest, and the only way to end it is to force Miles back inside.
“Miles,” I spit out, his name said on a hard exhale, and he turns to look at me. Our eyes connect, and I can tell I’ve reached him. “No more.”
I shake my head softly, swallowing hard as I fight back the tears. He can sense my unease, my fear, and this time when I tug him, he follows.
“Tell Lacey I said hi,” Isaac yells just as the door is about to close behind us. Miles stops, closing his eyes, he takes in a deep breath, letting it out slowly.
It’s obvious he’s not just following me, but Miles too. There’s no way he would know that Lacey is back on the island unless he saw her meet up with Miles. Again, it’s just another thing Isaac is doing to up the creepy factor.
Stepping over, I lock the door, even though I know it won’t stop Isaac from showing up. At least it will keep him from coming in if he chooses to violate the restraining order, but it will also slow Miles down if he tries to go after him.
“Fuck,” Miles spits out, dragging a hand through his hair. “I want to fucking kill him, Daisy.”
“You don’t.”
“I do. I fucking do. You have no idea what…” He doesn’t finish his thought. Just covering his face with his hands, he takes in a few deep breaths.
“He doesn’t get to ruin this for us,” I say, meaning it. I’m tired of letting him control everything good that is happening in our lives. “Let it go. Stop giving him fuel, or he’s going to keep coming back.”
I get it, though. I want to beat the shit out of Isaac too, but we’ve been there and done that with no changes.
“I can’t let it go, Daisy. If he hurts you…” Again, he fails to complete this thought, but he doesn’t need to. We both know how scary this situation has been, but I just can’t see Isaac taking things any further than just being a pain in the ass.
He’s a chicken shit. All talk.
And he’s not going to ruin this day for me.
My fucking sign is up.
“My sign is up,” I tell Miles, breaking the tension, and I see his shoulders relax, a loose smile on his lips.
“It is.”