Chapter Fifteen #2
“Or else I’ll actually make you work.”
Jessica gasped theatrically. “You wouldn’t dare.”
Their banter was the scaffolding of the place, familiar and easy. Jessica had started as a receptionist, but over the years, she had become something else: a co-conspirator of sorts. She loved the work, wanted the gallery to thrive, and cared about Daisy more than an hourly paycheck asked her to.
“How was Nicole?” Jessica asked, dropping back into her chair.
“Good, but the DJ flaked.”
“Fine by me. He wasn’t even that hot.”
“You know him?”
“No. But I stalked him on socials, and we can do better.”
“Aren’t you dating someone? Jeremy? Jerry?”
“Wendell.”
“Wow. I was way off.”
“Yes and yes, I’m dating him, but it’s not exclusive.”
“Is it ever?”
Jessica flipped her long braids. “Don’t start with me, Miss ‘I only commit to my boyfriend when he’s in town.’”
“On that note, I’m going upstairs.”
As Daisy turned, Jessica muttered under her breath, “Some dude must’ve really done a number on you.”
She doesn’t know the half of it.
The next three hours vanished into budgets and vendor confirmations.
Daisy loved being a small-business owner; but she also missed the days when painting was the whole day.
Responsibility had weight now—people on payroll, collectors to call back, and an event to land perfectly.
If she was successful, then they were successful. She didn’t take that lightly.
When the numbers began to blur, she took a break. She traded her fitted black dress for paint-splattered cutoffs and padded barefoot onto the tarp in the corner she called her “solace.” With her oils laid out, she closed her eyes, slowed her breath, and picked up where she’d left off.
On the canvas, a green tree shouldered in from the left, heavy with branches.
In the crook of the center was a nest. The four chicks she had come to love were rendered with more joy than reality could contain.
Mitchell and Ally mid-flutter, Poppy chirping too loud, and Mama with wings thrown wide, welcoming Kevin back beneath her.
She titled it The Return.
Just looking at it prickled her eyes.
Suddenly, the office line rang. Daisy wiped her hands and snatched the phone. “Hey, Jess.”
“Hello, Miss Daniels. Your presence is requested in the gallery.”
Daisy snorted. Their code. Jessica only went formal when someone notable appeared. “How famous?”
“Very.”
“Man or woman?”
“Yes.”
That… was not an answer. “Be down in five.”
She heard her say, “Yes, ma’am,” and disconnect the line.
Celebrity drop-ins weren’t uncommon anymore. A few high-profile clients had collected her work and sent their friends; still, there’d been a tremor in Jessica’s voice she didn’t hear often.
Daisy slipped back into her dress and knee-high boots and headed down. Jessica was stunned silent behind the desk. Daisy arched a curious brow and crossed the room toward a tall woman with dark-blonde hair studying the back wall.
Model, Daisy thought as the woman turned. Striking face. Rail-thin. Not one Daisy recognized, though Jessica clearly did.
“Hi. I’m Daisy Daniels, the artist.”
The woman lit up and clasped Daisy’s hand. “Such a pleasure. I’m a huge fan. I’m Jenna O’Connell.” She paused for recognition that didn’t come, then carried on with practiced fawning. Daisy’s pulse stayed even. She’d spent enough time around self-impressed fame to be immune.
“The pleasure’s mine, Miss O’Connell,” Daisy said. “Are there—”
“I think you know a friend of mine,” Jenna cut in. “Allison Hartmire?”
Daisy nodded. “Yes, she’s a client.” Allison had recently bought one of Daisy’s more romantic pieces.
“Right. I was at her annual holiday party this past December, you’ve surely heard of it,” Jenna added breezily.
Daisy had not. “Anyway, she had this exquisite painting hanging over her dresser. Off-limits room, obviously, but we’re close,” she said with a wink.
“When she said the artist was based in San Francisco, I knew I had to stop by the next time I was in town.”
“Well, thank you for the compliment and for coming in. What brings you to San Francisco?”
“I grew up in the Bay, but I’m here with a friend, actually. Not sure where he ran off to. He must be as taken with your work as I am. One sec—” She lifted her voice around the corner. “Hey, come meet the artist.”
With her hands placed in front of her, Daisy swiveled toward Jess, scrunching her face in confusion.
Jess was trying to mouth something from a distance, but her words wouldn’t resolve.
She couldn’t understand her excitement over Jenna O’Connell, especially when better known people had visited the gallery and elicited a much more subdued reaction from Jess.
But then it all happened in slow motion.
Daisy was still turned toward Jessica when she witnessed her eyes go wide with wonder and her body come to a complete standstill. The footsteps announced them first; quick heels on wood, and then a heavier tread beside them.
Jessica’s excitement instantly made sense. She wasn’t freaking out over the unknown model, but rather the man who now stood to her right.
He was a foot away.
Him.
The boy she had loved and lost turned into a man the world now claimed. Covers, campaigns, late-night interviews, stadiums. And still, somehow, the same eyes.
“Daisy,” Jenna sang. “This is—”
“Jameson,” Daisy said before she could stop herself. Not a question. A statement pulled up from someplace she rarely let herself go.
Jenna’s hand slid proudly along his arm. “Of course you know who he is. James, this is—”
“Daisy Daniels,” he said softly.
She kept her hands still so the tremor wouldn’t betray her. She could not believe that after nine years, they were breathing the same air.
Silence stretched. Daisy and Jameson stared, shock and something else flickering between them, until Jenna broke in, puzzled. “I’m sorry, do you two know each other?”
Daisy looked at Jenna, then back at Jameson. Do I know him?
Once.
A lifetime ago.
The man in front of her, she didn’t know at all.
“Yes,” Jameson said, the corner of his mouth twitching. “We do.”
“Oh? How?” Jenna nudged closer to him, possessive.
“Uhh, we… uhh, knew each other… uhh…” He stumbled over his words. Which from the expression on Jenna’s face didn’t happen often.
“We went to high school together,” Daisy supplied, gaze steady. She didn’t miss his flinch. They had been much more than classmates, but Jenna didn’t need those particulars. What was I supposed to say—he knocked me up once?
“Oh! I thought you were from England,” Jenna said brightly to him.
“I am,” he answered, eyes never leaving Daisy. “I went to school in San Mateo.”
Jenna shrugged and drifted toward the back wall again, apparently bored with the conversation.
“Wow,” he breathed, raking a hand through his raven hair. His eyes swept the space, then returned to her. “I can’t believe this. All of it.” He gestured at the studio, remembering what she’d wanted once upon a time. “How’ve you been, Daisy?”
“Fine,” she said, crossing her arms, almost to protect herself.
“And your family?”
“Great. They’re in the city now.”
“Right. Mum said your folks moved up here soon after—” He didn’t finish.
Soon after you left.
“And Sean?”
“Everyone’s fine,” she said, sharper than she meant to.
He nodded, crossing his arms to mirror her. She focused on his beat-up black Converse—unexpected on Jameson Kingston, who had modeled in Calvin Klein and for Gucci fragrance. The scuffed rubber threw her for a second.
“I’ve been meaning to reach out,” he said quietly. “This last year, I—”
“I’ve got to go.” The words escaped before she could catch them. Survival instinct.
He winced. “I—”
“Excuse me,” she murmured, already moving. She stopped beside Jenna. “It was a pleasure meeting you. If you have questions, Jessica can help. She’ll arrange the purchase and shipping.”
“Lovely to meet you, too,” Jenna chirped, already absorbed in a landscape.
Daisy climbed the stairs to her office on shaky legs, grabbed her purse, waved a dazed goodbye to Jessica, and walked quickly to her car. She drove a mile and a half before pulling to the curb and letting herself do something she hadn’t in a very long time.
She cried.