Chapter Seventeen
IT WAS QUIET, WAY TOO quiet for a Monday morning in her apartment.
No chirping birds outside her window, no usual chatter.
Just silence. It was a pleasant surprise, one Daisy graciously welcomed.
When she pulled back the curtains, she wasn’t met with the sight of Mama Bird and her four minions.
The nest was empty, abandoned. Either the birds had moved on to their next home, or they were simply off doing whatever it was birds did.
Daisy hoped they hadn’t moved on just yet. She and Amelia didn’t even get to say goodbye. They wouldn’t have left without a little warning.
Of course they would. They’re birds. They don’t give a shit about us.
Daisy scoffed at her inner dialogue. She chose to believe the bird clan did, in fact, give a shit about her and would come back one day to bid them farewell. They gave her an odd sense of peace, a sense of home.
After starting a pot of coffee, Daisy padded into Amelia’s room, where the little girl was fast asleep. She watched her daughter’s chest rise and fall and listened to the soft snore bubbling out of her mouth.
There it was. Daisy’s whole world lay right before her. There wasn’t a single thing she wouldn’t do for that little girl. She had her completely wrapped around her finger. Daisy brushed Amelia’s wild hair from her face and gently kissed her forehead.
“Wake up, sleepyhead.”
Amelia pulled from Daisy’s embrace and turned to the other side of the bed.
This battle played out practically every morning.
Daisy would wake Amelia for school, and Amelia would turn away and try to slip back into sleep.
Her daughter’s sleeping habits had been wonderful when she was an infant.
Amelia started sleeping through the night at three months old, a miracle by many standards.
But the miracle had soured with age. She was the queen of sleeping in and refused to wake before her time.
“Amelia, come on, baby. You need to get up for school.”
Amelia grumbled and threw her arms over her head.
“Don’t make me count to three.”
When she still didn’t move, Daisy began the countdown. “One… get up, sweetie… two… Amelia, you better not make me say it… okay, here it goes… three.”
Then Daisy went in for the tickle, Amelia’s least favorite form of torment. Amelia laughed and tried to wiggle free. Daisy tickled until she was on her feet, then let go and watched her run into the bathroom.
Daisy shook her head, grabbed a cup of coffee, and went to get ready herself.
After dropping Amelia at school, Daisy headed to her studio.
Since Jessica only worked Tuesday through Friday, Daisy was on her own.
She unlocked the front doors at precisely nine and headed up to her office.
After setting her belongings on her blonde oak desk, she armed the outdated security chime that notified her if anyone entered the gallery.
Mondays were slow; sometimes tourists wandered in, sometimes phony art enthusiasts asked mundane questions with no intention of buying.
She rarely made a sale on Mondays, which was why she was content holding down the fort.
For the first two hours, Daisy finalized event details and confirmed RSVPs on her attendee list. When she finished, she verified the new DJ with Nicole and sent over a select playlist for Friday.
Just as she hung up, the door chime dinged.
Daisy took a sip of water, slipped into her flats, and headed downstairs.
She was just about to take the last step when she saw him. All six-two of him, staring up at a painting displayed high on the wall. His arms crossed. Wearing a dark brown leather jacket with aviator sunglasses.
I really need to invest in better security equipment, she thought.
With his back still turned, Daisy considered bolting, scurrying back to her office and locking the door.
Hadn’t he seen enough of her? After their uncomfortable run-in on Friday, she was hoping she’d never see the likes of Jameson Kingston again.
But there he was, pivoting his broad shoulders toward her before she could move.
Daisy gave a curt wave and mouthed, “Hi.”
Half his mouth lifted into a smile as he slid off the aviators. “Hi, Daisy.”
Not wanting to be caught in another heated stare down, Daisy dropped her gaze and moved behind the reception desk. “Didn’t think I’d ever see you again. How can I help you?”
Jameson covered the short distance to the desk and rested his folded hands on the counter. “I wanted to finish our… conversation.”
“What conversation?”
“The one we started on Friday.”
Daisy sorted through the folders on the desk. “I don’t recall.”
“The one you ran out on last week.”
“You were always so observant,” she said, dry as sand.
He huffed a laugh. “Anyway, why’d you bolt? I wanted to catch up.”
“Like I said then, I had somewhere to be.”
“Well, do you have somewhere to be now? I’d really like to talk to you, Daisy.”
She licked her lips and met his eyes. The small dimple in his cheek, the one she’d always loved to dip her finger into, caught her short. Amelia had that same dimple, in the exact same spot. That dimple alone was reason enough not to talk with him. Reason enough for him to leave her studio. Now.
“I have to work.”
“Then what about your break?”
“Look, I really don’t want to do this, Jameson. It was… a surprise seeing you on Friday, but I think it’s best you leave.”
He scratched his eyebrow, confused. He clearly wasn’t used to rejection.
“Listen, just ten minutes.”
“No.”
“Fine. Five. Give me five minutes of your time and I promise you’ll never have to see me again.”
Tempting.
A smile inched across his face as he leaned on the desk.
“Jameson…” she warned.
“I’ll come back every day until you say yes.”
“That’s called harassment.”
“No, love—it’s called persistence.”
“I think you Brits have a different meaning of the word.”
He flashed his pearly whites. “Come on, Daisy. You, me, five minutes. What do you say?”
She didn’t speak for a moment. She didn’t want to be alone with him, for Amelia’s sake, and because just looking at him dragged all the old hurt to the surface.
But they were adults now, practically strangers.
And if he kept his promise, after five minutes, she’d never see him again. That would be best for everyone.
“Fine,” she said faintly.
“What was that?”
“I said fine. But not here. There’s a small coffee shop around the corner. It’s called Betty’s. We can meet there tomorrow at two.”
Jameson’s smile widened. He drummed the desk, delighted to have gotten his way. “See you then.”
The seconds slowly ticked by on the gold skeleton clock on Daisy’s desk. She watched carefully as the small hand inched closer to two.
Her heart raced with unapologetic tremors; her eyes twitched at the thought of their meeting. Jameson was not good for her health.
It’s just five minutes, she reminded herself, as she packed up and headed downstairs.
She waved goodbye to Jessica, who had tried, again, to pry for details on Jameson.
Jessica was still taken by him. Daisy wanted to tell her it wouldn’t last long because he was an awful individual, but the words stuck.
In her head, she could demean him; to others, she couldn’t.
At the end of the day, there were more good memories than bad, even if the bad overshadowed all the good.
And he was the father of her child, the most precious gift she’d ever been given, and half of which was him. That alone made Daisy bite her tongue.
“Jessica, I’m leaving for the day.”
“Okay, boss. Have a good one. See you tomorrow.”
After dropping her bag in the trunk, Daisy made the short drive to Betty’s. When she saw no cars in the back lot, fury sparked. If he wasn’t there at exactly two, she was out. Screw his five minutes. He could take that and shove it in a dark, dark place.
She was still thinking a string of lewd comments when she pushed open the door. She waved to Arlene behind the counter, then scanned the small shop. Her mouth fell a little when she saw him in the corner, his back to the door.
He must have been dropped off, Daisy figured, by a driver or security. God, he was so famous now.
He was wearing the same aviator shades as yesterday and a black-and-orange Giants cap. His hair peeked from the sides, curling around his ears. She’d never seen it so long. For all she knew, he could’ve grown it down to his ass at some point.
Oh, his ass. That sure hadn’t changed. Not too big and perfectly pert. She always liked—
Gah… Daisy shook her head roughly. No ass.
She pulled out her chair quickly and set her purse on the edge of the table.
“Talk,” she snapped.
He took off his glasses and replied, “Nice to see you, too.”
“Jameson, please…”
“Okay. Sorry.”
Through hooded lashes she could see he was nervous. Despite everything, she knew him too well: the lip lick, the bite to the inside of his cheek. “Thanks for coming. I… I… How’s everyone? Good, right? You said they were good the other day.”
“Yes,” Daisy said, head tilted and eyes narrowed.
“I heard your brother moved to Asia, right?”
“Yep. Singapore.”
“Work?”
“Yes. And his girlfriend is from there.”
“Does he get to visit often? I mean, that’s pretty far—”
Daisy brusquely interjected. “Look, we don’t have to do this, Jameson,” she cut in. “Enough with the pleasantries. Everything is wonderful. My family’s well. I’m well. You seem well. Let’s get to whatever you need to say.”
Jameson looked down at his folded hands and then glanced around the empty coffee shop before pulling his hat off and running a hand through his thick hair.
Daisy glanced, too. Only Arlene and her husband, Bob.
They wouldn’t know him from Adam. She’d been mindful choosing Betty’s.
It might have been her favorite coffee place, but it wasn’t popular.
Safe. The last thing she needed was a photo of him with a “mystery girl” and someone digging into her life.
God forbid.