Chapter Eighteen
Amelia had woken the morning prior with a sore throat and an aching stomach. She’d willed herself better for her mother’s big party the next day, but wishing did nothing. She still felt awful.
Amelia cried into her pillow when Daisy shook her head. “You still have a fever, baby girl.”
“Noooo, I’m better, I promise,” she blubbered, tears streaking her pale face. “I want to go to the party. I want to wear my pretty dress.”
Amelia had picked out the prettiest pale blue dress for the occasion and had been itching to wear it since the day she brought it home.
She had told everyone at school about the sparkles and little white flowers down the side.
Now that she was sick, Daisy had to put her foot down and make her rest, even though it pained her to do so.
“You’ll just get sicker if you come, honey.”
Amelia struggled to sit up. “But I feel better than yesterday. Please, Mommy?”
It was those big blue puppy-dog eyes that did Daisy in. She glanced toward her mother, who leaned in the doorway, then back at Amelia. “Tell you what. If you rest today and you’re better tonight, maybe you and Nani can stop by for a few minutes.”
Amelia’s mouth almost curved into a smile. It hurt to see that much hope. Daisy knew it might be shattered when the cold medicine knocked her out and she slept straight through.
“Really?”
“Yes, but I need you to rest. And don’t be sad if you can’t come. Mommy will have other parties.”
Amelia hiccupped a sob, muffled an “Okay,” and rolled onto her side. Daisy kissed her warm forehead, then followed her mom into the hallway.
“How do you feel?” Daisy asked.
“I’m fine. Just recovering from the same bug. I think your father is the culprit.”
“What do you mean?”
“He had this cold last week. Then he passed it to me. Now to Amelia. Sorry I’ll miss your event.”
“Don’t worry, Mom. Thank you for watching her.”
“Of course, honey. Have fun. And who knows, maybe we’ll make a miraculous recovery by night’s end and stop by.”
“Yes, maybe.”
She arrived at the studio hours early. Nicole met her at the door, itinerary in hand.
The reception desk had been transformed into a full-service bar; a DJ was setting up beside it.
Daisy anticipated a big night. Several bloggers and columnists were coming, and she needed everything to go perfectly.
Her best pieces were up; she and Jess had spent most of the week curating and priming the gallery.
With less than an hour to go, Daisy introduced herself to the doorman, who’d be checking names, and to the waitstaff circulating platters of hors d’oeuvres.
Then she slipped into her office to change into a long-sleeved white cocktail dress and nude pumps.
A quick touch-up on hair and makeup, and it was time.
An hour in and the studio thrummed. Friends, past clients, and a handful of Bay Area elites packed the room. She couldn’t have asked for a better turnout. She floated from cluster to cluster, answering questions and telling the stories behind her work.
“Anna!”
Her best friend, glittering in a short silver dress, hugged her. Behind her stood a very attractive man with short dark hair and warm mocha skin.
“Friend of yours?” Daisy whispered.
Anna pulled back, brows waggling. “This is Jean-Luc.”
Jean-Luc extended his hand. Daisy shook, flicking a look at Anna and then at the man she’d never heard mentioned.
“Pleasure to meet you, Daisy. Your work is amazing,” he said in an accent Daisy couldn’t place, and loved immediately.
“Thank you, Jean-Luc.”
“He works at the law firm I’m at every other week. He’s a mediator,” Anna said, pressing closer to him.
Leave it to Anna to bring someone who might be helping with her divorce. “You’re not her mediator, right?”
Both laughed, shaking their heads. “Of course not,” Jean-Luc said. “Conflict of interest.”
“Well, since this is the first I’m hearing of you, I was left to assume.”
“It’s new. Like… first-date new.”
“Then she must like you. First date and you’re meeting the best friend.”
“Starting strong,” he said.
After a few minutes, Jean-Luc excused himself to the restroom. When he was out of earshot, Daisy shot Anna a look that said explain. Anna tugged her to a less-crowded area toward the front of the gallery.
“It’s not a big deal.”
“Isn’t it? The last time I checked, you were still married.”
“Barely,” she mumbled.
“Still. Wasn’t it only a few days ago you asked my mother’s opinion on sleeping with Vaughn?”
“Oh God, please don’t speak of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.”
“Really? We’re going full Harry Potter?”
She ignored that. “I don’t want your judgment, Daisy. I need your support.”
Daisy bit back the lecture. While she was in no place to judge, she did care about her psyche. Call her crazy, but Daisy didn’t think it was a great idea to start dating a new guy while involved in a nasty divorce.
Instead, she laid a hand on her arm. “I will always support you. Even through your questionable life decisions.”
“I can live with that.” Anna pulled her into a bear hug and held on for a long time. And whereas Daisy loved affection, she didn’t think this party was the time or place for Anna to so thoroughly express hers. Daisy felt Anna hug her tighter and felt a short gasp rocket through her body.
“Are you okay?”
Anna slowly pulled back. But instead of looking at Daisy, her eyes were fixating toward the door. In fact, it seemed that the entire party had taken a quiet turn and everyone was looking in the same direction.
Daisy followed their gaze.
She didn’t gasp. Didn’t flinch. Because she wasn’t all that surprised.
She’d thought he’d honor their bargain, but who was she kidding? Jameson Kingston had always been hardheaded. He’d fight tooth and nail for what he wanted. And apparently, being a cold-hearted bitch hadn’t dissuaded him from wanting to reconnect with her.
A frown pulled at Daisy’s mouth as Jameson spotted her from the entrance. He bit his bottom lip like a boy caught in trouble and started toward her. She tried to hold the glare, but it slipped when she saw the man just behind him.
Lenny Kingston. And he hadn’t changed one bit.
While Jameson had filled out, boyish edges carved into something rougher, Lenny still wore the same baby face and bright, cheeky smile.
Lenny pushed past Jameson and wrapped Daisy in his lanky arms. “My, my, my, Miss Daniels. How I’ve missed you!”
“Hi, Lenny!” She squeezed him back.
“What’s it been… ten years?”
“Not quite, but it feels like it. How are you?”
“You haven’t heard? I thought our lives weren’t so secret to anyone.”
Daisy glanced at Anna, whose face had gone stone. Arms folded, eyes shooting daggers at the man standing anxiously behind Lenny.
“I don’t read tabloids much,” Daisy said.
“Yeah, she doesn’t give a flying f—”
“Anna!”
She cut a look from Daisy to Lenny to Jameson, scowled, flipped her hair, and stomped away.
Lenny squinted after her. “Wow. Remember when we couldn’t get her to shut up?”
Daisy laughed, nervous. “Sometimes that Anna still shows up.”
“Anyway,” he said, taking in the crowd. “I’d ask how you’ve been, but it’s clear you’re doing well.”
“Yes. This is my event.” She peeked around Lenny at Jameson. “My event I’m almost positive neither of you was invited to.”
Jameson stepped up beside his cousin, sly smile in place, and pulled an invitation from his back pocket.
Daisy’s eyes widened. “Where’d you get that?”
“You left it the other day when you… ran away from me. Again.”
She frowned. She hadn’t left an invitation, she hadn’t even mentioned… her train of thought suddenly stopped. “When I dropped my purse?”
Lenny’s head snapped between them. “Oh. I didn’t realize it fell out. I assumed you left it on purpose.” He tapped the line Daisy and Nicole had debated including: “All past clients welcome.” He slid the card away. “And as of last week, I’m pretty sure I qualify.”
She wanted to argue, but he was right. He and his… companion had bought one of her most expensive pieces. That alone earned him entry.
“Well, I suppose you are correct, though I much prefer the presence of your girlfriend over you.”
Lenny busted up laughing while Jameson stood firm shaking his head. “Jenna is not my girlfriend.”
“Girlfriend, lover, side-piece, I really don’t care. All I know is that I’d rather her be here than you. Now if you’d both excuse me, I do have invited guests to entertain.”
She hated storming off, especially from Lenny, who’d only ever been kind, but she knew why Jameson had brought him. He thought Lenny would soften her reaction. He wasn’t wrong.
Daisy scurried away into the restroom, desperate to gather her thoughts, away from prying eyes.
She stood in the single stall for a few minutes; she had to allow adequate time for her heart rate to decrease and for her nerves to subside.
She must have thought a million times, I’m so glad Amelia isn’t here.
She washed her hands, squared her shoulders, and marched out—into a hard chest.
“I’m so sor—” she began, then realized whose chest she hit. “Jameson?”
“Hi.”
“Please leave me alone. I can’t deal with you right now.”
“But I have a question about a piece I’m interested in.”
Daisy rolled her eyes. “I don’t think—”
“Please,” he said, gentle. “Just a moment of your time.”
She waited a beat, then nodded once. He started to walk and she reluctantly followed.
They walked past piece after piece until he stopped in front of one that knocked the air from her lungs.
It wasn’t the artwork that had her holding in emotion, but the simple fact that Jameson stared, rapt, at a painting of the little girl he helped create.
Blush-pink and brown swirled into dark hair; pale yellow skin; eyes a mystic blue.
A profile, hair whipping across her face, gaze looking straight into the soul of its observer.