Chapter Twenty-One
DAISY STOOD IN A DARK room, stranded in nothing but a sheer white nightgown and a cream-colored robe.
Her feet were bare, her hair long past her breasts, the way it had been in her youth.
Far ahead, a pin of light infiltrated the darkness.
It caught her attention and she started toward it.
At first, she walked. When the light seemed to drift away, she broke into a sprint, desperate not to lose her only way out.
But her legs couldn’t move fast enough and the light vanished.
Utter gloom swallowed her.
Daisy fell to the ground, wrecked by the sense that she had failed. That light had been her beacon. Then, impossibly, it returned. This time moving toward her and before she could stand to welcome it, the room flooded with radiance. She opened her eyes to find an image from her past:
Herself, younger, in her New York City apartment, turning the small second bedroom into a nursery.
She watched her younger self assemble a crib and fill a bassinet with a handful of stuffed animals.
She watched as she primed herself for a life she hadn’t planned but would fiercely embrace.
Her heart caved when she watched herself cry, tears of sorrow falling as she stared at the room she had put together alone.
All alone.
Daisy remembered that day. Worse, she remembered the feeling.
She had been terrified, more of the questions to come than of motherhood itself.
She feared the day her daughter would ask about her father and the choices Daisy had made to protect her.
Beyond the choice to keep her child, keeping the truth of her parentage a secret had been one of the hardest things she had ever done.
She watched her younger self sink to her knees on the nursery carpet, palms circling the roundness of her belly. She whispered a string of “I’m sorrys” to the small person inside and promised to try her damned hardest to be the best mother she could be.
As Daisy watched, a weight lifted. For years, she’d carried guilt for what her decision had cost. For years, she’d watched her daughter wrestle with why her father didn’t want her, how he supposedly loved her and yet wasn’t there.
A hundred times, Daisy had almost told the truth.
But each time, she remembered his world.
The drugs, the road, the heartbreak. None of it was meant for a child.
So Daisy absorbed the guilt so her daughter could have a normal life.
She looked at the lonely girl on the nursery floor and also felt something else… release. She ached to go back and tell that girl it would be okay. A strong wind blew through her hair. She lifted her face.
Free. Finally free.
She closed her eyes and let the breeze tunnel through her. A sharp snapping sound cracked the calm, and she jolted awake.
It took a moment for the room to settle into place. Her bedroom window had blown open; a brawny gust funneled in. She crossed the room, shut it, and latched it tight. Then she climbed back into bed with a faint smile and drifted under again.
On Tuesday afternoon, Daisy bit her nail while she waited for a certain someone to ring her doorbell.
Jameson was due any minute. She’d wiped down the counters, set out plates for the food he was bringing, and now had the tabloid Anna left behind open on her lap. She was ten pages in when she saw him.
Casual clothes. A Starbucks cup in hand. Walking down a street far too familiar.
Daisy lifted off the couch and brought the magazine close, scanning the background. Her gallery’s street. The exact outfit he’d worn the second time he came in.
Her mouth parted. She’d seen him in several magazines over the years, but this photo was taken a little too close to home.
She hurriedly flipped through the rest of the pages, scanning them for any more stories about him.
When none were found, she flipped back to the page she had spotted him on and read the caption below.
Looks like the heartthrob of rock ’n’ roll is ready to put down roots.
A source close to Jameson Kingston, twenty-eight, says he’s house-hunting in the Bay Area.
Though originally from the UK, Kingston spent his teen years in San Mateo, CA, where he graduated high school.
“He wants to be closer to his mum,” the source says.
Asked whether the move involves rumored love interest Jenna O’Connell, also from Northern California, the source declined to comment.
Knock, knock, knock.
Daisy jumped from her seat at the banging on the door.
She felt like she had been caught snooping into Jameson’s personal life even though the whole world could buy the same magazine.
She set it aside, straightened her sweater, and headed for the door, only to have Amelia zip past her and fling it open.
“Hey, kiddo.”
“Jameson!” Amelia beamed, backing up to let him in. He winked at Daisy and set a hefty bag on the counter.
Something warm and rich drifted out.
“What did you get?” Daisy asked.
He pulled out a foil-wrapped loaf… and then, to her surprise, a large red Crock-Pot. Daisy arched her brow.
“It’s Mum’s beef stew,” he said, plugging it in. “She insisted.”
Daisy grinned despite herself and lifted the lid.
The aroma immediately transported her into the past. Margot’s stew had been the one dish that could go toe-to-toe with her own mother’s.
One breath and she was back at the Kingstons’ table on a Sunday night with a bowl of stew and a slab of cottage loaf.
“That was kind of her. Please tell her thank you.”
Jameson nodded and then threw away the paper bag that had held the food.
“I will. Though she’d prefer to hear it from you.”
They both turned their heads over to where Amelia sat at the island. Her hands were moving rapidly as she colored a picture in her coloring book.
“Maybe,” Daisy said, tucking the plates away and replacing them with glass bowls.
She wanted Amelia to know his family, his whole family, but she needed to tell her the truth about Jameson first.
“I’ll serve,” he said. “You two sit.”
They waited while he dished up the stew. Daisy whimpered—actually whimpered—when the steam hit her face again. When he finally sat, Amelia dug in with her oversized spoon, and Jameson followed suit.
Daisy coughed pointedly. Side by side, they were almost comically similar, both crouched low over their bowls, both with a crescent of stew on the same spot of their upper lip. She fought a smile.
“I think we forgot something.”
Amelia set down her spoon. Jameson blinked. He didn’t get it until Amelia stuck her hand out to him and murmured, “Prayer.”
“Oh.” He took her hand quickly.
“Mom.” Amelia nodded toward Daisy’s free hand.
“Okay.” Daisy reached across and laced her fingers around his. “Amelia, want to do the honors?”
Amelia’s smile bloomed. She bowed her head. “Dear God in Heaven, thank you for this super yummy meal that I may or may not have already tasted.”
Daisy and Jameson tried not to laugh.
“And thank you for our new friend Mr. Jameson. He’s really fun and I like being around him.
I hope he and my mommy stay friends forever.
” Daisy kept her eyes low, a sad half smile tugging at her mouth as she swallowed hard.
“And thank you for my mom because she’s the most amazing mom ever.
Also please tell her we need a puppy or a cat or even a bunny. Amen.”
Jameson squeezed both their hands. “Awesome prayer. I think God heard you loud and clear.”
“I don’t know,” Amelia said. “I’ve been asking for a pet for months and she keeps saying no.”
Daisy held up her hands. “First, this apartment doesn’t allow pets, so you’re a bit out of luck. Second, we don’t have time to take care of an animal.”
Amelia frowned and with puppy-dog eyes cocked her head toward Jameson. “Do you have any pets?”
He nodded once and replied, “Yep, I have a Great Dane named Gus.”
“Really? Do you have pictures?”
“Of course.”
Daisy begrudgingly interjected. “Perhaps Jameson can show you after you’ve eaten your dinner.”
Jameson looked at fault and mouthed, “I’m sorry,” then proceeded to eat his stew. “Speaking of animals, how was the aquarium?”
“We didn’t go,” Amelia said, eyes still on her bowl.
“Why not?”
“Matt had to stay in New York. He said he’d take me when he gets back.” She rolled her eyes. “Whenever that is.”
“I can take you,” Jameson said after a beat. “If it’s okay with your mum.”
Daisy paused mid-bite. Amelia gasped and stared at her, already pleading.
“I don’t know.”
“Mom…”
“Honey, remember when Jameson told you he was famous?”
She nodded.
“And remember when I said not to tell anyone at school because it’s an invasion of his privacy?”
Another nod.
“It would be… complicated to go out with him. The pier is busy and people might—”
“Daisy,” he said gently. “If that’s your only concern, don’t worry. I’ll be completely incognito. Even the best paparazzi won’t clock me.”
Daisy bit her lip. “Let me think about it.”
“But—” Amelia cut in.
“Don’t sass. I said I’ll think about it.”
Jameson winked at Amelia, and they finished in companionable quiet.
Before he left, Daisy made up her mind. He and Amelia were scrolling through photos of an enormous black dog when she said, through gritted teeth, “Yes.”
They both turned, startled.
“Yes, we can go to the aquarium.”
Amelia exploded into a hop-dance around the living room for a full minute.
They picked Friday. Amelia had early dismissal and if they were lucky, there’d be lighter crowds.
“Okay, silly pants,” Daisy said at last.
“I’m just so excited! Jameson, you’re gonna love it. There are otters and stingrays and—”
“You know I’ve been before,” he teased.
“When?”
“In high school. I believe it was the third date I took your mum on.”
Amelia giggled. “You dated my mom?”
He winced, flicking an apologetic glance at Daisy. He expected anger. Instead, he found something softer, sadness edged with longing.