Chapter Twenty-Four
LIFE EASED INTO A RHYTHM, as normal as it could be with Jameson suddenly part of their daily lives. Daisy expected he’d stop in once or twice a week, when his other obligations left room. But that wasn’t the case.
After he’d left their house on Saturday, Jameson was texting Daisy first thing Sunday morning, already asking to see his daughter.
That persistence carried through the week.
He showed up before seven on most mornings to see Amelia off to school, disappeared during the day, then came back for dinner and often stayed until she went to bed.
Daisy knew he had to be running on empty. His effort was genuine, but unsustainable if she stayed silent.
“You don’t have to come over so often, you know,” she said Thursday night as they cleaned up dinner. With Amelia in the bath, the kitchen belonged just to them.
“Have you ever considered that I want to?” Jameson asked.
Daisy dipped her hand into the murky dishwater and sponged the pan she’d cooked on. “Parenting is exhausting. Pace yourself. These early mornings and late nights will wear you down until this isn’t fun anymore.”
She handed him the pan to dry. “I’m a rock star, Daisy. I’ve gone weeks without sleep.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, but you’re not that kind of rock star anymore.”
Jameson stopped mid-dry. “And what does that mean?”
“It means you no longer use certain stimulants to keep you awake,” she said gently.
He grinned at the soft way she put it. “Very true. But I still want to be here, unless you say otherwise.”
“No,” she said too quickly. “Amelia loves having you. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to be here all the time. I know you’re busy.”
“Not really,” he answered.
Daisy looked at him, suspicious.
“Yes, I have a busy life, but what do you think I do all day when you’re at the studio and Amelia is at school? I work, I write music, and I’m still trying to find a damn house.”
They were about to talk about the house search when Amelia, wrapped in a fluffy yellow robe, appeared in the doorway. “You’re moving out of your mom’s house?”
Daisy and Jameson turned. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough. Now tell me, are you moving?”
“Yes. A grown man can’t live with his mother forever.”
“Where are you going? Not back to LA, right?” she asked, sadness flickering across her face.
“Of course not.” He crouched to her level. “How could I leave my best girl? I’m looking for homes near my mum. Actually, I was hoping you and your mum would come this weekend to view a few contenders. I want you to love it, too.”
“Can your doggie come?” Amelia pleaded, batting her eyelashes.
“I don’t think Gus can make the trip, but I’ll make sure you meet him real soon.”
“Okay, I can’t wait!” Amelia squealed. “It’s okay if we go, right, Mom?”
Daisy smiled, cautious and small. “Yes. We can go.”
Daisy stared out the SUV window as they drove through the affluent hills of Hillsborough, California. Jameson’s realtor spoke, too many details bleeding past, about schools and acreage and proximity to his mother. It was only twenty-five minutes from the city; close enough but still removed.
Hilda Beck had been Margot’s realtor. She’d helped Margot buy her home and was confident she could find Jameson everything he wanted.
The first two houses had been busts. Immaculate, expensive, and exactly what Daisy expected, but Amelia vetoed both because the distance between her room and Jameson’s was too great.
Daisy learned quickly that Jameson didn’t care which house he took; he only wanted Amelia’s approval.
So Hilda directed most of her salesmanship to the little girl.
“You’re going to love this one, sweetie. Five bedrooms, five baths, and the room that will likely be yours has a charming view and a treehouse right outside your window, and it’s close to the primary suite,” Hilda promised.
“Finally,” Amelia mumbled.
“And the property is almost two acres… plenty of room for more kiddos,” Hilda added, eyes flicking between Jameson and Daisy. Both their faces warmed. “Two Jacuzzis, one near the pool, and one off the primary’s balcony. Very romantic.”
Daisy coughed, awkward.
When the gate opened onto the drive, she was surprised to find the exterior much more understated than the last two, grand but quieter, which she liked.
Before Hilda climbed out of the passenger seat, she remarked, “Oh, and this one is on the lower end of your budget.”
Daisy gaped at the eight-figure price tag Hilda casually rattled off. Must be nice. Her parents had money, but this was a different kind of wealth. Wealth that didn’t blink at eight figures and bought multiple homes in different cities.
They followed Hilda into the entry. The foyer’s ceiling rose impossibly high. A library opened to the right; a long hallway led to a kitchen that overlooked the backyard. It was like they were stepping into a piece of history.
Amelia burst through the sliding glass door and ran out into the yard. The pool was Olympic in scale, and the stretch of grass behind it ran back to tennis and basketball courts.
It was massive. Daisy felt a flicker of envy at what she’d never be able to give Amelia. She chased the thought away and watched her daughter frolic.
“Be careful, Amelia. You wouldn’t want to fall in,” Jameson called from the veranda.
She returned, breathless. “Where’s my room?” she asked Hilda.
“Be patient, sweetie,” Daisy said.
They toured the downstairs guest room and movie theater, then climbed one of two staircases to what would likely be her bedroom. It was painted in princess pastels; the ceiling a parade of mystical creatures. Amelia was mesmerized. So was Daisy.
“This is it. I love this house. We’ll take it!” Amelia declared.
“Amelia, you can’t choose a house solely based on your room,” Daisy warned.
“Then let’s hurry and see the other rooms,” Amelia said, impatient.
They saw two more bedrooms and then opened the double doors to the primary suite. The room unfolded into a private living space, a wet bar, and a balcony with an outlying view of the Pacific.
“And this is the Jacuzzi I mentioned,” Hilda announced, unveiling the bubbling spa on the balcony. “As I said, very romantic.”
Daisy’s insides curled. She instantly pictured Jameson with a woman, lounging in that Jacuzzi, sipping champagne. Jealousy prickled hot and ridiculous.
“I don’t like it,” she said, stunned that she actually verbalized her opinion.
Three heads turned. “But it’s awesome, Mom. Who has a Jacuzzi on their balcony?” Amelia asked, astonished.
“It can always be removed,” Hilda said smoothly. “May I ask why you’re not fond of it?”
Daisy shrugged and lied, “Just seems a little tacky and dangerous.”
They watched her. Jameson’s smirk told her he knew exactly how jealous she sounded. Her cheeks burned.
“It doesn’t matter. It’s not my house,” she mumbled.
As Hilda steered them toward the gym, Daisy slipped away, needing to get her feelings in order. She wandered until she found an empty guest room, then paced until she felt calm. The house swallowed her; she felt small in its magnificence.
“So? What do you think?” Jameson’s voice asked behind her.
Startled, she put a hand over her heart. “You scared me.”
“Sorry.” He paused. “Hilda took Amelia back out to see the grotto.”
“Okay.”
“So? What do you really think?”
Daisy let out a soft breath. “It’s the most beautiful house I’ve ever been in.”
Jameson’s smile was wide. “Good. I want you to like it.”
“My opinion shouldn’t matter. Do you like it?”
He ignored the rhetorical tilt. “It does matter. I want this to feel like your home, too.”
“I have a home. It’s nothing like this, but it’s my home.”
“I know. But you never know where life will take—”
“Jameson, please.” She cut him off. “I like this place, and Amelia loves it. If you like it, you should get it. Do you?”
He stared at her for a long second and then nodded. “Yes. It’s my favorite.”
“Then it’s settled,” she said, eyes down.
“You don’t seem happy.”
“I’m fine.”
“Daisy…” he urged.
She turned her back, trying to hide the taut emotion. “I’m realizing my daughter will have another room in another home where I’m not living. It’s been just me and her all this time. The idea of sharing her, of her living two lives, is hard.”
Jameson came up behind her, placed a hand on her shoulder, and turned her around. “Nothing will change.”
“How do you know that? We haven’t talked about anything. Do you get her every other weekend? Every week? What about school—”
“Please stop and breathe,” he interrupted. “Nothing needs to be decided today. I don’t even have the house yet. Let’s finish out the school year and then we can figure out what’s best.”
“How can you be so calm about this?”
“Because I believe it will work itself out. It always does.”
He got the house.
The huge, almost ten of her apartments combined house, became theirs. After the tour, Jameson and Amelia made the decisive call: the mansion in Hillsborough would be their new home.
Amelia leapt into Jameson’s arms, while Hilda clasped her hands, pleased at the sale. Daisy smiled, indistinct, and watched Jameson spin their daughter around. He brought Amelia to her and said, “Bring it in.”
“Group hug,” Amelia suggested.
Daisy hesitated, then stepped into their embrace. If they were happy, she tried to be happy, too. It became a private mantra—if they were happy, she was happy.
As they headed back to her apartment, Jameson said he couldn’t stay as he had a business dinner that night. Daisy welcomed the excuse for time alone with her daughter. These Saturday nights with just the two of them, felt precious. She wanted to hold on while she could.
At the threshold, Jameson asked, “What time should I pick you ladies up tomorrow?”
They both looked at him. “Game night,” he reminded. “It starts at five at Rebecca and Charlie’s. I’ll pick you up.”
“I’ll drop her off,” Daisy offered.
“You’re not coming?” He sounded disappointed.