Chapter Twenty-Five #2
He nodded. “I had a lot to say. I had hoped you’d hear it. Forgive me.”
She winced. “I didn’t listen. I couldn’t. I really tried to purge my life of all things TKC. Which,”—she huffed a laugh—“was not easy.”
“I always thought you’d turn up at one of our shows,” he admitted. “I don’t know why, but I had this dream, over and over, that you would. Is that crazy?”
“No,” she said softly. “I almost did. Once.”
He leaned in, intent. “When?”
“My senior year. Some friends had tickets to Madison Square Garden. They begged me to go. They even had backstage passes.” She shook her head faintly. “I almost said yes, but Amelia got sick that night. I took it as… a sign I wasn’t meant to.”
His jaw tightened, a flicker of pain crossing his face. “We were so close.”
“Yeah,” she whispered. “We were.”
Silence fell, heavy with all the words they didn’t say. What if. What if she had gone. What if she’d walked backstage and found him there. What if their lives had shifted on that one night.
But what-ifs were dangerous. They hadn’t happened, and they never would. Daisy drew in a breath, steadying herself. “Anyway,” she said gently, “this is your story. Please… go on.”
“Right. After that album, we went on tour again, won our first Grammy, traveled the world, and got really messed up along the way. It was wild. The music was real, but nothing good came out of that time.”
Daisy stilled, her heart thudding in her ears. She told herself to leave it alone, but the words slipped out before she could stop them.
“But… you got married.”
His jaw flexed, eyes flicking away. “I did.”
The admission hung in the space between them, sharp as glass. Daisy’s throat tightened. She forced herself to ask, though her stomach coiled. “What happened there?”
He let out a humorless laugh. “I was young, lost, high most of the time, and she was there. That’s what happened.”
She kept her spine straight and pressed.
“Do you really want to know?”
She didn’t, but she did. “Sure.”
“Maybe I should take you up on that wine after all,” he joked but made no movements to get up.
“I met Brooke before our first headlining tour. We were… friends. Same parties, same people. It was casual. The label loved the press: the Hollywood starlet meets the rock star. We all went to Vegas for Lenny’s birthday.
We were high, drunk, and got hitched at one of those little chapels.
” His mouth flattened. “I didn’t even remember it the next morning. But the press did.”
“You could’ve annulled it.”
“Everyone told me to, especially Mum, but I didn’t.
” He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Because for a second, I felt something. Not real love, I realize now. More like wanting to feel anything at all. We were two damaged people pretending we hadn’t already lived our big love stories.
She had given up hers for fame and I have given up mine for… Well, because I was a selfish prick.”
While she didn’t like the description he gave himself, she couldn’t disagree. Back then, he had been a selfish prick.
“How did you find out? Please don’t say some grocery store rag.”
Daisy softly chuckled. “Actually, Anna told me. She thought it was better that I have a breakdown in the comfort of my own home than in a checkout line.”
He winced. “Were you upset?”
“Surprisingly, no.” She took a breath. “My life was finally working. School. Working at my aunt’s gallery. Amelia was thriving. Maybe I was jealous you married someone else. But I was mostly disappointed in myself.”
“With yourself?”
“You were building a family with someone. I was sick at the thought that Amelia might have a sibling she’d never know. That she wouldn’t know she was part of something more.” Her voice thinned. “And that would be on me.”
“I never loved her,” he said quietly. “I tried. I couldn’t.”
She believed him. She also hated that he’d tried to solve emptiness with rings.
“Honestly, I wanted you to be happy,” she said. “Despite everything.”
“You’ve always been the bigger person.” His mouth quirked. “If you’d been married when I came back, I wouldn’t have been so happy. I barely handled Matt.”
“Why?” She knew, but she wanted him to say it.
“Daisy…”
His knee inched toward hers. The hairs on her arms rose.
“I want to hear it.”
He went still, as if weighing something. Then he stood and left the room.
Daisy stayed still, confused, until Jameson reappeared with his phone in hand.
“Can I connect this?”
Daisy scrunched her face in confusion.
“Do you have a speaker?”
She only nodded and pointed to the portable speaker under the TV.
She watched as Jameson connected his phone and waited for the music to fill their ears.
“Jameson, what are you doing?” she lightly whispered.
As the music began to play, Jameson walked back to the couch and sat next to her.
He confessed, “Answering your question.”
His voice filled the room. It was warm, husky, and achingly familiar.
This was his song.
From the infamous third album.
The love letter.
The summer heat has come again,
And so does the memory of you, my friend.
Friends to lovers that’s how it went,
Friends to lovers,
Many summers well spent.
Back when the days were short and the nights were long,
Back to when missing you didn’t feel so wrong.
Missing the drive-in movies,
And making love in my back seat,
When we were consumed with love,
Never having to speak.
But those days are gone.
We’re back to reality where neither of us belongs.
We belong in your room while I sing you all my songs,
We belong to the night, where nothing ever seemed wrong.
Let’s go back to those days and midnight curfews,
Let’s go back to those days so I can stop missing you.
Driving through our hometown once again,
It’s been years and years and I really miss my friend.
Traveling’s been good but nothing feels quite like this town,
I can feel you here so that’s why I stick around.
Please let me in, let me explain myself,
I didn’t run from love, I ran to save myself.
We were friends to lovers that’s how it went,
You were my friend to lover oh what a summer we spent.
She closed her eyes and let the rest of the song wash over her. When she opened her eyes, their faces were close. Close enough to feel his breath. He didn’t move. Neither did she.
“Why?” she breathed, finally.
“Because I never stopped,” he said simply. No poetry now, just truth. His hand slid over hers on the cushion, warm and careful. He didn’t pull her in. He didn’t kiss her. He just held her hand like it meant something.
Because it did.
The next day in her studio, Daisy stood in front of a blank canvas, thinking back to the night before. How had she gone from tears over her breakup with Matt, to warmth and tenderness listening to Jameson’s voice?
She decided it was all a big mistake she refused to repeat, not the confession or the song or the hand in hers, but the cliff she could see herself leaping from. She wouldn’t let the heat of him set fire to what they were building for Amelia. Or for themselves.
Resolved, she started to brush the canvas with deep lines, when suddenly her phone vibrated. She ignored it the first time, focused on her art before she heard it again.
She wiped her hands and checked the screen. The school.
Why are they calling?
“Hello—this is Daisy Daniels.”
“Hi, Ms. Daniels. This is LeAnne MacArthur, principal at Amelia’s school. Amelia is safe, but we need you here immediately. There is a situation.”
Daisy was already grabbing her keys. “What happened?”
“There are photographers outside. They’re calling your daughter by name, saying she’s the child of someone famous… Jameson Kingston.”
Daisy stopped cold. Her stomach dropped. They knew.
“Is she okay?”
“A little shaken, but fine. When you arrive, please come to the front office.”
“I’m on my way.”
She dialed Jameson as she flew down the stairs.
“Hey, darl—”
“They know,” she said, voice shaking. “The press. They’re at the school.”
Silence, then movement on his end. “I’m coming. Don’t go in without me.”
“I’m not waiting—”
“Daisy, please. You’ll be swarmed. Meet me at the corner store. Ten minutes.”
“James—” The line clicked dead.
Every muscle in her body screamed to drive straight to the school, but Jameson was right, so she drove toward the store. He arrived five minutes later and ushered her into the SUV. Barry was there, plus two more men in black.
“I’m sorry,” Jameson said immediately. “I didn’t think it would get out this soon.”
“It’s not your fault.” She covered his hand, meaning it. “This was… inevitable.”
And even though it was inevitable, Daisy couldn’t help but already miss the small bubble they had been living in for the last few weeks.
They pulled around to the back entrance. Barry turned in his seat. “We’ll extract Amelia and bring her to the car.”
“Like hell I’m not going in there,” Daisy said, already pushing past him. “Move.”
They were crazy if they thought she would let some strange men “extract” her daughter from her school. They must not have any children because if they did, they would know better than to try to tame a mama bear when her cub was in distress.
She ignored their protests and sprinted down the hall to the principal’s office. Amelia sat in a too-big chair, swinging her feet, blue lollipop staining her mouth.
“Hey, Mom!” Amelia launched herself into Daisy’s arms.
“You okay, sweet stuff?”
“Yeah! It was crazy. All these people were taking my picture and asking if Jameson was my dad. I didn’t say anything, I swear.”
Daisy cringed.
They had spoken to her and violated her privacy. The thought made her sick.
“What happened?” She addressed the two women standing over them.
Principal MacArthur soured her face and gave off an irritated attitude as she began to speak, “The class was at recess. Photographers started shouting questions from beyond the fence.”
“We brought the kids in immediately,” Amelia’s teacher added. “No one breached the gate. But they were loud.”
Daisy placed her hand atop Amelia’s head and sighed.
With pinched irritation, Principal MacArthur spoke again, “Miss Daniels, while we assume you had no part in this, the fact that photographers line the street as we speak is very distracting for the rest of the students, and frankly, it’s not fair to the children who value their education—”
“Children like my daughter,” Daisy said evenly.
She ignored her and continued, “Parents are already calling in with complaints. I don’t think…” Her words died on her tongue as her eyes flicked past Daisy and widened. “Oh my—”
Jameson stepped into the office with Barry shadowing him. He went straight to Amelia.
“Hey, baby girl. You okay?”
She nodded, all teeth and blue tongue. “I got a lollipop.”
“That’s my girl,” he said, kissing her forehead.
“Mr. Kingston,” Principal MacArthur gushed, practically elbowing Amelia aside to shake his hand. “We had no idea one of our students had a parent with such—such prestige.”
Jameson’s charm slid on like an old jacket. “Yes, her mother is remarkably talented. Some of the best art I’ve seen.” He smiled pleasantly. The principal’s giggle deflated.
“Perhaps we should focus on a plan,” the teacher suggested gently.
“Yes,” the principal said quickly. “We can’t have those paparazzi harassing our sweet Amelia or her father.”
Daisy didn’t bother hiding her eye roll this time.
“Barry?” Jameson asked.
“I recommend Amelia stay home the rest of the week,” Barry said. “We’ll work with the school on preventative measures. Once Mr. Kingston makes a statement, interest should drop.”
“I don’t know about keeping her out an entire week—” the principal began.
“That’s fine,” the teacher cut in. “It’s a light week. I’ll send the work home.”
Amelia threw her hands up. “So I don’t have to come back here for a whole week?”
“That’s correct,” her teacher said, fighting a smile.
“Hell yeah!”
After Daisy promised to wash her daughter’s mouth out with soap for cursing in front of her teacher, the three of them got back into Jameson’s SUV.
Barry glanced in the rearview. “Paparazzi are swarming your building, Ms. Daniels. It’s safest to head to Mr. Kingston’s. We’ll collect your belongings.”
“I’m not being run out of my home.” Daisy’s voice sharpened. “We’ll manage.”
“Daisy,” Jameson said softly, “please. Stay with your parents. Or Anna. Somewhere gated. I’ll breathe easier if you’re not alone. This is different than anything you’ve dealt with.”
She was ready to argue, then she saw the tightness in his jaw, the worry sparking off him.
“Anna’s place is more remote,” she said. “We’ll stay with her.”
“Slumber party at Auntie Anna’s!” Amelia cheered.
Relief washed over his face. “Thank you. We will have the guys stop by your place and collect some of your belongings. Then I will make a statement, confirming that Amelia is indeed my child and that we’d appreciate it if everyone left us the hell alone.”
“Ooh,” Amelia said, eyes dancing. “Jameson said a bad word. Does he get his mouth washed out with soap, too?”
Daisy and Jameson smiled at each other over her head.
“Yes,” Daisy said. “He absolutely does.”