Chapter 24
Connor
He hoped the coffee would entice her to let him in.
She opened the door, wiping the sleep from her eyes, still in her outfit from the previous night.
He thrust the paper cup toward her in an awkward motion, unsure how to explain his presence.
She accepted the offered gift and opened the door wide, inviting him in.
“Good morning,” she said with a yawn.
Connor gave her a sheepish smile. “Good morning, I didn’t mean to wake you.”
She sipped the coffee and sighed. “I couldn’t sleep. I was awake all night, staring at my ceiling.”
Connor stepped into her space, wrapping his arms around her. “That sucks,” he said.
Daisy rested her cheek on his chest. “I’ll be fine. I’m just tired and frustrated.”
“I would be frustrated too.” He continued to hold her, happy with the closeness.
“Hey Connor?”
“Yeah?”
“What are you doing here?”
He pulled away enough to look at her.
“I’m checking on you. And I wanted you to myself for a few minutes.”
Daisy gave him a soft smile. “I’m okay. And I wanted you to myself too.” She took another sip of her drink and ran a hand up his bicep. “I have another question.”
“Shoot.”
“Are we going to go on a second date?”
“That’s your call. We can go for breakfast now. Does that count?”
“Oooh I love a breakfast date! Yes, that counts. Let me get dressed.”
Daisy left him standing in the living room while she got ready.
Connor sat on her couch and started the next episode of the stupid reality show they’d been watching.
Fifteen minutes later, Daisy stood in front of him, fresh-faced in jeans and a Seattle Freeze sweatshirt, her face free of makeup, and her hair in a braid down her back.
This was a new version of Daisy, and Connor couldn’t decide which he liked best. Each new facet of her enchanted him more than the last, and Connor felt blessed to be along for the ride as she revealed more of herself.
They were halfway through their breakfast when Connor’s phone rang. He always answered when Sarah called, regardless of where he was or who he was with. So, he didn’t hesitate to pick up the phone.
“Hello?”
“Connor! What are you doing right now?”
“I’m having breakfast with Daisy. What’s up?”
“I got called into work, and I could really use the shift if you can watch Dylan.” She sounded strained, probably pacing her living room and pulling at her hair.
Connor glanced at his watch. “What time?”
“10:30.”
Connor held a finger up to Daisy, who flashed him a thumbs up as he stepped away from their table for more privacy.
“Shit, Sarah, that’s in half an hour. If you’re struggling, I can help. You don’t need to take last-minute shifts like this.”
“I know, Connor. But I don’t want to rely on you all the time. I’ve said no the last three times they’ve called. If I keep saying no, they’ll stop asking.”
“Would that be so bad?”
“Yes! I need to be known as reliable and hardworking.”
“You are reliable and hardworking; it’s on them if they don’t notice.”
“Can you watch Dylan?”
Connor sighed. He would give in, but wasn’t ready to part with Daisy. “Hold on a second.” He muted himself and sauntered over to Daisy. “How would you feel about babysitting?”
Daisy grabbed his fingers and squeezed. “If you need to go, that’s fine.”
He returned to his seat across from her. “I hoped you would come with me. It could be fun. Dylan is a good kid. He likes the game you showed me.”
He could tell she wasn’t sold, and his hope of spending the entire day with her dwindled, but she asked, “Are you sure it’s not too soon to be spending time with your family?”
“You’ve already met them, and they like you, so it’s all good.”
She thought about it for a few more seconds before nodding. “Okay, sure. Let’s babysit.”
Sarah hustled out the door in her scrubs the second Connor and Daisy arrived. She squeezed Daisy’s shoulder and gave Connor a quick hug on her way out.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
“Yeah, yeah. What time will you be home?” Connor had to raise his voice as she got further away.
“11:00! I’ll see you then!”
Connor grimaced at Daisy. “I did not know she would be working so late. Obviously, I didn’t ask enough questions.”
Daisy shrugged and followed him into the house. “It’s not like I have anywhere to be, anyway.”
Connor glanced around the house trying to see it from an outside point of view.
It was 800 square feet of pure love. The kitchen, living, and dining area were an open space similar to Daisy’s apartment, but more outdated.
The kitchen had ugly orange-toned cabinets and laminate countertops.
The appliances were white instead of the sleek stainless steel he preferred.
The furniture was thrift store finds Sarah had hand-picked, insisting they were perfectly fine, and she didn’t need any of Connor’s fancy-pants money or interior designers now that she was on her feet.
He was so proud of his sister. She was far from the scared, homeless teenager that had landed on his doorstep almost eight years ago.
Connor loved his own apartment, but he could never manufacture the homeyness of his sister’s little house.
Stains spattered the floor where paint had spilled in Dylan’s bedroom, crumbs coated the counter no matter how many times they got wiped away, and Dylan’s art pieces and report cards hung on the fridge with pride.
He watched Daisy take in her surroundings. “This house is so freaking cute,” she said, with no hint of judgement or sarcasm in her voice. Connor relaxed the slightest bit and then berated himself for the doubt he’d harbored.
They found Dylan at the kitchen table, with a big metal bowl and assorted household items in front of him. He hopped off his chair to run and give Connor a hug.
“Uncle Connor! Mom said you would help me make slime!”
Connor stifled his groan. Of course, his sister had delegated the absolute worst kid activity to him.
“Lucky me,” he exclaimed, the false positivity going over Dylan’s head, but making Daisy laugh.
Daisy waved at Dylan and said, “Can I help? I love slime.”
Dylan, always the social butterfly, said, “Yes! I need some help to find a recipe.”
They sat around the table and Daisy examined the ingredients Dylan had laid out.
“Let’s see here, what do you have? Glue,” she shook the gallon-sized jug of glue.
“Yes, very important. Laundry soap, contact solution, baking soda, shaving cream, water, glitter, foam beads, food coloring. Well, we’re in luck, Dylan. ”
Dylan nodded along as she listed the ingredients, seeming to absorb every detail. “We’re in luck? Why?”
She rolled the sleeves of her sweatshirt to her elbows and unscrewed the cap off the glue.
“Because we don’t need a recipe. I happen to be a slime expert, and you have everything we need for my top three favorites. Is it okay if we do that instead of following a recipe?”
The boy buzzed with his excitement.
“Yes! I didn’t know you could be a slime expert! I wanna be that!”
Their previous slime-making attempts never worked out how the recipe said it should. Each time they tried, Dylan started excited and ended disappointed.
Daisy laughed and asked him, “Can I pour the glue? It’s heavy.”
“I want to do it.”
“Okay,” Daisy said, handing him the giant bottle. His arms shook with the effort of holding it, and Daisy kept a hand on it to assist him. Before he started pouring, she asked, “Is it okay if I help? I want to make sure we get the right amount.”
Dylan stared at her with stars in his eyes. If Daisy hadn’t weaseled her way into his heart already, this moment is what did it. He was a melted puddle of slime in her hands.
“Okay, it needs to be good slime. Tell me when to stop.”
She helped him dump a dollop of glue into the bottom of the bowl.
“Great!” He was pretty sure the enthusiasm she exuded was genuine.
“Okay. Now’s a fun part.” She handed Connor and Dylan each a can of shaving cream, opening Dylan’s first. “This one you measure with your heart. I’ll tell you when I would stop, but you can do as much as you like.
The more you add, the less sticky the slime will be. ”
“Oh! We should add a whooole bunch,” Connor said, spraying his canister into the bowl.
Dylan sprayed foam into the bowl, and when Daisy said, “That’s how much I would do,” he stopped. Connor kept going. The less sticky this crap was, the better.
Dylan pushed his hand out of the bowl and stole his shaving cream canister. “Stop! It’s slime! It’s supposed to be sticky a little bit!”
“A little bit sticky, yes, not a lot a bit sticky,” Connor said.
“Daisy said it’s the right amount. She’s a slime expert. You don’t know about it.”
Daisy laughed. “This is still a good amount, don’t worry. We can fix it later if we need to.” She handed Dylan a plastic spoon. “You stir while I add the dye. What color?”
Dylan said, “Green!” as Connor said, “Blue.”
Daisy grabbed the green food dye and squirted a few drops as Dylan stirred the goopy mixture. “We can do blue for the next recipe.”
When Dylan liked the color of his slime, Daisy set the spoon aside. “Now for the best part! You have to mix the activator in with your hands. It’s more fun that way.” She poured a liberal amount of contact solution into the glue and shaving cream. “Stir, stir, stir,” she encouraged Dylan.
After some slight adjustments—more contact solution—the fluffy green slime came together. Dylan had both hands in the goo, stretching and poking it.
Connor crossed his arms over his chest, impressed. “Huh. You are a slime expert. We could never get it to come out right.”
“I told you! I had a brief slime obsession in college. It’s way cheaper to make it than buy it; that stuff is like fifteen dollars for a little jar. It made me popular in the dorms. I never ran out of people to give it to.”