Chapter V
V
DAISY
In one of his emails, Logan said he viewed New Year’s resolutions as pointless.
“If you want things to change, a day on a calendar isn’t going to make a difference,” he’d written, giving Daisy a rundown on how changes in behaviour aren’t instantaneous.
It was ironic, then, that Daisy found herself in a pub on New Year’s Eve, swearing that the year ahead would be her best yet when he walked in.
It had only been a week since she’d last seen him, and whether it was the alcohol in his system or something else, he seemed lighter.
“Miss Daisy,” he said, sauntering up to her. “We have to stop meeting like this.”
“You have to stop appearing then,” she replied, sipping her drink.
“Are you here on your own?”
Her eyes trailed over to Idris, his attention held hostage in a tense game of pool. “Actually,” she began, forcing out the words, “I’m here with…”
“You two can chat later,” a woman dressed in a figure-hugging red dress cut in. She elbowed her way between them before casting Daisy a forceful smile. “I need a drink, and he’s buying the first round.”
Logan shot Daisy an apologetic look and introduced his friends: Jessamine, with whom he worked with; David and Kitty, his flatmates; and Tad, who had once worked with him and now had a job as a surgeon for the NHS.
And Kate, the woman in the red dress—the very tight and short red dress.
It was obvious to Daisy that she was interested in him, though Logan hadn’t seemed to realise it at the time.
They manoeuvred to the bar, and before she could mention him, Idris decided to cut his pool game short and walked over. He’d always been a bit possessive, and as he draped an arm over Daisy’s shoulder, she sensed that Logan guessed that.
“So, who’s this?” Idris asked after a moment, clearly waiting for her to make the introductions.
“Oh…erm…this is—”
“Logan,” he cut in.
“Well, Logan, if you don’t mind, I’m going to steal my girlfriend away.”
Logan said nothing in return and watched as Idris pulled Daisy away.
Once they were out of audible range, Daisy pulled herself free from Idris, hurt, angered, and embarrassed. It was one thing to cause a scene, another to humiliate her.
“What is wrong with you?” she hissed, careful not to draw more attention. “He wasn’t doing anything!”
“Oh, come on,” Idris shot back. “You think I didn’t see how he looked at you?
Look at you, dressed like you belong in King’s Cross.
” He reached for her dress and yanked it up hard.
She should’ve done something, covered herself, or tried to pull him outside—anything.
But instead, she stood there frozen, feeling three dozen eyes all staring at them.
“You have to stop doing this. I’m not your property.”
Idris stilled, and his eyes darkened. “What did you just say?”
“I said,” she repeated, louder this time, “I’m not your property.”
Her pulse hammered in her throat as silence stretched between them. Then she saw Logan, leaning against the far wall, watching. He didn’t look away when their eyes met.
Idris’s expression twisted when she looked back. His jaw clenched, and he curled his hands into fists. “Don’t start this with me, Daisy. Not here.”
He reached for her, but she stepped back.
“Don’t,” she whispered, tears beginning to stream down her cheeks. “Don’t you dare touch me.”
Something snapped in Idris. His face contorted, and his hand lashed out. Not to hit, but to grab, to hold, to control. “You don’t get to talk to me like that.”
She spun around, avoiding his grasp, and made her way to the bathroom as Idris’s voice rang out, low and venomous.
“You think you can walk away from me? You have no idea what you’ve just done.
” Without looking back, she headed straight into the bathroom, tears clouding her vision. Logan followed a moment later.
“Daisy,” he said gently. “Are…are you okay?”
She turned away from him, unable to avoid his reflection in the mirror. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.”
“You can’t be in here,” she muttered, reaching for a paper towel to wipe the running mascara from her face. “You know he won’t like it. Please leave.”
“Do you honestly think I care what he thinks?”
She bit down on her lip. “You might not, but I do.”
Their eyes met, and in them, she saw his disappointment when the recognition hit him.
“You aren’t going back to him after that? Guys like that, Daisy…they aren’t…”
“I don’t need your opinion, Logan. If you haven’t forgotten,” she snapped, wiping her face, “you’re not my friend. We don’t even know each other.”
She regretted the words the moment they left her lips, but before she could apologise, Logan reached for her arm.
“Does he hurt you?”
“Leave, please!”
“Answer the question, and I will.”
She swallowed. Idris was jealous, a little heavy with his words, and forceful when it came to intimacy, but he wasn’t violent—not in the conventional sense.
“Not the way you think he does,” she said, sighing.
For a while, he simply stared at her, his face illuminated by the blinking fluorescent light.
It was the same stare he’d given her the day they met.
The one that made her feel as if he’d opened the vault to her inner thoughts and was sifting through which ones to unlock.
Then, to her surprise, he took another step forward and pulled her into his arms.
“Sometimes, we settle for what we think we deserve and not what we need,” he said softly, rocking her back and forth. “Don’t do that to yourself, Daisy. Don’t settle just because. You’re far too beautiful and intelligent for that.”
She cried, soft tears that salted her lips and fell like snow. It felt almost criminal for him to see this raw version of her. They were, after all, a tier above strangers.
“I need to go,” she said, the words barely audible. “Before he comes in here.”
She could’ve stayed in that moment for hours, but they couldn’t. Even over the live band, they could hear Idris shouting at strangers, asking if they had seen her.
“Until we meet again, then,” he said under his breath, letting her go.
And with that, he left.
After that night, Logan had emailed a dozen times, checking if she was okay, but she couldn’t bring herself to respond. Whether it was shame or the sting of fragile self-esteem, someone like Logan felt like a danger.
There was no denying he was gorgeous. Men like him, attractive and educated, had never spared her a second glance, so why was he now?
She turned over every possibility in her mind.
Maybe he’d picked up on her lack of confidence from their emails and, like the boys at university, saw it as his moral duty to offer her a pity-fuelled one-night stand.
Or perhaps it was something simpler. Maybe he just wanted to make another woman in his life jealous.
It wouldn’t be the first time, she thought, and she knew with certainty it wouldn’t be the last.
A year passed, and not long after Daisy and Idris had rekindled after a temporary break, she saw his engagement announcement. She was sitting in the staffroom when her colleague Edie began flicking through the paper.
“Wait,” Daisy said, catching sight of Logan’s face. “What’s that about?”
He’d never mentioned it in their emails, then again, she hadn’t told him about Idris and her breaking up either.
Edie glanced at her, barely interested, and shrugged. “Some wedding announcement.”
“Can I see it when you’re done?”
“Have it,” she said, tossing it onto the table. “I’ve got a meeting in a few minutes anyway.”
She finished her coffee and walked to the sink to rinse her mug. Once she had gone, Daisy picked up the paper and stared at the photograph. Logan was clean-shaven in a suit, his arm draped around her waist.
She recognised the woman from the pub that night. Kate was a popular columnist for The Star, known for her advice on unfaithful husbands and hormonal teenagers. Her wide-set brown eyes and thick blonde hair reminded Daisy of a young Audrey Hepburn. She was happy for him—really, she was.
“Love,” Russell said as he walked in, startling her. “Who’s tying the knot now?”
Daisy shoved the paper aside, sighing. “Nobody important.”
“Wait, isn’t that—” He paused, reaching for the paper. “You’re kidding. Here he was telling me a week ago, this bird wasn’t anything serious. Maybe she’s pregnant, after all.”
Daisy froze. She’d forgotten that Russell knew him.
“You interviewed him,” he went on. “They were doing that men's mental health hotline a while back.”
“I thought he was familiar,” Daisy said, forcing her voice to sound neutral. “Logan, isn’t it?”
If Russell sensed anything off about her remark, he didn’t show it.
“That’s right; the neurologist. Thought he had a thing for you, I did.”
Daisy pulled a face. “And why on earth would you think that?”
Russell shrugged, walking over to boil the kettle. “He used to ask a lot of questions about you. None that were relevant to the piece you wrote about him.” He turned to face her then, his eyes narrowing. “Did he ever—”
“God, no. Never.”
“Good,” he said, his gaze intensifying. “I’d have to kick his arse if he did. He has a reputation, that one.”
She didn’t ask for details because she didn’t need to.
There was something in the way he said it, a possessiveness she hadn’t anticipated, that made her feel she was right to ignore Logan’s emails.
But perhaps Russell was just looking out for her, like a father would for his daughter.
He always had, even when she hadn’t asked for it.