Chapter Thirteen Daisy
Chapter Thirteen
Daisy
Bursting through the front door, Daisy checked her watch for the one hundredth time. She’d normally have dinner in the oven
by now, smells wafting through toward the front door, awaiting Zack’s arrival. Not today. He was minutes away. She’d only
just beaten him home.
Her heart started pounding as she thought about what she’d just done. She’d gone out for the afternoon with another man without
telling Zack and now it was too late. Mentioning it after the event would seem like she was sneaking around, no matter what
the context was. She should have told him already. She’d had so many opportunities and he might have understood. He might
not have told her to take a different bus or switch shifts or all the other things she was worried about, but now, she knew
he would. If he found out about the shopping and the ceilidh, innocent or not, it was sneaky. She’d got herself in too deep,
and she didn’t know how to fix it.
In the hallway of their flat she turned, swinging her head left and right before glancing back down at her watch.
She could feel heat radiating through her body, her clothes sticking to her skin as she thought about how to explain herself.
Daisy’s pulse started racing as she heard the jingling of keys and before she could really think it through she ran into the sitting room and dived onto the sofa.
“What’s for dinner,” Zack shouted, loudly sniffing from the front door the way he did sometimes.
Daisy’s mind raced with what to say as she heard Zack’s smart shoes squeak against the wooden floorboards of their beautiful
hallway before he used his shoehorn to remove them one by one, and a bang as he placed them in the shoe rack.
“Daise?” he shouted, rounding the corner to find her in the fetal position on the sofa. “What’s up?”
She saw it. The disappointment on his face, highlighted by his drooping eyes. The slightly pissed off nature of him, shown
with the flare of his nostrils. The quick adjustment as he took in the state of her.
“Period pain,” she muttered. She said it because once, a few months after their patient and therapist relationship had turned
into something more, he claimed that he was fairly sure he was getting sympathy cramps, which was a real sign of their connection.
Daisy remembered pulling him toward her when he said it, kissing him hard. It had felt so important, then, that their connection
was as strong as possible.
He squinted, moving to stand over her, shaking his head. His voice was quiet.
“There’s something more than that, I know there is.” He paused, staring at her. “This is why I said that about not going for
that job. You’re already overwhelmed and you have to trust me when I tell you what will help.”
Daisy looked up at him. She couldn’t seem to pull herself up, as though she’d embodied the lie so completely it had become
true.
“You’ve been doing too much lately,” he said. “You need to spend more time at home. With me. I can help you. Okay?”
Daisy nodded, her breath catching in her chest and not shifting.
“Go to bed. I’ll make you a hot water bottle and bring you some soup.”
Daisy didn’t complain. She stood up and hobbled through to the bedroom, undressing and pulling back the duvet, climbing into
the crisp freshness of it. When Zack brought the hot water bottle in and pressed it against her stomach, she pretended to
be asleep. She could feel the presence of him for longer than she was expecting. He must have been standing in the doorway,
watching her.
“That’s better,” he whispered. “Good night, Daisy.”
Eventually she heard his footsteps as he walked away and let out a shaky breath, shoulders shuddering as she dragged the hot
water bottle up to her chest, clutching it to her. She felt like a monster, lying to him like that.
Daisy took a few deep breaths to slow her breathing as flashes of memories twisted in with her dreamlike thoughts. Her mum
crying and telling Daisy to go to bed. Dan’s little hand in hers. A train flying past her, not stopping. Tom in his orange
trousers. Martha cuddled up on her lap, feeding her sprinkles. A sprinkler in the garden. Daisy and Dan jumping through it.
Terror rushing through them as the water was shut off with no warning. Both of their naked bottoms running for the kitchen.
Wet footprints on the tiles. A night sky.
“I’m ravenous this morning,” Tom said, sitting down beside Daisy and putting a Tupperware container on his lap.
She turned to him, frowning. It wasn’t possible he could have known she’d missed dinner, yet here he was like some kind of
angel, cracking open the lid to reveal two pain au chocolat and holding the box open toward her.
“What, you warmed them? I could kiss you!” she said without thinking, taking the pastry. “In fact,” she added, panicking now, “that could be one of our options for the mission, if all else fails. A kissing selfie. I mean . . . not with me. With anyone.”
Tom was watching her, an amused expression on his face. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, lips twitching at the corners.
“You’re wearing the shirt,” Daisy said, her face lighting up. It really suited him. With his tousled light brown hair and
pale blue eyes, the shirt sort of pulled him all together, if that made any kind of sense.
“Haven’t taken it off,” he said, taking out his pain au chocolat and biting into it. “Slept in it. Got up. Here I am.” A flake of pastry was sitting on his bottom lip and Daisy instinctively
reached up to brush it away. Warmth rushed to her fingertip as she made contact and she yanked her hand way, pulling at the
fabric of her trousers to get rid of the sensation.
“Did you post yet?” she asked, her voice more official than normal and Tom reached a hand to his chest, falling backward.
“I’m starting to think you don’t care about this,” Tom said, wounded. “Of course I did. You told me to.”
“Sorry, I fell asleep the moment I got home,” she replied, which was a half-truth.
“Welcome to the Martha effect.”
“I loved her.” Daisy pulled out her phone to check Instagram.
“Not as much as she loved you, and believe me that’s harder than it might seem. She can be a real ice queen when she wants
to be.”
Daisy choked on her pastry. “I refuse to believe it.”
She looked at Tom’s page, heat rushing to her cheeks at the photo he’d posted. He looked . . . amazing. Smart. Edgy, but also,
somehow, warm and loveable.
“Nailed it.” Daisy scanned the comments, searching for the name she was now almost too familiar with.
“Nothing yet,” he said, knowing what she was looking for.
“It would be a weird one to comment on,” Daisy replied, pondering it. “Photos you’ve taken is one thing. She can sound objective. But one just of you would require more thought. Give her time.”
Tom’s eyes lit up as he shook his head. “You are a mastermind. Hey—any news on your brother?” He tapped her on the leg before
going back to his pastry.
“No, but I haven’t followed up yet. I thought an email just saying PROVE THIS IS YOU sounded a bit aggressive.”
This is what their bus journeys had become. Here they were, side by side, catching up despite having spent the previous afternoon
shopping together. It was as though Tom never ran out of things to say and that made Daisy comfortable. She worried about
silences, and with him there never were any.
“I booked that gallery,” Tom said. “In December. I’d love you to come.”
“That’s so cool,” Daisy said, beaming. “Your photos really do deserve to be seen on a larger scale, and . . . a larger wall.
And actually, I meant to say, it was on my list of things anyway.”
“Really?”
“Yes. But this one was less for Sophie, and more for you. I think in Orlando it says . . .” Daisy thought about it, because she hadn’t brought the book with her today. Had woken up in a bit of a daze
and left it on her bedside table. “It says ‘he who robs us of our dreams robs us of our life,’ or something, and it seems
like your breakup maybe stopped you from seeing how good your work is or it distracted you from what you really want to do.
I don’t know. I haven’t fully formed the idea yet.”
Daisy turned to look out the window, a bit embarrassed that she’d blurted this out. It was a thought she’d had about Tom while
reading—she’d never intended to share it with him.
“It kind of did feel like that,” Tom said, his voice soft. “But it doesn’t anymore.” He lifted the camera around his neck as if to demonstrate his point. “Hey, what about that job you really want? The investigative journalist one? Speaking of dreams and all . . .”
Daisy sighed. “They’re actually advertising for one at the moment, but it’s the wrong time for us and, well, I’m not sure
I’m ready.”
“What do you mean?”
“The wedding, future babies, skills required . . . It’s too risky to move into something else. Something new.”
Tom looked down at his hands. “I’ve been thinking a lot about that stuff while I edit these photos of that homeless guy, Stormy.
He made me realize there’s never really a right time for anything. Like, fuck the fear, we should all just go for what we
want the moment we can, because who knows what might happen? Where you might end up the next day, even.” He had a faraway
look in his eyes for a moment, and then he laughed abruptly. “God, sorry! Turns out I have way more to say on a full stomach!”
He leaned back, resting his hand on his very flat torso as if to emphasize the point.
“You really do. You’ve turned into one of those inspirational podcasts.” She caught his eye and smiled, brushing some hair
away from her face.
“I don’t know, it’s just . . . if it’s your dream and you’ve got no idea when it might come up again, what have you really
got to lose? You can always turn it down, but . . . no. I can’t say it. Can I?” He clenched his teeth. “I’m going to. I’m
sorry. Here it goes.” Interlacing his fingers, he pushed his hands away from him, shaking out his shoulders. “You miss one
hundred percent of the shots you don’t take.”
Daisy snorted, shoving him. “Who are you, and what have you done with my laid-back travel companion?”
When Daisy let herself into her flat after her shift, which she’d spent writing up copy on Kendall Kardashian’s face change and Ariana Grande’s upcoming tour, the lights were still on.
It wasn’t like Zack. He meticulously went through the flat turning off lights and switches before he left.
She dropped her bag into the hallway and walked toward the sofa in the sitting room, leaping back startled to find Zack already there, still in his pajamas—a black Guns N’ Roses T-shirt and checkered trousers.
“What’s this?” he asked, holding up Orlando. He frowned, scanning through the pages. “Why are you highlighting bits and underlining them. Why have you written ‘buy a
cloak?’ by this sentence? Is this for someone else? Who? What the fuck is going on?”
Daisy shrunk back, a thousand thoughts passing through her brain in quick succession, all ending in one place. That if she
told Zack the truth, it was the end of everything. Her job. Her early starts. Her bus rides to work. Tom.
“It’s an idea I had for my wedding speech,” Daisy blurted out, squeezing her eyes shut as she tried to think through the lie.
“It was going to be a surprise.”
Zack’s expression softened. “Why a cloak?”
“It . . . None of it is definite. I just had this idea and I . . . I’ve been trying to figure out if I can do it. Don’t get
your hopes up,” she rushed. “I’m not sure if it’ll work, so . . .”
Zack stood up, pulling Daisy toward her.
“Sorry,” he whispered. “Sorry, sweetheart. I don’t know what I thought it was, it just seemed out of character for you and
you’ve not been yourself lately. It felt like maybe something was going on?”
“There’s nothing going on,” Daisy said, shaking her head as a knot twisted in her stomach.
He pressed her head against his chest and held her there. “We moved here together, me and you. For a fresh start. This only
works if it’s the two of us.”
“I know that. I do know that, of course I do. The book was for you.”
“For us,” he corrected, putting a finger under her chin and lifting her head, kissing her softly on the lips. “Whatever’s for me
is for us. It just felt like you were moving away from me. Reading books in secret. Going out more. You forget how well I
know you, and your anxiety worsens when you try to force your way out of your comfort zone. I can help you do it, but it takes
time and you need to listen to me, okay?” He wrapped his arms around her. “We’ve already achieved so much together. You’ve
moved cities and got space from your family. You’ve got a job you love. A flat that makes you happy. I’ve helped you with
all of it. I want the best for you, you know I do. You can trust me.”
“I do trust you.” A lump formed in Daisy’s throat as she thought about how hypocritical she was being, telling Zack she trusted
him while she was sneaking around.
Whatever Tom had said about the job, Daisy couldn’t apply now, even if she wanted to. She was already keeping one big secret
from Zack, and that secret was Tom.