Chapter Twenty Tom
Chapter Twenty
Tom
It wasn’t about the red stickers. Tom had to keep telling himself that, even as Ralph appeared beside him to get another,
having just sold the photo of Stormy called “Good Feelings” to a journalist at one of the national newspapers. Tom tried not even to break his stride while in conversation with two editors
who employed him as he pulled the pack of stickers out of his back pocket and handed one over. He glanced at the door briefly,
having to double take as Daisy walked in, a gust of wind blowing behind her, lifting her hair up and back down. He stopped
mid-sentence, watching as she removed her jacket to reveal a skintight tie-dye dress. He hadn’t seen nighttime Daisy before
and he swallowed as the man opposite interrupted his thoughts, saying something about a “big shoot.” Tingles flooded through
Tom’s body as he watched Daisy smile brightly, taking a champagne and saying something that made the waiter laugh.
Throughout the entire conversation Tom kept half an eye on where she was in the room.
Yes, he didn’t want to miss the moment she caught sight of the photo of herself.
His favourite of the whole exhibition, with the neon light from the school hall causing slight waves in the background, hitting Daisy’s eyes so they sparkled with real intensity.
The blurred face of the girl behind her, head tilted back, adding to the joy.
He’d chosen to hang it in the prime spot of the gallery where the spotlights landed directly on her face, catching her cheekbones and flooding her in a warm glow.
He wanted to catch the moment she saw it, for sure, but he’d also never seen her dressed up the way she was tonight, and even if he weren’t making an effort to follow her, he wasn’t sure he’d have been able to pull his eyes away anyway.
It was just because she looked different, that was all. A new version of Daisy to take in.
It wasn’t hard to keep track of her. He mostly just had to look for Martha, who had charged at her the second she saw her
arrive, sort of the way Tom wanted to. Wait. What? Did he?
“Sounds good,” he murmured to the editor, not entirely certain what he’d just agreed to. “Count me in.”
Daisy moved into the next room and he lost sight of her, only to see the door swing open letting in a blast of cold wind from
outside as Sophie arrived with Laura. It was the first time he’d seen her since she appeared at his car window that night,
and his heart pounded in his chest at the sight of her. She was dressed in tight black jeans, a white T-shirt and an olive-green
jacket, her wavy hair loose and her signature liquid eyeliner ramped up for the event. Her lips were red and Tom was sure
the scent of Gucci Rush was fresh in the air from her arrival. His throat turned dry and he tried to clear it without her
noticing because her eyes were searching the room, looking for him, the way they used to do when he first met her.
“I think we’d be looking at Dubai as obviously the budget would be massive .
. .” the guy opposite him was saying. Sophie’s gaze finally landed on Tom, her eyes widening when she saw him as she tilted her head slightly to one side.
For some reason Tom’s instinct was to nod toward her in greeting.
She broke into a grin and gave an exaggerated nod back.
Her hand reached out taking a glass of champagne from the tray the waiter he’d hired was holding and Tom felt his body tense on sight of that.
Then she smiled and pointed to her left and he knew what she meant.
That she’d look at his work as he was obviously busy and he’d forgotten how easy it was to communicate with someone you’d been intimate with.
How few words were needed. It had become that way with Daisy now, on the bus.
He knew what type of mood she was in before he even sat down, based on the way she was sitting or how she was choosing to spend her time.
Whether she was face down in her phone or staring out the window, or sometimes her gaze fixed at the doors as she waited for him to climb on.
The two men parted ways to look in different rooms and Tom figured he should go and greet a few more people. He’d seen some
of his subjects arrive: Rose and Deirdre and the “Jesus Christ my sausages” lot. He should go to Daisy too because she’d arrived
first, but Sophie would be expecting him to go over the moment he was free, after she’d made the effort to turn up. He hadn’t
been sure, until that moment, whether she actually would. What was the right thing to do here?
Martha came running at him, still full of beans despite it being way past her bedtime, with his dad traipsing behind looking
like a man who’d had another baby at way too late an age for the energy required.
“I saw Daisy,” she shouted.
“Me too,” Tom replied.
“No. On the wall. Looking happy,” she said, keeping hold of Tom’s hands to climb up his legs and then flip herself over backward
so she landed back on her feet. “Sophie never looked that happy with you,” she said, spinning in a circle before climbing
up his legs again. He frowned, shaking his head at Martha and the unexpected statement she’d just blurted out.
“Oi you,” their dad said, lifting Martha up. “It is time to get you home and leave mummy to have some much needed fun, without you,” he said, leaning forward and rubbing his nose against hers. “Excellent work, Tom. It’s stunning. Your best yet.” Tom met his dad’s eyes, smiling.
“Thanks, Dad,” he said. His dad reached across and rested his hand on his shoulder, squeezing it tight.
“She’s right you know,” he added, before turning and walking out of the gallery with Martha in a stronghold.
“Who’s right about what?” Tom muttered as a different scent filled the air, calming his senses, and he looked up to see Daisy
standing beside him. For a second his pulse quickened and he swallowed, a loud laugh booming out from somewhere in the other
room.
“Tom,” she said, reaching out and taking his hand, gently pressing her fingers against it. He looked down, confused for a
second before he remembered their entire plan. Sophie was there. Daisy was adding intrigue, in case she might see.
“Daisy,” he said, tightening his grip on her fingers.
“These are so beautiful.” Her eyes were brimming with tears and he felt a light shiver run through his body, seeing her respond
that way. Unless . . . was it all for Sophie? It was exactly what they spoke about her doing. He didn’t like the idea of Daisy
being an actress too. It didn’t feel right for her.
“Thank you,” he said as she met his gaze, her eyes wide and shimmering. If he had his camera, he would document that expression.
It felt so pure; it didn’t feel like she was acting at all.
“I need to tell you—”
“Tom.” Sophie appeared beside him, resting her hand on his arm, the hand of which was still resting in Daisy’s. Sophie looked
down and then up and between them, as Tom yanked his arm back and spun slightly away. “Sorry,” Sophie added and he saw the
hurt that washed across her face. “I can come back later . . .”
Tom looked from Daisy to Sophie and back again. This was what he wanted. He wanted Sophie to come here and speak to him. Why did it suddenly feel like she was interrupting? He’d never felt like she interrupted anything before.
“God no,” Daisy laughed. Tom noted that it looked nothing like the laugh in his photo. “I can talk to this buffoon anytime,”
she added, shoving him lightly. “He’s all yours.” He thought he saw her bottom lip quiver as she walked away.
Tom presumed she’d look around the exhibition again and perhaps wait until he was free, but she walked straight toward the
door, handed her champagne glass to the waiter, took her coat and was gone. She was gone without even mentioning the photo
of her. The biggest of them all.
“I’m so proud of you,” Sophie said as Tom pulled his gaze away from the door and waited a moment to refocus before he turned
back to the face of his ex-girlfriend. The face he’d been longing to see for months. The face that inspired his greatest photos,
that belonged to the woman he was going to marry. Still wanted to marry, he corrected himself. She leaned in and wrapped her arms around him and there it was. Her familiar scent
as she pressed her cheek against his. There were things he’d forgotten. The softness of her skin, or how much his body fizzed
when she was close to him. Even now, after all this time.
“Thank you.”
“Nearly all sold?”
“Well it’s not about that,” he said, and she did her favorite smile that showed all her teeth, with the little gap between
the front two.
“Knew you’d say that, and no, it isn’t, but it must be a good feeling anyway.”
He looked down at his shoes and back up. “I’m definitely glad people like them.”
“You look . . .” She scanned him, squinting. “Different. You’ve got a whole new look going on. Tom 2.0?”
“Something like that.” He nodded. “God. Anyway, sorry . . . it’s not about you, Tom.” He put the silly voice on, the one he did when he was nervous. “How are you?”
“I’m good. I’ve just got my dream part.”
“Soph, that’s amazing,” he said. “I’m delighted for you.” And he was. He always wanted the best for her. This was the news
he used to wait for when they were together, but it never came. Why now? Maybe she was right and she hadn’t been able to concentrate
on herself when she was with him. It certainly seemed that way, from what she was saying.
“Thank you, it’s just . . .” She took a deep breath in. “Now’s probably not the place.”
“What?” He reached out. Touched her arm. “Hey. It’s okay. You can tell me.” He felt like he already knew what she was going
to say and he was ready for it. Wanted it almost. He felt his chest lightening as he waited. It might just be the closure
he needed, after all this time. If Sophie’s life was better without him, then he wanted her to have that life, that’s how
much he loved her.