She doesn’t say anything as I join her, just gazes up at the stars, lost in thought. The ocean is a comforting roar in the distance, and I tilt my head back too, thinking of Lydia. She used to love sitting out here, naming the constellations she could never see in the city. My chest burns, wishing she could be here to help me figure everything out. That’s who I miss the most: my best friend. The woman who understood me better than anyone.
“You’re not wearing your wedding ring,” Daisy whispers beside me, so quiet I think I’ve imagined it. But when I glance over, she motions to my left hand, and I notice I’m absently rubbing the spot. I let out a long, shaky breath.
“It was time,” I murmur. I rub the spot again, the groove worn into my skin from the band that was there for over two decades, trying to summon the positivity I felt a few nights ago when I removed it. “I’ll always love Lydia,” I say, contemplating the best way to phrase it. “But… recently I’ve felt a shift inside. This seemed like the right thing to do.”
Daisy gazes at me with a sad smile. “What brought that on?”
“You.” The word is out of my mouth before I even realize what I’ve said, but I decide to leave it, because it’s true, and I’m not sure I have the energy to lie. “I was in a dark place when I met you, Daisy, and you were…” I huff a quiet laugh, thinking of how bubbly she was during those bleak months when my world felt empty and hopeless. “You were this shining light of goodness, going out of your way to make me smile with your wonderful coffee creations. I’m sure you do that for everyone, but—”
“I don’t.”
Those two words are enough to make my heart trip, but I don’t dare meet her gaze. I don’t dare let myself consider what that could mean.
“Well, those few moments with you every morning brought hope back into my life. They reminded me that things could be good again.” I smile, savoring the feeling of warmth as I take another gulp of my wine. “And lately, we’ve…” Ahhh, shit.Stop. I set my wine down with a shake of my head, aware I’m coming very close to crossing a line I won’t be able to uncross. “Never mind,” I mumble.
There’s a long silence, during which I can feel the heat of Daisy’s gaze on the side of my face.
“Lately what?” she asks at last. I try to ignore the breathless note in her voice, but I can’t. And I need to be very careful with what I say next.
“Lately…” I shrug, pretending it’s no big deal. “It’s been nice spending more time with you.” I can say that, right? That’s not crossing a line. It’s perfectly appropriate.
But when I let myself glance at Daisy, it feels anything but appropriate. Her eyes are dark saucers, lit with fire as they pierce mine. The air grows thick with tension as we stare at each other, a thousand unsaid words filling the space between us. A heavy ache starts low in my pelvis, my cock stirring in my shorts, and when she runs her tongue across her bottom lip, I have to shift in my seat.
I think back to the way I felt when I found out she was dating Jess and the realization she’d never been interested in me, even though I had the nagging sense she was. Watching her squirm restlessly on the chair, watching her eyes fasten on my lips and her breasts shudder with her uneven breathing, I know I was right the first time. She feels this thing between us too, and I’m beginning to think she always has. Even though she was dating Jess.
Jess.
My son’s name rings through my head, and I yank my gaze away from Daisy, soberness hitting me like a cold bucket of water. It doesn’t matter if Daisy feels this. None of it matters. And I need to make that very clear.
“I’m sorry things didn’t work out with you and Jess,” I begin, trying to segue gently into what I need to say. “And I’m sorry for what he did.”
“Me too,” she says quietly. “But… I wasn’t a very good girlfriend. I have feelings for someone else. I have for a while, and I think…” She hesitates, and I should stop her, but my breath freezes in my lungs as I wait for her next words. “I think he has feelings for me.”
Oof. She’s not making this easy.
I release a pained, unsteady breath as I look at her. She’s so beautiful, her dark hair falling in soft waves over her bare, freckled shoulders, her expression so open and vulnerable that all I want to do is pull her close.
It’s excruciating.
“He does,” I murmur, despite the rational part of my brain screaming at me toshut up. “But he loves his son and doesn’t want to hurt him. Even if said son behaved like a total ass.”
Her gaze falls to her wineglass, and she gives a tiny, nearly imperceptible nod. “I understand.”
Of course she does. Of course she’s being perfectly reasonable. She’s young, but she’s the most mature twenty-five-year-old I’ve met. It only makes her more attractive.
I take one last lingering look at her, then force myself to my feet, hardening my resolve. Tomorrow, our vacation ends. We’ll drive back to the city, and it might be time for me to find a new coffee shop.
18
Weston
They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions, so I must be well on my way.
I rap my fist on the solid oak of my neighbor’s door, one foot inching toward the steps as if I’m about to change my mind and bolt back to my place. I shouldn’t be here, asking my neighbor Kyle—a contractor—if he can help me create a darkroom in my basement. Because as much as I tell myself I’m making the darkroom for me, and me alone, I know damn well that’s a lie.
We returned from Greenport last week. The car ride home was torture, with Daisy less than a foot away from me, her sweet scent filling the car, her soft sundress riding up her freckled thighs. I’ve never had so much trouble focusing on the road in my life.
When I dropped her off outside her building in Bed-Stuy, I tried to tell her I wouldn’t be coming to Joe’s anymore, but the words wouldn’t leave my mouth. I couldn’t imagine waking up and getting coffee somewhere else. Sure, she dated my son, but she made me coffee long before that.
