Page 51 of I Saw Her First
My taste buds respond to the mention of lemon cake, anticipating the tang before I can remind myself it’s not coming. Lydia used to make me one every year for my birthday, and the past three years haven’t been the same without it.
I rise warily from my chair. “Thanks, Pauline.”
She rounds the desk, pulling me into a tight hug. I get a face full of blond curls and Chanel No. 5, before she pulls away.
“Let me take you to lunch.”
“Uh…” I glance down at my laptop. I’ve got shitloads of work to do, because I’m still catching up from the time I took away at the beach house.
Besides, I’m really not in the mood.
I’d almost been looking forward to my birthday this year. With Jess back at home and Daisy around, things felt more hopeful. I’d imagined the three of us sitting down to an enjoyable dinner, even if Jess spent the evening sulking. It would have been something, at least.
But the last few weeks have been a whole lot of nothing. Nothing but work, long hours swimming laps in the pool, and fucking average coffee.
“Come on.” Pauline slips her arm through mine, tugging me away from the desk. “We’ll be an hour, tops. I won’t take no for an answer.”
I sigh, letting her drag me out of the office. She chats amiably as we ride the elevator, then exit through the glossy lobby of the high-rise onto the bustle of Fifth Avenue, but I barely hear a word she says because my mind has strayed to Daisy, to that moment we stole together alone in the darkroom. It’s all I’ve been able to think about since it happened.
And I hate myself for it.
The way it felt to have her melt in my arms, her mouth soft and needy as she rubbed herself against me. The moan she made when I kissed her throat, the breathy way she told me she wanted me between her legs.
What is so wrong with me that I’m evenmoreturned on by the fact she’s a virgin? Knowing that she’s never given herself to someone else, that no man has ever been inside her? It makes me want to claim her for myself.
But it’s more than that. I haven’t been with anyone besides Lydia, and truthfully, I never thought I’d want another woman with any kind of intensity again.
Boy, was I wrong.
I’ve never felt the kind of pull I feel for Daisy. Don’t get me wrong; with Lydia there was attraction, and love—so much love—but I didn’t have this animal stir to life inside me, this primal, protective need to possess her, to make her my own. With Daisy, I feel slightly unhinged, and I can’t decide if that’s a good thing or not. All I know is not acting on this is taking every ounce of my strength. Especially when I know she’s at my house most afternoons, using the darkroom.
I know because her prints hang above the bathtub downstairs, and new ones appear on an almost daily basis. There’s the shot I took of her in the meadow where she’s holding the daisy. One of me gazing at a maple tree. One of me striding through the grass toward her, grinning like mad. And so many others I wasn’t aware she’d taken. It makes me happy to know she’s doing what she’s meant to, but it’s bittersweet because I don’t get to see her light up.
I don’t get to see her at all.
“Wes?” Pauline snaps me from my thoughts as she leads me into an Italian place for lunch. I didn’t even notice the four blocks we walked from the office.
“Sorry,” I mutter as we take our table. I unfold the napkin and slide it across my lap, forcing a smile onto my mouth. “So how are you, anyway? How are the kids?”
The word “kids” isn’t quite right. Hers are a similar age to Jesse. She and Lydia met at a Lamaze class, and our kids grew up together.
“They’re good. Julia is interning for a law firm uptown, and Sammy’s loving Harvard.”
I sigh, trying not to think about my son, ignoring me, somewhere in the city. He hasn’t so much as texted to wish me a happy birthday, but that’s no surprise. He didn’t do it for the previous three years, either. I figured that putting a roof over his head for a few weeks might earn me the tiniest show of gratitude, but apparently not.
We order our food and Pauline turns to me, her brow knitted in concern. “What’s going on with you?”
I shrug, taking my glass of merlot from the server. “The usual.”
Pauline sips her chardonnay. “I thought things were better lately,” she says gently. “Over the past year, you seemed… I don’t know. You seemed different, Wes. Like you were finally coming out the other side.”
I swallow my wine, not meeting her gaze. She’s right. I had been feeling that way, and that was largely thanks to Daisy. She was the one who brought light and hope back into my life.
And now, it’s gone.
“Wes.” Pauline sets her wine down and reaches across the table to touch my hand. “Talk to me.”
Despite myself, I feel a flash of gratitude for her. This woman was at my side through the worst days of my life, through the worst days ofherlife. We share a bond now that runs deeper than her being my wife’s best friend. We share the loss of someone we love. And I’m desperate to unburden myself, to tellher—hell, to tellsomeone—about how tormented I’ve been ever since Jess brought Daisy home.
