Page 22 of I Saw Her First

My stomach wrenches at the mention of her sharing a room—and no doubt a bed—with my son. But what did I expect?

For fuck’s sake. This is exactly what I came here to avoid.

“You could sleep in one of the guest rooms if you’d prefer.”

What? What am I saying right now?

I expect her to politely decline, but I’m surprised to see something akin to relief in her eyes.

“Would… would that be okay?”

“Of course, Daisy. There are plenty of rooms. If you’d be more comfortable with your own space, please take one of the other rooms.” I busy myself with my bags so she can’t see my expression, which no doubt gives away how relievedIam she doesn’t want to share a room with Jess.

I’m an asshole.

“Okay.” She exhales, smiling. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” I straighten up with my bags and return her smile. She’s wearing a sundress I’ve never seen, in an olivegreen that suits her alabaster complexion. I never knew she had freckles on her shoulders, and it’s an effort to keep my eyes from trailing over her exposed skin.

Fuck. I need to lock myself in my room and never come out.

“Well, goodnight,” I grit out, even though it’s only 8 p.m. I wrestle my gaze away and turn to pass through the kitchen to the master suite on the other side of the house. The further I am away from her, the better. I should get back in my car and leave them to it—that’s why I left the city, after all. Jesse’s clearly livid that I’m here, and I can’t blame him for that.

But there was something in the way Daisy pleaded with me to stay, a kind of desperation in her eyes that made me cave, against my better judgment. I might not know why, but she wants me to be here.

I set my bags on the king-sized bed and stride to the large picture window to stare at the sea. It’s shimmering with golden light in the late evening sun, and I’m itching to dive into the water, to take my mind off whatever it is I’ve walked into.

I strip from my work clothes, having driven from the office, and into swimming trunks. I pause as I gaze at Lydia’s dresser, standing next to mine, empty now apart from a few framed photos of us scattered along the top. There’s that familiar ache at her absence, and I press a kiss to my fingertips before touching them to her picture. God, what would she think of me being in this situation?

There is no situation, I tell myself firmly, tying the drawstring on my trunks. I grab a towel and head onto the deck, following the path down through the dunes. The sand is warm on my feet after a day in full sun, the air balmy. We used to come here every summer, the three of us. Jesse would build sandcastles and Lydia would lie on the lounger with a book on her stomach, always intending to read but usually dozing off theminute she was in the sun. She worked long hours at the gallery, and family vacations were her only time to relax.

It’s good to be back again, even if it’s not quite what I’d imagined with Jess and Daisy here too. But maybe this is a good thing, I think as I wade into the sea, bracing myself against the cool water. Maybe being here together, which Jess and I haven’t done since Lydia passed, will help us reconnect. Maybe Jess will remember the good times we had here over the years, and let his anger toward me fade. God knows, that’s the least I deserve.

I take a deep breath and dive into the surf, praying it will be that easy.

I turnthe Nikon in my hand, looking for the tiny catch on the back to release the door that opens for the film. Ever since Daisy picked it up off my shelf, her eyes bright as she talked about shooting with a real camera, I haven’t stopped thinking about it. I sourced some film from a shop in Williamsburg, hoping I could shoot a few rolls while I was away. I won’t be able to develop them myself, like Daisy suggested, but that’s okay. I only wanted something to take my mind off everything.

For the life of me I can’t figure out how to load the film. It’s been… shit, it’s been decades since I used this thing.

“Need some help?”

I glance up to find Daisy padding into the dark kitchen. She’s in a yellow tank top with matching pajama bottoms, her long hair piled in a messy tangle on her head. When she steps into the pool of warm light coming from the rattan light fixture above, I read the text on her tank: “Good Vibes Only.” It makes me smile, because that’s how I think of Daisy—a sunny person who radiates positivity.

Then I remember I’m wearing nothing but a T-shirt and boxer shorts, and I shuffle further under the island. What the hell was I thinking, coming out here in my freaking underwear?

“What are you doing up?” I ask. I’m aiming for gruff, maybe a little harsh, to scare her back to her room, but it comes out as an invitation.

She shrugs. “Couldn’t sleep.” Her gaze moves from me to the camera as she slides onto the stool beside me. “You brought the Nikon.”

I swallow, forcing myself to keep my eyes on her face and not her bare legs. “Yeah. Got some film for it, too.” I try to shuffle away from her but I’m at the end of the island. “Figured I could shoot the beach, or something.”

There’s a light in her eyes when they come back to mine, an upturn at the corner of her mouth. “I’m jealous.”

My eyebrows pop up, and I nudge the camera toward her. “You can use it, if you like. I don’t even know what I’m doing.”

“Oh.” Her gaze drops to the counter. “I can’t, but thank you.” She continues before I can ask what this means. “I can help you load the film though, if you need.” Taking the film canister, she expertly pops the back of the camera open and positions the film into place, before snapping it shut. “See? Easy.”

I marvel at the way she handles the camera like it’s an extension of her, like she’s done this a million times before. But her hands shake when she sets it on the counter, and her breathing has become uneven. Concern needles my insides.

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