Page 53 of I Saw Her First

I send her a faint smile as I reach for my wine again. As much as I want to believe her, I know it isn’t that simple.

By the timeI finally drag myself home from the pool, the sky is a dusky purple, fading into black. I did everything I could to distract myself from Pauline’s words, to make myself exhausted and numb, and now I can open a bottle of wine in front of the TV before crawling into bed.

Another year, and I’m no better off than the one before. If anything, I feel worse.

The front door shuts behind me with an ominous thud, and I shuffle into the kitchen, dumping my bag on the floor and placing my pizza on the counter. I don’t know why I grabbed dinner on the way home. I still have no appetite. This time of year is always hard without Lydia to greet me at the door, her lemon cake on the counter. My tongue misses the sweet lemony tang of the cake.

And my heart misses having someone to celebrate with.

I eye the pizza box for a moment, then shove it away, deciding to go straight for the wine bottle instead. As I reach fora glass, a throat clears in the living room. I glance toward the noise in fright, my pulse scattering.

And there, holding a cake blazing with candles, stands Daisy.

My heart nearly stops.

“Happy birthday,” she says uncertainly.

I stare at her in shock, taking a step forward. “What…?”

“I know you don’t want to see me anymore,” she adds hastily. “And I’ll leave right after this. I just… I wasn’t sure if Jess… Well, you know. I wanted to make sure someone celebrated your birthday.”

My chest fills with static.

“I was here using the darkroom anyway.” She lifts a shoulder. “I figured I’d hang around a little longer. I hope that’s okay.”

I swallow, my voice thick with emotion as I speak. “How did you know it was my birthday?”

She grimaces, dropping her eyes to the cake. “It said on Facebook. I might have, er, done a little online stalking.”

I huff a quiet, knowing laugh, because she’s not the only one. She doesn’t post a lot online, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been on there, looking to see what she’s up to. If she might say, in some cryptic way, that she missed me as much as I missed her. She didn’t, of course, but that didn’t stop me from looking. From hoping.

What truly stuns me, though, is that she’s here despite me telling her we couldn’t see each other anymore. Even though I pushed her away, she came back.

“I’m not a great baker,” Daisy admits, cheeks pink in the glow of the candles. “But there is one recipe I’ve mastered. I hope you like lemon cake.” An awkward laugh slips from her. “You’d better blow these out before I accidentally start a fire.”

I ignore her request, my heart snagging on her words.Lemon cake. They send goosebumps scattering across my skin, make my heart squeeze in my chest.

In that instant I know, without a doubt, that it’s a sign. I’ve never much believed in God, or the universe, but this is crystal clear.

“I…” I shake my head, my throat so tight it’s hard to get the words out. “I can’t believe you made this for me.”

“Of course.” Her eyes move over my face, filled with sadness and something else, something I don’t dare acknowledge. “Wes… it’s devastating that you lost Lydia, and then to lose your relationship with Jesse on top of that… But you don’t have to lose yourself. You deserve to have a day that celebrates what a wonderful man you are.”

Fuck.

Emotion tangles hot in my chest at the sincerity in her voice.Howdid I push this woman away?Whydid I tell her I couldn’t see her?

“Did Jesse call?” she asks gently. I don’t even have to answer; a sardonic grunt of a laugh does that for me.

She frowns, genuinely annoyed on my behalf.

And that’s when it hits me. I’m keeping her away to protect my relationship with Jess, but for what? He hasn’t called or texted to wish me a happy birthday. Henevercalls. And when I think back to the way he behaved at Greenport, I hardly recognize him. I was there for him when he needed me; gave him food and put a roof over his head when he was more than old enough to do that for himself. I didn’t have to, but I did it because he’s my son.

And he never once said thanks.

I stare at Daisy, standing in my living room with a homemade lemon cake—a cake she somehowsensedI needed. And as I gaze at her face in the flickering yellow of the candles, I feel all my walls crumble. She’s here. She cares enough to be here with me, when my son won’t even talk to me. I’m desperately trying to protect my relationship with Jesse, but the relationshipis nonexistent, and in doing so, I’m sacrificing the potential for something truly wonderful. Something that’s right in front of me.

And I’m sick of it.

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