“Sorry. Yes.” I glance into her rich brown eyes. Today they’re subtly ringed with eyeliner, highlighting her natural beauty, and she’s woven her long hair into a braid that snakes over her right shoulder. Out of nowhere, I have an image of that braid wrapped around my fist as she straddles my lap. Heat pools in my abdomen at the thought, and I suck in a breath, glancing away. I haven’t felt such a sharp, visceral sensation of lust like that since…
Well, for a very, very long time.
She hovers by my table, looking uncertain. “You sure you’re okay?”
I swallow, pushing the image away. When I glance back at Daisy, her eyes swim with concern, and something breaks a little in my chest. She doesn’t realize it, but she’s become the one constant in my life. The one good thing.
“My son won’t talk to me.” The words slip from my mouth without my permission. She’s not my therapist. She’s only the local barista, trying to go about her day. But compassion knits across Daisy’s brow, and she lowers herself into the chair opposite me.
“What happened?”
“He…” I blow out a long breath. “It’s complicated.”
“Right.” She smooths a hand over the table, apparently unbothered by my vague answer. “Is there anything you can do?”
I shake my head. “I’ve tried everything. The harder I try, the more it feels like he pulls away.”
“That’s rough.” She’s quiet for a moment, then gives a small, humorless laugh. “It seems like everyone I know is arguing with their parents lately.”
A smile whispers across my lips. “I guess some things never change.”
“Yeah.” Daisy studies me, her gaze warm and reassuring. “Well, whatever it is, I’m sure he’ll come around. Maybe he just needs time.”
I nod, wishing it were that simple. “I hope you’re right,” I murmur, looking down at the coffee in front of me. When I see the Ghostbusters symbol she’s crafted into the foam, my heart lightens. “Another masterpiece,” I say with a chuckle.
She laughs too. “Glad you like it. I’ve been practicing that one.”
“I love it.” I lift my gaze to hers again. “It’s one of my favorite movies.”
“Mine too. At least, the original is.” She wrinkles her nose. “None of the new movies compare.”
“Couldn’t agree more,” I murmur, surprised that a woman so young would love an eighties film. Her answering grin is pure delight, and warmth suffuses my chest. “You always know how to make me smile, Daisy.”
A blush touches her freckled cheeks as her gaze sears into mine. Her breathing becomes unsteady and she swallows. “You make me smile, too.”
My gaze falls to her full mouth, and for the first time since Lydia died, I contemplate what it would be like to kiss someone else. To wake up beside someone else. To share my life withsomeone else. Is it too absurd to think that someone could be Daisy? Sure, she’s young, and it would be unconventional to date a woman her age, but I’ve never played by other people’s rules. Everyone said I was crazy to marry Lydia at nineteen and start a family at twenty. Everyone laughed when I quit my stable job to start my own ad agency at twenty-five. I didn’t listen, because I’m a man who’s always known what he wants.
And looking at Daisy, I know what I want.
I gaze at the pretty brunette in front of me, thinking about the way she lays the newspaper out for me, the way she tries to make me smile with her coffee, the way she always stops to talk to me.
She feels this too. I know she does.
When her lips curve into a soft smile just for me, I decide that sometime, when the moment feels right, I’m going to ask her out.
Daisy rises from the table, brushing past my shoulder as she returns to the counter. My skin tingles from her brief touch, warming me through, and when I head off to work, I’m smiling again.
Smiling at the thought of new possibilities.
5
Daisy
Ipress the doorbell with a nervous flutter in my belly. I’ve been seeing Jesse for a while now, and we became exclusive a couple months back. I’d helped him get an interview with a friend of Dave’s who runs a coffee shop on the Lower East Side, and when we met up after and he told me he’d gotten the job, he surprised me by asking me to be his girlfriend. He’s surprised me in so many ways since I met him, but the biggest surprise of all has to be the way he responded when I told him I was a virgin.
We had the conversation on our first date. He’d taken me to a fancy restaurant I hadn’t expected, and when I asked him how he knew about the place, he told me his mom had recommended it. True to his word, we kept things light, and talked about movies and work and our favorite places in the city. By the end of the evening, I knew I wanted to see him again, and decided to come clean about my lack of experience. I thought he’d be shocked, but he took it in stride, telling me he wasn’t in any rush. He said he’d done the casual thing and was interested in something more. It was refreshing, to say the least.
That was three months ago, and while I’ve had fun hanging out with him, part of me feels there’s so much more to Jesse than he lets on. But how well can you know someone after such a short period of time? That’s the point of committing—to see where it could go. And since we’ve started dating, that stuck feeling has gotten quieter. It’s not gone completely, but it’s easier to ignore. So it’s worth sticking around to see what this thing with Jesse could become.