ELIO
Daisy’s familyhome is far from what I expected.
Something about the way she is—so soft, so sweet, so genuine—suggested a cozy, relaxed atmosphere. Some sort of cottage or maybe a little cabin in the woods. Instead, I find something very different here: a grand estate nestled in the hills of Cape Casserat, with a sprawling garden and a gated drive.
It’s a strange kind of intimidation—seeing the wealth and power of her family up close. I wasn’t prepared for it, other than knowing I’d need to be the perfect gentleman in front of her parents. A polished, proper version of myself.
While that still holds true, I also need to act like the whole prospect—extravagant wealth, estranged family members—doesn’t nag at my insides. I’m not used to it, and I’m not so sure that I want to be.
But then Daisy takes my arm, squeezing it ever so slightly, and I’m reminded of why I’m here in the first place. To support her, to be her shelter.
We enter through the grand double doors, and Daisy’s father is the first to greet us. He’s a stately-looking man with salt-and-pepper hair and a strong jaw. I notice that he and Daisy share the same soft, brown eyes, but that’s where their similarities seem to end.
His expression is unreadable, his voice tight as he shakes my hand in greeting.
But Daisy doesn’t seem to notice. She’s made it clear that she isn’t close with her family, but still, her face lights up at the sight of him.
“Hi, Dad,” she says softly, sweetly. “It’s so nice to be home!”
Her father responds with a simple nod. “Nice to see you, too. You can show your guest to his room.”
Daisy’s eyes, normally full of light, seem a little dimmed as she shoots him a half-hearted smile. “Come on,” she murmurs, guiding me deeper into their home.
Every step on the marble floor echoes like a reminder of its grandeur. The sweeping staircases are lined with portraits of stern-looking ancestors, probably the same ones who’d designed this posh prison.
She leads me up to what’s to be my room for the weekend, and the opulence doesn’t stop—marble-tiled bathroom, plush bedding, and gold-encrusted furniture. But it’s the view that captures my attention: the sprawling, manicured estate stretches out as far as the eye can see.
She gestures grandly, an attempt at lightness. “Everything the light touches is yours ... until Sunday.”
“Ah, I suppose I can’t sneak into your room?”
A sound between a snort and a chuckle escapes her. “You’d have to scale down the tree outside this window, make your way through the garden maze, and then climb up my trellis.”
“Really?”
“I’m kidding. It’s just across the hall.” She tugs on my hand, pulling me behind her. “Come on, I’ll show you.”
I follow her lead, mesmerized by every step. When we reach her room, I’m met with an explosion of colors. She has a massive window lined with a pale blue valance, allowing light to pour in and illuminate the room. There’s a bright white bedspread with yellow polka dot pillows, her nightstand covered in trinkets and books.
I can’t help but grin at the sight. It’s the first place in this house that actually feels likeher. I let out a low whistle, eyes roaming around the room. “I like it.”
“Thanks. I like it, too,” she says, soaking up the nostalgia. “My little home for the first eighteen years.”
The pause between us grows heavy, my mind racing with questions. “You know, before, when you mentioned a surfing sponsorship, I just assumed ...”
“That I needed the money for comps?”
“Well, yeah, isn’t that the point?”
“I did need it, actually. My parents wouldn’t pay for anything to do with surfing. They were interested in my success, sure, but they’ve always wanted me to pave my own way. If I wanted to surf, I needed to find a way to cover the expenses, the travel, on my own. It was hard enough to convince them to cover my tuition.”
I give her an incredulous look. “Seems like they can spare the money.”
“Yeah, but they wanted me to go to an Ivy. And, well, something like that isn’t really up my alley.”
“Yeah, I can see that.” I wrap a gentle hand around her, pulling her toward me. “You fit in perfectly at Coastal, anyway.”
“Thanks, baby.”