Page 9 of Almost Always

“Daisy?”

“This is she.”

“Why do you sound like that?”

It took her a moment and some blinking to realize who was on the other end. “I’m dying, Ginny. That’s why.”

“That’s a bit dramatic, even for you.”

She grunted. “What can I do for you?”

“I was calling to set up a meeting for tomorrow, but I’m thinking maybe not.”

She pushed back the covers, hissing as bright light hit her face. “Good call.”

“What’s going on?”

“Just a migraine taking residence in my head to plot my demise.”

“How have I never seen this side of you before?”

She huffed. “I’m glad you haven’t, I’m not fun.”

“You’re plenty fun, Daze. But seriously, do you need anything?”

Sighing loudly, she sat up carefully and rubbed her forehead. “I’m good. The worst has mostly passed.”

“Let me know if you change your mind.”

She swung her legs over the side of the bed. “How about I give you a call when I’m back at work and we can schedule a meeting.”

“Absolutely. Rest up.”

They said their byes and she tossed the phone aside. With two fingers she massaged her forehead and closed her eyes. The migraine had reduced to a dull flutter that went back and forth across her head.Because that’s so fun to keep track of. She knew that with a cold compress, something light to eat and medication she’d be fine by the time the day was over. Then hopefully she’d have enough energy to do some work in her garden.

“Wishful thinking,” she sighed.

After a long moment of purposeful breathing and convincing herself she was okay, she stood up and stretched in the loft bedroom. Her tiny home was the perfect space and the first thing she invested in once she got her shop up and running.

After growing up in a gorgeous New York brownstone, and a craftsman once she was married, she’d gotten used to spacious homes. However, after her divorce, she’d lived in a tiny apartment where she could reach everything from the comfort ofher bed. Her shop was a priority, but she also wanted something affordable that washers.

That’s when she met Davis at a wedding.

There was a brief flirtation, a couple of nights spent between the sheets before they discovered they were better off as friends. With benefits, of course. She also discovered he designed and built tiny houses. The more they talked, the more she realized that’s exactly what she wanted. He drew up a plan, they stopped sleeping together and once all the paperwork was finalized and land was purchased, he built her home.

The outside was painted a dark green with cream trim for the windows. She planted white wisteria on the sides, so it would climb up the front of the house. She even designed a small garden and set up a compact greenhouse in the modest backyard.

The inside was done up mostly in ash and maple, to brighten up the space—which wasn’t really helpful when she had a murderous migraine. The kitchen was below the loft space, with big wide French windows that opened into the backyard and brought in tons of natural light. The bathroom and her walk-in closet were to one side of the staircase, hidden away but still easily accessible.

The open concept house was her dream. Six years of living there and she still fell in love with it every single day.

Now, as she climbed down the stairs with both hands on the railings so she wouldn’t fall, Daisy was extra grateful that everything she needed was close. She pulled cold compresses from her freezer, filled a glass with water, grabbed her meds and sat on the couch to fight the last throbs of her migraine. She’d even tried the ice hats, but felt claustrophobic because it covered her eyes and never used it again. So she wrapped the gel pack around her neck and set the compress on her forehead, settling back against the soft cushions.

What people didn’t realize about migraines was that even though you spent the whole time sleeping, it was incredibly exhausting. You weren’t sleeping to rest, you were sleeping tohealand the latter took a lot more effort than the former.

That didn’t stop her from trying to snooze as much as she could, because it was the only thing that helped.

When she woke up from her nap, the sun was still shining. Thankfully her migraine had worn down to a faint headache. It was now the manageable kind, one that pricked at the back of her head and faded away eventually. Retrieving the compress and pack from the floor, where she’d tossed them, she checked the time and gasped—quarter past eleven.In the morning.

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