Page 71 of The Summer I First Saw You
I’m going to punish you for this when we get home.
Daisy
I’m already wet at the thought.
“Ellis was really impressed with your work,” Emerson says. “If you’re ever looking to switch jobs, let me know. I’m almost positive you could do most of your work from home.”
I picture it—working from home with Daisy there, constantly undressing and dancing around the kitchen and asking me if I want to surf. It would be my ultimate fantasy and, simultaneously, absolute disaster—I wouldn’t get an ounce of work done. But why the hell is my first thought of Daisy when the topic isn’t related to her in any way? When she’ll be gone at the end of the next month? Why is it that my whole fucking world didn’t include her at all in May and now revolves around her? Andright on the heels of Baker’s bullshit, I should be jumping at this. It’s the old, ever-responsible voice in my head that keeps me silent, a voice that saysyou can’t quit again. What if the new job doesn’t work out? Are you going to crawl back to Baker a second time?
“Thanks,” I tell her. “I’m not sure I’m—”
Daisy’s gaze hardens suddenly, and I lose my train of thought.
It’s a look I’ve never seen on her face before—suspicious, full of hatred, and I follow it to find Scott at the other end of the room, looking at her.
Scott has never especially bothered me—he was simply Bridget’s worthless husband, a bad choice she made that we were all forced to put up with. Now, though, he’s someone who’s hurt Daisy, someone who’s been worse to her and Bridget than they ever let on.
Daisy’s lip curls as she turns her back, continuing to talk to the girls on the other side of her.
“Scott showed up?” I ask, jaw clenched.
Liam rolls his eyes. “You think that cheap fucking asshole was ever going to turn down a free ticket? Showed up and invited two friends.”
I’m telling myself to ignore Scott until he starts heading in Daisy’s direction. He’s not starting shit with her on my fucking watch.
“Excuse me,” I say, pushing past everyone and jumping over the red velvet rope to follow him.
“Sir, you can’t cut the line,” says some officious kid in a red vest.
“Try to stop me,” I reply, moving faster.
I reach Daisy and Bridget just after Scott does. He extends a hand, and I accept reluctantly. “Harrison!” he says heartily. “How long’s it been?”
“It’s been a while,” I reply between my teeth.
“I was just telling Daisy that we’ve missed seeing her this summer. We have no idea if she’s sleeping on the street.” He turns her way—she is already bristling. “And I bet you haven’t been to mass once since school ended, have you? Or gone to confession? You know your mom lights a candle for you every Sunday.”
It’s a role he’s played for years—upstanding guy doing his best versus wild, thoughtless stepdaughter. I fucking hate that I ever thought it was genuine.
“Some people are good humans all on their own, Scott,” I grit out. “I’ve never seen Daisy do anything that warrants confessing. Maybe you’re just a little guiltier than she is.”
There’s a flash of anger on his face before he laughs and hits my shoulder as if I was joking. “If you believe that, you haven’t been keeping up.”
How am I only seeing now that this is what he’s always done? He implies that there’s more going on, and we’re all too polite to call him on it and thoughtless enough to sort of believe him.
Now I know better. And I’m done letting him get away with it.
“Tell me what I haven’t kept up with, Scott,” I say.
He shoots what is no doubt supposed to be afondsmile at Daisy, still playing the role of kind-but-concerned stepfather. “We don’t need to get into all that here.”
I catch Daisy’s eye, willing her to stand up for herself, to call him out. To say, “No, Scott, let’s go ahead and get into it.”
Instead, she looks away. “I’m going to save us seats,” she tells Bridget.
“I’ll go with you,” Bridget replies, squeezing Daisy’s arm.
The last thing I want is to be left with Scott, but here we are. “Look, I didn’t want to embarrass Daisy,” Scott says once they’ve walked away, though that’s exactly what he just tried to do, “butyou know…she took off this summer and won’t even tell us where she’s staying. Bridget’s worried sick.”
