Page 112 of Book and Ladder
“Coming back here and running Moss and Maple would have probably been in the cards whether I attended Vanderbilt or not. But now …” Her shoulders drop even further.
If she were feeling stronger, we wouldn’t even be talking right now. She doesn’t have it in herself to handle her own grief and resist me too. So I stand, taking advantage of the opening she’s giving me, knowing it’s only a moment in time—a portal that will close again far too soon.
When I sit on the cushion next to hers, she startles. Then our eyes connect. I carefully reach over and place my hand gently on top of hers.
“How can I help?”
She looks at me askance.
“I’m serious, Daisy. I know what the shop means to you. Losing it is so much more than simply losing your business.”
She stands. My hand falls away from hers. I think she’s going to kick me out, but she walks toward the kitchen. I sit stock still, afraid to even breathe out an irregular breath.
She comes back, holding a book in her hands.
She hands it over to me wordlessly.
I read the cover and look up at her in awe. “How did you find this?”
“I have my ways.” Her smirk is only half its usual strength and it fades quickly.
“Careful, Daisy,” I tease her out of habit. “I might get the impression you like me.”
“It’s just a book, O’Connell, not a marriage proposal.” Despite the blanket of discouragement shrouding her, our familiar banter seems to cheer her incrementally.
The fire isn’t fully awakened, but there’s a flicker of hope that she will return to herself, stronger and more full of life than she is today.
“I don’t know,” I say, turning the book over and eyeing the dust jacket. “If a woman were to give me a book like this … I’d have to wonder what she’s feeling for me.”
“You’re impossible,” she insists, but there’s a fragile warmth in her eyes—distant, but genuine.
“Thank you,” I say, sincerely.
She nods.
I stand and walk toward the door. Better to leave on this note than push myself on her when she’s so vulnerable. I’ve already overstepped on a day when she’s raw and exposed.
She shuffles her sock-clad foot on the hardwood and avoids my gaze. “Thanks for checking on me.”
“You’re welcome.” I long to tip her chin up, to stare into her eyes until she sees me—really sees me. Instead, I offer all I can for now. “I’m just right there if you need anything …”
“I don’t,” she insists. “And don’t get any crazy ideas about coming over here regularly. This was a one-off.” She looks up into my eyes, a mixture of sadness, playfulness and confusion swirling in the amber of her irises.
I force myself to hold her gaze and not think about thekiss we shared or the future that could be ours if she’d only let me show her how different I am.
“Well, anyway …” She breaks our eye contact and then briefly glances back at me. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Daisy. Anytime.”
I step out the door without looking back, holding the limited edition to my chest as I enter my side of our duplex.
I can’t tell her who I am … Not yet.
I still haven’t answered her goodbye email. My thoughts were unclear. Maybe my allegiance was still torn between her and my father. I’m clear now.
Setting the book on my counter, I open my email, take a deep breath and pour my heart out in the hopes that Daisy might give me a chance to make things right.
I’m not quite sure how I’ll do it, but I won’t stop until I’ve removed that pained look from her eyes and replaced it with her trademark warmth.
