She kept writing. Some days were a struggle to get any words on the page at all. Other days, the words poured out of her faster than she could type them. It was a good distraction from reality. She wanted to keep flying. She also wanted to publish something that she could actually admit she’d written it. The more she wrote, the more she realized how much she wanted to keep writing. Maybe she should take an online creative writing class or something.
The day the doctor gave her permission to go back to work, she got back in her car and drove to Children’s Hospital. She’d met with a CPA and paid the taxes on the royalties for Overtime Parking a week ago. She’d gotten the last (big) chunk of royalties after she’d pulled the file off of the publisher’s server. It was nice, but the money was burning a hole in her bank account (and her conscience). She knew what Grant would have done with the fifty thousand dollars. As a result, a cashier’s check for that amount was riding around in her handbag.
The writing wasn’t the only thing she aspired to do. She’d heard Grant talk before about how going to the hospital to visit the kids was the highlight of his week. She knew they accepted volunteers. It would be nice to feel like she was giving back to the community by volunteering once a week or so.
Daisy parked her car and walked into the hospital’s administration office.
“May I help you?” the receptionist at a long, low desk asked.
“Hi, I’m Daisy Spencer. I talked with someone about volunteering here the other day, and I have an appointment. And I have a donation to the hospital, as well.”
“We’re happy you’re here, Daisy. You’ve been highly recommended to our board by a friend who prefers to remain anonymous.” Her eyes twinkled.
“A friend?”
“Oh, yes. You’ll need to fill out some paperwork and have your picture taken. We’ll do a background check as well. If you come with me, we’ll get this started,” the receptionist said. “Would you like a tax receipt for your donation?”
“Sure,” Daisy said. She reached into her handbag and pulled out the long, white sealed envelope with the check inside. She was led along a corridor to a series of office doors. The receptionist stopped in front of one of them and indicated a chair in a waiting area. “Why don’t you have a seat, and I’ll get that tax receipt for you.”
“Thank you so much.”
Daisy glanced around at the colorful artwork on the walls and winter sunlight streaming through the windows. The small waiting area even had a fish tank. Plump, colorful fish swam through a variety of scenery. She took a deep breath and felt herself relax. Hopefully, the volunteer organizers wouldn’t mind if she asked not to volunteer on Tuesdays.
The receptionist skidded into the waiting area again with a look of surprise on her face.
“This check is for fifty thousand dollars. Did you mean to give us this much money?”
“Yes. I’m happy to,” Daisy said.
“I wanted to make sure,” the woman said. “Thank you so much.”
“Thank you. I really admire what Children’s does for so many kids. I hope the money will help.”
The woman hurried away again, and a few minutes later, a boy in fuzzy blue pajamas, slipper socks, and a picture book in one hand padded into the waiting area. He walked over to the fish tank and stood transfixed as he watched them.
“Do you like the fish?” Daisy asked.
“Yeah. This tank is bigger than the one by my room. There’s more fish,” he said. He turned to face Daisy. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Daisy,” she said. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Alex,” he said. “My dad’s name is Alex too.”
“That’s pretty cool,” Daisy said.
“Yeah,” the boy said. He scrambled up on the empty chair next to Daisy’s. “Will you read this to me?” He held out a well-used copy of Goodnight, Goodnight, Construction Site. “It’s my favorite.”
“I’d be glad to,” she said. She took the book and opened to the first page.
Alex leaned against her arm so he could see the pictures as she read. She was so absorbed in the little boy’s enjoyment of the story that she didn’t glance up when someone else walked into the waiting room.
“Daisy,” Grant said.
She hadn’t seen him for a month, but she was never going to forget the sound of his voice. Her heart began to pound.
Alex was off the chair and threw his arms around Grant’s neck in seconds.
“Hey, buddy. Good to see you,” Grant said. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m okay. The medicine’s icky.”
“I know. Want to hear the rest of the book?”
“Yeah,” Alex said.
Grant sat down in Alex’s chair, pulled him up onto his lap, and glanced over at Daisy. “I’m so glad to see you,” he said.
“Me too,” Daisy whispered. Tears blurred her eyes. She blinked them back as she fought for control. Crying in a public place wasn’t her favorite thing. The volunteer coordinator was going to think she was some kind of nut or shouldn’t be working around sick little kids.
“Why is she crying?” Alex asked. Daisy felt Alex’s chubby little hand on her cheek. “Don’t cry,” he said.
“It’s my fault, Alex. Want to look at the fish some more?” Grant said.
“Yeah.” Alex scrambled off of Grant’s lap and went back to watching the fish.
Daisy swallowed hard. There were better places for all of this to happen, but before he walked out of her life again, she needed to speak up. He reached out and took her hand in both of his.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to do anything that would hurt you. I wasn’t thinking, and I’m just so sorry. I understand why you were so mad at me. I deserved your anger and hurt.”
He reached out to stroke her face. “I should have called you a long time ago. I’ve accepted your apology a thousand times in the last month, and I should have been man enough to tell you that.” He brushed a tear off of her cheek with his thumb. “Will you accept my apology for not making this right a long time ago? I was a real asshole myself.”
Alex turned to face them. “You said a bad word, Grant. My mom would make you have a time-out.”
“That’s true, buddy. I’ll have to talk to your mom about that.”
Alex went back to watching the fish. Daisy was still trying to blink back the tears.
“Yes,” she said. “But you should have been mad—”
He put a fingertip over her lips. “Maybe we should start over. You know—Daisy, the beautiful woman who works next door to Purple in Bellevue, and Grant, the guy who works in a cubicle somewhere.” He stuck out his other hand. “Nice to meet you, Daisy.”
“Nice to meet you too,” she whispered.
“I miss you all the time,” Grant said.
“I miss you so much too,” Daisy said.
“I don’t want to be without you anymore,” he said. “Let’s try this again. You know, dinner, a movie, maybe some skydiving?”
“No jet car barbecue?”
“I’ll work on it,” he said. His voice dropped. “I don’t care where we go, as long as we’re together.” He reached out, took her face in his hands, and kissed her. His mouth was warm on hers. He tasted of mint. Maybe it wasn’t the best thing to use tongue in front of a four-year-old, but Daisy didn’t object. “Stay with me,” he whispered.
She heard an office door open and someone call out, “Daisy Spencer?” She pulled her mouth off of his and said, “I gotta go.”
“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” the woman said and grinned. “I never knew the waiting room was a good make-out spot.”
Daisy reached out to wipe her lip gloss off of Grant’s mouth. “Sorry about that.”
“They were kissing,” Alex told the woman. “My mom and dad kiss. And they say ‘I love you.’ A lot.”
“Maybe on our second date,” Daisy said. “It’s still a bit soon.” But she couldn’t stop the smile that spread over her mouth.
<
br /> Grant grinned at Daisy. “There’s no time like the present. I love you, Daisy Spencer.”
“I love you too, Grant Parker.”
“Now you have to get married,” Alex said. “You say you love each other, and you get married.”
“I love this kid,” Grant said.
“Maybe on our third date,” Daisy said.
“Perfect. Let’s do that,” Grant said.
Epilogue
Fourteen months later
GRANT PARKER ATTEMPTED to open his eyes and let out a groan. He was facedown on a beach. Somewhere. If he could get his eyes to focus, he might be able to figure out where he was.
He flipped over onto his back and let out another groan while the sun stabbed him in the face. It had to be just after sunrise. His head was pounding, and he had to piss like a racehorse. He tried to brush sand off of his face, only succeeded in getting it in his eyes, and swore extravagantly as he tried to a) get rid of the sand and b) piece together why he wasn’t in a warm, comfortable bed.
He’d gone out for drinks last night with his dickhead teammates and his soon-to-be father- and brother-in-law. He remembered a few of them and several rounds of mai tais or some other drink with an umbrella in it. They hadn’t tasted like they’d had alcohol in them. There’d been music and beautiful women doing the hula, and the guys had been giving him shit because tomorrow was his wedding day.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow. As in this morning. Fuck!
The wedding was at eleven AM or some other ridiculous time he’d tried to talk Daisy out of. She’d given him that smile he loved and said, “I don’t want to wait all day to become your wife. Let’s get married, have brunch with our friends, and go surfing.”
He’d signed another contract the month before (with a stunning number of zeroes), after the Sharks won the big game. He wasn’t sure how to tell her that surfing was now on the banned activities list, as well. At least those writing his contracts hadn’t said a word yet about bedroom-related activities, which could be more dangerous with Daisy than the items they’d already listed in the contract.
“How about some snorkeling instead?”
“Deal,” she’d told him.
A few minutes after that, she’d scampered out of his master bathroom wearing her new swimsuit. She’d wanted to model it for him. He’d had to take it off of her, they hadn’t left his room for several hours as a result, and he’d forgotten all about the fact he’d agreed to an eleven AM wedding until he got the invitation in the mail a month later.
He patted himself down as he worked up the courage to open his eyes again. He was going to have no choice at some point, but right now, he’d prefer waiting until he felt a bit more human. His fingers brushed the cell phone in his pocket. Thank God. He felt a credit card or a room key in the opposite pocket. He jammed one hand beneath himself to discover his wallet, still securely buttoned into his back pocket.
Okay. He could get back into his hotel room if he could open his eyes and get to his feet—that is, if he was still on the same island he’d arrived at so he could marry Daisy.
“Sir. Sir,” a voice above him said.
“Yeah?” he managed to croak out while slightly opening one eye. A guy wearing a uniform slowly came into view.
“You’re going to have to go back to your room.”
“I realize this probably isn’t a great way to start off our acquaintance, but where am I?”
“You’re on the beach at the Turtle Bay Resort. On Oahu.” The guy reached out a hand. “How about coffee? It’s on me.”
Grant was at the right place. They hadn’t put him on an inter-island flight and dumped his ass in the sand on Kauai or something.
“How did I get out here?”
“You told your buddies you wanted to sleep on the beach last night.”
“I must have been shit-faced.”
“Coffee,” the guy said. He helped Grant to his feet. “You can get your revenge on them later.”
Grant felt a bit wobbly and wondered if he was about to barf, but the world stabilized a little as he dug his toes into the sand.
“I’m getting married later.”
“Congratulations. Now let’s go get that coffee.”
DAISY AWOKE TO a knock on her hotel room door.
“Ms. Spencer? Room service,” a cheery voice called out. “May we come in?”
“Go ahead,” Daisy responded.
She was going to have to get in the bathroom and take care of things before the hair and makeup people arrived at eight thirty, but she could relax with a mimosa and some breakfast before the insanity began. They’d wanted a small, intimate wedding and ended up planning a 150-guest extravaganza on a Hawaiian beach after Grant informed her that he’d invited the entire team, as well as the coaches and their wives.
Her parents almost stroked out when they calculated how much the wedding would cost. Daisy still had some royalties from Overtime Parking. She’d also signed a contract with a publishing house for her flight-attendant memoir. She and Grant could afford to pay for their big day themselves.
“We’ll pay for it,” Grant told them as he squeezed Daisy’s hand. “Will it work for you to pick up the tab for the rehearsal dinner, Mr. Spencer?”
“Call me Gerald. The rehearsal dinner is on us,” Daisy’s dad told him.
Shortly afterward, he’d started calling Grant son, and they went out to hit a bucket of balls at the driving range and drink beer with Daisy’s brother while Daisy and her mom immersed themselves in the minutiae of planning a wedding. She knew Grant’s joining their family was a done deal when her brother invited him to some gaming exhibition. It turned out Grant loved being included.
Daisy scrambled out of bed when several women followed the rolling carts of food and drinks into her room.
“Hey, bride, it’s time for breakfast,” Catherine called out. “I brought some people with me. You’re okay with that, aren’t you?”
“I’m great with it,” Daisy said. She found herself inside a knot of women still in bathrobes and slippers, talking and laughing as they hugged her. The food carts kept rolling in. She’d ordered breakfast for five people; the kitchen must have gotten a different memo.
“We heard there are mimosas,” Megan Reed told her.
“We’d like you even if there weren’t free drinks,” Delisa said.
“Daisy, I checked on the flowers already. They’re perfect,” Amy Stephens said.
“Thank God I can drink this time. I could have a lot more fun when I’m out with the girls if my husband would stop getting me pregnant,” Holly Collins said. She patted her slightly rounded abdomen. “He walks into the room, raises an eyebrow, and I miss a period. Mama needs a mimosa, damn it.”
“Oh my God. We need to get that guy a hobby,” Cameron Anderson teased. “Then again, my husband says practice makes perfect.” Her voice dropped. “He wanted to reenact every scene in Daisy’s book. Let’s just say we came up with another plan when we almost got caught red-handed in our own backyard by Grandma.”
Sophie Carlson burst out laughing. “I hate it when that happens.”
Kendall McCoy’s hand strayed to her abdomen. Twenty-five women turned to stare at her in response.
“Well?” Jillian Taylor said.
“Of course, I’m pregnant. Couldn’t you tell when I was sneaking into the airplane bathroom all the way over here?”
There were hugs and congratulations, and Kendall took the glass of ice water Holly Collins pressed into her hand.
“You could have had an upset stomach,” Emily McKenna said.
“It’s been upset for three months now.” Kendall took a sip of water. “Drew spends every night with his hand on my belly waiting for the baby to move so he can feel it. He says he wants another little girl like Tessa, but I think I’d like a little boy like him.” She heaved a sigh. “I’m going to have to tell Matt eventually so we can start the planning for my maternity leave.”
Amy Stephens cleared her throat and t
ried to look mysterious.
“Okay, what do you know?” Emily asked her.
“Matt came home a couple of weeks ago and said, ‘I think Kendall might be expecting. She’s drinking herbal tea instead of lattes, and she’s been falling asleep on the plane rides home from games instead of working. Plus, she’s using the ladies’ room a bit more often these days.’ ”
“What did you tell him?”
“He knew I was pregnant before I figured it out,” Amy said. “It pissed me off. How can I surprise him with anything when he already knows?”
Daisy heard the tap-tap-tap of a piece of flatware against a glass. “Ladies,” her mom said, “the breakfast buffet is served.” She patted Grant’s mom, Martha, on the back. “Daisy told me that you and your husband do not drink. How about some freshly squeezed orange juice instead?”
Daisy moved in their direction. “I’ll get it for you, Mrs. Parker,” she said.
She still wasn’t sure what to call her mother-in-law. “Mrs. Parker” felt so formal. Calling her by her first name felt too informal. Maybe they could talk about it later and come up with a nickname or an endearment. Daisy knew Grant’s parents were trying hard to fit in. They had been so kind to her already.
“Oh, yes.” She reached out to kiss Daisy’s cheek. “I’m so excited I’m getting a daughter.”
“And I’m getting a second mom,” Daisy said. “Would you stay with us while I’m putting my dress on and stuff later? I would really like you to be here.”
To Daisy’s surprise, Martha’s eyes filled with tears. “I would love that.”
A FEW HOURS later, Daisy’s father helped her out of the golf cart that stopped a hundred yards or so from the bamboo archway festooned with flowers, vines, and tulle that looked out over the Pacific Ocean. The sun shone brightly in a startlingly blue sky. The center aisle had been covered by a white cloth runner, scattered with rose petals and small shiny green leaves, and flanked by 150 white wooden chairs for their guests. The breeze smelled like plumeria. She could hear the ocean waves against the sand, the soft sounds of a guitar, and the low hum of conversation among the guests waiting a short distance away. The skirt of her wedding gown rippled around her as she smoothed it with both hands.
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