by S. M. West
She nods, letting out a tiny brrr and follows me into the house. “Yes, it’s nice out but chilly.”
Shutting the door behind me, I lean into it and watch her walk to the middle of the room where she turns to face me.
“Can we forget about Jerome?”
“Yes, I should get going.” I step closer, sliding a finger under her chin to tilt her head up and capture her gaze. “But know that I’m here for you, if you need me to talk to him.”
“I don’t but thank you. Before you go, I want to talk about you. Did you get a chance to talk to Silas about the studio?”
“Yeah. He wants me to check out some property for sale, and he agreed to seeing the studio for lease.”
“Is that a good thing? Sounds like he might be open to waiting.”
“Yeah. I think he’ll come around. I only hope it’s quick so we can sign the lease before someone else snaps it up.”
“It’s going to work out, I know it.” She pauses and stares at me. “So how’d it go with India? Did she stick around and nap?” Her cynical tone contradicts the blank expression she’s trying to keep in place.
A warmth spreads through my chest at the change in subject. India must have been on her mind, and a deep rumble of laughter bubbles up my throat. “Are you jealous?”
“What? No.” She steps back and spins on her heel, giving me her back. “I was just asking. Why would I be jealous of India Holt?”
Her hand reaches back to me, and I take it as she tugs me toward the front of the house. Damn, I did say I was leaving.
“Exactly. You’ve nothing to be jealous about.” I stop and yank on her hand gently, causing her to stop.
Patiently, I wait for her to face me. She’s rigid and still for a few beats, but eventually, we’re face to face.
“India is a client, and I suppose, a friend. But that’s it.” I’m now in her space with only a few inches between us. Once more, my hand glides under her chin to bring her gaze to mine.
“She’s a lot more than that.” Her voice is a hesitant whisper. “She’s talented and beautiful, and she likes you a lot. And—”
“She may be all those things.” I take her hands in mine, lifting one to my mouth and planting a soft kiss on the palm of her hand. The heat of her and the gratifying scent of vanilla and warm sugar surround me. “You are the only one I see. Always.”
9
Daisy
Deepest secrets and wildest fantasies
My neck aches from slanting to one side for the better part of the afternoon while I clicked shot after shot from what was a successful photo shoot. One hand works the tight muscles of my shoulder while the other turns the key in the ignition.
The engine starts and my phone buzzes in the cupholder. My best friend Sasha’s name and Paris number lights up the car dashboard. It’s early for her, almost five in the morning Paris time, given it’s nearly eight in the evening here.
“Hey, girl. Are you starting your day or going to bed?” My droll tone doesn’t hide that I don’t miss how the lifestyle can do a wicked number on your body’s internal clock, among other things.
Her lyrical laughter greets me. “Daze, I’ve just gotten up. I’ve got another one of those long days with Jean-Luc, you know how it is.”
“Ah, no, not anymore. I haven’t worked with him in years.” There’s a hint of nostalgia to my tone while I needn’t remind her of my absence.
Jean-Luc is a fabulous photographer and just one of many fantastic people in the industry. Sometimes I miss modeling. It was my dream from a young age.
Well, honestly, I miss the people more than anything else, especially Sasha. I’d have gone insane, packed my bags, and headed back to the USA early on in my career without her.
“Don’t remind me. Paris just isn’t the same without you.” I can see her pout in the tone of her voice. “I’m calling because I miss you.” She sniffs and my smile is melancholy, feeling the same way.
It’s been nearly two years. She came for a few days after Henry was born and that’s been it. Despite not seeing her in what feels like forever, we’re close and talk at least once a week.
“Aaand, I’ve booked my flight to LA. I’m coming in two days.” She’s all squeals and giggles, and despite how tired I am, I find my inner cheerleader.
“That’s amazing.” My hands drum along the dashboard. “How long are you staying?”
She has promised to visit for months now, but that’s easier said than done. Her career is booming, so scheduling has been tricky. This will be the third time she’s booked a flight, but the last two times she had to postpone. I only hope this one sticks.
“I’ll be there for two, maybe three weeks. Or maybe forever. I haven’t decided yet.” Her chuckle is forced since she’s itching to make a move career wise or life wise but she’s undecided. Before I can question her, she barrels on, “I’ll text you my flight and hotel details.”
She’s welcome to stay with me, but I only have two bedrooms. While we’ve slept in the same bed countless times, she’s also accustomed to a certain lifestyle that my modest bungalow can’t provide.
“I’m so excited. If you stick around longer, maybe we can go house hunting together?”
“Ooh, you’re still looking for a beach house?”
“More like wishing, but yeah. Oh, on the day you arrive, I have the awards ceremony so we’ll definitely have to see each other the next day. Okay?”
“Hell yeah. And you can tell me all about the evening.”
“For sure. I can’t wait to see you.”
“Me too, but something is…what’s wrong?” Sasha’s tone brooks no room for denial, but I’m at a loss.
“What do you mean?”
“I thought you’d be jumping around and screaming.”
“Well, for starters, I’m in a car so that would make jumping difficult. And it’s the end of a very long workday so my energy is low. But, babe, I am excited.”
“Don’t lie to me. I can hear something in your voice.”
“What am I supposed to do with that? You’re being vague and totally off base.”
She huffs, not amused. “Daisy, tell me what’s going on with you. You sound sad or confused…and before you say it’s nothing, it’s something. So. Tell. Me.”
I blurt the first thing to come to mind. “I went on a date last week.”
“A date? With who?” Sasha’s voice rises, fully invested.
“He’s a client. Well, he was a client. He just asked me out of the blue, catching me totally off guard. We’d just wrapped his shoot and I’d been paid…” I don’t know why I feel the need to make it clear he was no longer a client at the time of the date, but it’s important to me.
“Whatever, go on.” Her predictable impatience brings a small smile to my face. “How was the date?”
“Fine. I mean, he was a nice enough guy, and we had an okay time. Truthfully, I don’t think of him as anything more than a client and nice guy. And our dinner didn’t change that. And then he texted me today asking me out again.”
“And? Did you say no? Or are you going to give it another try?”
“I haven’t responded, but it’ll be a no.”
“Is it the whole working together thing?”
“No, not that. I doubt we’ll be working together anytime soon. I just don’t want to. I’m not interested in him that way.”
“Okay, so why do you sound so…so glum? It feels like you’re not telling me everything. What are you leaving out?”
My hands grip the steering wheel, and I stare out into the darkness. Voicing my silly and sometimes illogical opinions out loud can be scary. “I haven’t seen anyone since Costa.”
“Oh God, please don’t tell me this is about that man.” Now she’s irritated.
“No, not at all. I’m over him. I mean, you know I was never in love with him.”
“True, but he’s the father of your child. Worthless bastard that he is. Don’t even get me started.”
I
chuckle and shake my head. The truth is Sasha would love nothing more than to rail on Costa. And she could easily kill an hour doing so. To say she doesn’t like him would be an understatement.
“No, this has nothing to do with Costa. What I’m trying to say is, having Henry changed my perspective on almost everything, including men. Until this guy asked me out, I hadn’t given the opposite sex any thought in years.”
I press my lips together, holding the mention of Gray. I’m not being entirely truthful, because he’s the only man I’ve thought about and at times, like more than a friend.
She releases a sharp, abrupt laugh. “I wish I could forget about men, but I love sex too much.” We’re both silent and I’m stuck in my head when she says, “Go on, darling.”
“That’s changed now.” If I can tell anyone my deepest secrets and wildest fantasies, it’s Sasha.
“What’s changed?”
“Aren’t you paying attention?” My tone is lighthearted even if my insides are growing heavier with each passing second.
All of what I’m sharing, saying out loud, isn’t something I’ve even fully acknowledged to myself. It’s a verbal mind-dump and I’m not sure if I’m ready.
“Daze, it’s the ass-crack of the morning here, and I’m exhausted but tell it to me straight. I’m listening and I want to help.”
“What I’m trying to say is I think I’m ready for more. I might actually…no, not might…I want a relationship with someone. And that’s why I said yes to the date even if the guy held no interest. It was more out of exploration. You know, why not?”
“Of course, I get it. You had dinner or drinks and it was fine, but you don’t want to go out again. That’s cool. Go out with someone else. It doesn’t have to end with this one blah date.”
“I know.”
“So what’s got you in knots? And before you tell me I’m crazy or it’s nothing, don’t bother.”
The words strangle my tongue. I open and close my mouth, but nothing comes out. Why am I so scared to say it? What’s the worst that can happen? She laughs at me. Tells me I’m crazy?
“Gray.” My throat is near parched and it takes everything in me to say his name, holding my breath for her response.
“Gray! Grayson Bennett…ahhh, how is that fabulous man?”
Air whooshes from me on a laugh, relieved at the sound of her voice, filled with a smile and hearts in her eyes. Sasha met Gray once. Once. And fell immediately in love with him. One look at Henry in his arms and she said, “Snag that man before someone else does.”
“He’s…great. Amazing as always.”
“Of course he is. And you’ve finally admitted your attraction to him. Hallelujah. I thought I’d be living at an old age home by the time you did.” She cackles at my expense. “You have feelings for your best friend. This is what you’re saying, right?”
I don’t answer her. She’s dragging this out like I did, and now I want the conversation to be over.
I haven’t even mentioned his dinner invitation, which I still can’t figure out if he meant it like dinner between friends—which we’ve done a million times before—or a date. My stomach is a bundle of nerves, and a strange queasiness teases its way up my throat.
“Daze, what’s the problem?”
“I don’t think it’s new. My feelings. I think it’s been growing over the months and I didn’t realize it. And it’s like things changed or something shifted in me when I was asked out on a date. And then, when I had to tell Gray…argh, I felt awful.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Now I feel awkward and I’m second-guessing myself when it comes to him. And I don’t want that. We haven’t talked in days.”
“What? You haven’t talked? That doesn’t sound like him.”
“No, we have talked, and we see each other nearly every day. He sees Henry every day.”
No matter my schedule or his, he never fails to see my son. For instance, today, Henry was with Pansy at my place and Gray had dinner with them.
“Then what do you mean?”
“It’s just…when we do talk, because we’re so busy, it’s short and to the point, scheduling around Henry, how was your day and stuff like that.”
This is where my confusion with dinner comes in. It has been a while since we’ve had dinner together. And now my life is getting busier than ever, so picking a night for a meal together isn’t strange. And could be so unlike a date.
“And…why am I dragging this out of you? Just say it. We’ll both feel better once you do.”
I snort out a laugh and put on my seat belt, needing to get home and to have something else to occupy my troubled mind while I spill my guts.
“And I feel…a bit lost because usually our conversations are more than that, and I think I’m the one making it awkward.”
Sasha doesn’t fill the silence, and it’s plain to see her passive-aggressive maneuver is designed to keep me talking. “Something happened last week, and I don’t know if it means anything.”
Still she says nothing, but I swear I hear her “Oh my God, Daisy, just tell me already” in the silence.
To torture her some more or maybe me, too, I say, “I won’t bore you with all the details—”
“No, do because so far I’m only getting half a story and trying desperately not to jump through the phone line and choke you.”
She’s joking, but I want to throttle me too.
“There’s a singer and she likes him—she’s always liked him, and he’s never shown any interest or anything. But last week, the day after my date, she was there and all over him. I wanted to rip her eyes out, and I’ve never felt that way before.”
The words spill from me like water from a tap even as my brain is screaming “stop talking” and I can’t help myself. “And I don’t dislike her. She’s a nice person, for the most part—”
“Okay, okay. I get it. She’s encroaching on your man.”
“But that’s the thing, he isn’t my man. He’s my best friend and here I am, getting stupidly jealous, and as if that isn’t bad enough, I also let him see that her crawling all over him bothered me. Then he did the strangest thing.”
My thighs clench at the memory of his soft, firm lips pressing into the palm of my hand.
“What did he do?” Her tone sharpens, and I envision her eyes narrowing into slits and her mouth tightening as if ready to kill him or rip him a new one if I asked her to.
“Calm down, nothing like that.” I hit the blinker to signal a right turn. “He reassured me that he isn’t interested in India. In more ways than one.”
And maybe that’s what the dinner invitation was? A way to put me at ease.
“How’d he reassure you?”
“He asked me out to dinner, and before you get all excited, I don’t think he was asking me out on a date. And then he just came out and told me he wasn’t interested in her.”
And he showed me in not so many words, but the simple, innocent kiss to my hand is for me and me alone. “In fact, he said as much by telling me I’m the only one he sees.”
“Daisy! Oh my God! Oh my God! I think my ovaries exploded. He did ask you on a date. He’s so into you. See, I told you so.”
A strong, weird tugging on my heart causes my hand to press into my chest. “Gray’s sweet…and sexy…and you already know that. And I’m not sure what it really means, and we haven’t really talked since then.”
“You need to fix that. Talk to him. Tonight.”
“I can’t tonight. I’m on my way home. Pansy’s with Henry, waiting for me.”
“Well, darling, you need to get in his face and talk to him. You have to find time for dinner and before I get there. I will not stand for you dragging this out like you did this conversation.”
“What?” My voice rises at the thought.
“Do you want more with Gray? Or are you fine to continue as good friends?”
My heart spasms. “I-I don’t want to lose him.”
“You won’t lose h
im, and you may not realize it but I’m pretty sure he’s been taking cues from you. And while I don’t know Gray as well as you do, I’m also willing to bet everything I own that he’s already told you how he feels about you. You’ve just been blind to it.”
I’m ready to protest when the moment in Pansy’s hallway and then the night last week rushes at me, his words, his lips on my flesh. Shoot, she’s right. Or at least, I hope she’s right.
“What if we try this thing and it blows up in our faces?” I park my car outside my house. “He’s like a father to Henry, and I don’t want to ruin that.”
“I understand, and I highly doubt his relationship with Henry is in jeopardy. They have a bond that no matter what, you wouldn’t do anything to sever, so don’t even go there. But let’s play it out if you do nothing. What happens if things stay status quo? Then what? Gray goes out with this India woman. Or someone else. They grow close, move in together, fall in love.”
Her game of what if throat punches me and I cough, sputtering for the words. “I’d kick myself and then I’d really want to rip her eyes out. I don’t know if I could stand seeing them together…”
My mouth clamps shut, not willing to play out any more scenarios as nausea gathers in my stomach.
“And there’s your answer. Make your move.”
Sasha and I are always brutally honest with each other, and it’s one of the things we love most about the other. She isn’t saying anything I haven’t already whispered to myself in the darkest hours of contemplation.
“I’m sending you my flight details, and I’ll see you soon. When we see each other face-to-face, I want to hear all about the mind-bending sex you had with Gray. I love you, Daisy.”
A burst of girlish laughter erupts from me, filling the car. “Love you, too, Sash.”
10
Gray
Baring my soul
The heady flavors of garlic and sesame waft through the air and my stomach growls as I walk through the door.