by S. M. West
But that doesn’t stop me from going to the worst places in my mind. And now, I have a name and face to put to those nightmares. To those conjured scenarios that I don’t want to fathom and yet will never forget.
How can we be a family when I don’t even know what it means to be me? And all of this is all too easy. Too perfect. Life isn’t perfect.
I learned that the hard way more than ever and now…now, I’m filthy, angry, and ashamed.
How can Gray still want to be with me?
“Wouldn’t you agree, Daze?” Gray’s question cuts into the wormhole of my shadowy thoughts, pulling me back to the present.
“Sorry, what?” I blink a few times, gaze darting from Gray to Jocelyn and back. Both stare at me, clearly aware that I drifted off to somewhere else.
“I was just telling Jocelyn that if Henry takes a liking to her, we would like her to start as soon as possible.”
“Oh, yes.” I nod, and as if saved from any further awkwardness, Henry, bedraggled and cute, ambles into the room.
He holds Jellycat in one hand, most of its eight stuffed tentacles trailing along the floor, and yawns.
“Hey, Henry, we want you to meet someone.” Gray holds out his arm, and needing no more encouragement, Henry’s on his lap in no time.
Gray makes the introductions, and Jocelyn and Henry get to know each other. My phone buzzes on the coffee table and I pick it up. I’m waiting for a client’s response about a meeting time and hope this is it.
It isn’t. I stifle my groan and hit ignore. It’s a text from Jerome. Since we last spoke that day I told him I would find a few models for his portfolio, which I have, he texts me at least once a day.
Sometimes he’ll even mention that he knows I’m not working as if that’s enough for me to agree to his stupid photo shoot. Even if I was in the right frame of mind, I’d refuse to model for him.
He’s so persistent, and Gray has tried to get rid of him but with no luck. A couple of weeks ago, I sent an email with details for the models, so he can’t say I held up or ruined his shoot. Although I’m sure he’ll say that or anything else if he wishes.
I no longer open his texts. Many are unopened on my phone, and I’m tempted to delete them—delete him—but in fairness to him, he doesn’t know anything about Costa, Henry, and maybe Apollo and all of that. He can’t fully comprehend what I’m going through or why I don’t have time for his pettiness.
And I don’t want to tell him any of it. We aren’t friends. That’s becoming apparent more and more. I haven’t thought about reaching out to him or even missed our conversations. But maybe it isn’t fair to jump straight to ending the friendship when I’m not in the right headspace. How I feel may be about where I am at this moment and nothing to do with Jerome.
“Can you start tomorrow?” Gray asks Jocelyn, and his question yanks me back to my living room where Henry sits on the woman’s lap, laughing at something she said.
I turn to Gray at my side, surprised he wants her to start so soon. He isn’t looking at me and is most probably fully aware I checked out of this final interview.
“Oh, well, yes. Of course.” She’s a bit flustered or surprised at the timing, and I can’t blame her. A deep red creeps into her cheeks. “I didn’t expect to start so soon, but I can make it work.”
“We’ll only need you for a few hours in the afternoon. I’ll text you the time.” Gray shoves a hand into his pocket and secures his arm around my waist.
“We do?” I’m no longer able to stay quiet, intrigued and perplexed at the same time.
Gray’s easy grin causes a stir in my stomach. “Yup. It’s a surprise.” He turns back to Jocelyn. “Thanks again for coming, and we’re looking forward to working with you. The agency said they’d take care of the paperwork, and we’ll have keys for you tomorrow.”
“Wonderful.” She shakes my hand and then his before crouching to Henry to say goodbye.
She’s very kind and gentle with him, and once she’s promised to see him tomorrow, she leaves.
“We don’t need her to start until Monday.” I angle myself in his hold to fully face him once she’s gone. “What surprise?”
“You’ll just have to wait and see.” He kisses the tip of my nose, wearing a satisfied smirk.
27
Gray
Ready to bolt
Daisy pulls into the driveway of the beach house along the Pacific Coast Highway. Through the windshield of her car, she eyes me warily, a million questions flitting through her gaze.
I’d left early this morning for the studio and spent most of the day recording. Before lunch I sent her a text, asking her to meet me at this address at two p.m.
Excitement thrums in my veins like an electric current. I’ve had this surprise for over a week now, and it has been damn near impossible to keep my mouth shut. But the big reveal all depended on Daisy, and until now, she hasn’t been ready to receive this gift.
Once I heard about Apollo and what that might mean, I thought about putting this off but changed my mind. After moving forward with Jocelyn and having more and more conversations about making our living arrangements official, it feels like the right time.
Daisy needs something positive to look forward to. This surprise won’t lessen what she’s going through, but hopefully it’ll give her something to fight for—our future.
“What is this place?” She shuts the car door, glancing around the busy highway to her back and then up at the Malibu beach house.
“Don’t I even get a hello?” I open my arms and she embraces me.
My mouth presses to hers, and my tongue sweeps across the seam of her lips, delving in to stroke mine against hers. Daisy moans, tightening her grip on the back of my shirt.
“Hello.” Her voice is breathy when she pulls away, once more casting a glance to the left and the right of us, and then behind me to the front door. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
“Yes. All in good time. Do you want to go in?”
She nods, eyes glittering. “Yes. If we can.”
I take her hand and lead the walk through the front doors of the four-bedroom home with four levels starting at the beachy floor, one below us.
“Does it look familiar?” I shut the door behind her, and she stares at the stone fountain wall just inside the front entrance, mesmerized.
The tranquil trickling of water, cascading down the tiny, pebbled stones lining the wall, permeates the large, marble tiled foyer.
“Kind of. I think?” She drinks in the large, open space with wooden stairs and iron railings, leading both upstairs and downstairs.
Buttery sunlight streams in from the large skylight three floors above, and directly in front of us is the living room with its hardwood floors, gas fireplace, and one wall of windows.
And beyond the glass is the breathtaking view of the Pacific Ocean, literally steps from the house.
“Oh my goodness. This place is beautiful.” Daisy takes tentative steps toward the room, drinking in the view, and I stand back silently watching her.
Warmth fills my chest at the awe and wonder on her face. It’s the first time in awhile there hasn’t been a hint or trace of anxiety, sadness, or anger. Yes, this is the right time to bring her here.
“Is this…” She pauses, looking at me over her shoulder and motioning to the handle of the sliding glass door.
“Yes, you can open it. Go out onto the deck.” I saunter to her side, stepping onto the terrace with her.
Warm salty air and the hypnotic ebb and flow of the surf crashing onto the sandy shore envelop us. It’s amazing.
I’ve been here several times in as many weeks, and every time, when I walk out to look at Las Flores Beach, this view, the sounds, and the scents bring a smile to my face. A peace to my soul. I hope it’ll do the same for Daisy.
“Wasn’t this place for sale?” She rests her forearms on the balcony railing, staring out at the azure waves.
“Yes, it was one of the homes yo
u had in your pile of beach houses.”
Her gaze swings to me, eyes widening, and she snorts. “This house was a wild and crazy dream. I could hardly afford the others I’d selected to see. But this one,”—her fingers interlace as if in prayer—“this one was never a reality. I just loved how it looked and it was so close, no, right on the beach.”
I nod, smiling. “Yeah, it’s amazing, isn’t it?”
“It is, but Gray, why are we here? Whose house is this?” Now looking at me, her gaze is puzzled, some of that worry creeping back in.
“Let me show you the rest of the house and then I’ll answer all your questions.” My hand wraps around her arm, and once she releases her fingers, I take her hand.
Before heading up, I lead the way down to the ground floor, the beach. This floor is part inside and part outside. She studies the large sandy deck complete with a water grotto-style spa, a natural gas fire pit, bar, and flat screen TV.
Here the sounds of the waves and the gulls drown out any din from the highway. Next, we visit the state-of-the-art kitchen, dining room, and a guest bedroom, which I figured could be Daisy’s office.
Then we climb the stairs to the third floor, and she takes in the two bedrooms and bathrooms before we ascend one more floor. At the top of the house is the master bedroom that walks out to a private rooftop deck with coastline views and the bathroom which includes a large oval tub big enough for two and deep enough to fill the water to our shoulders.
“How big is this house?” Her hand runs along the white stone mantle of the gas fireplace along the center of one wall in the bedroom.
“A little over thirty-two hundred square feet.” I shove my hands into the front pocket of my jeans and shrug, not wanting her to get hung up on things like that.
The place is big. Way bigger than my small bachelor pad or even her barely fifteen hundred square foot home. Because if she gets hung up on the size, she’ll make the leap to the cost, and while it was a lot of money, I hadn’t made the decision lightly.
SG Productions is doing really well, I have money set aside for my mother’s care, and I have a good chunk in savings. Sure, the purchase of this home did take a fair amount of it, but I’ll make some of it back. I’m certain of it, and it isn’t like Daisy won’t want to contribute her fair share. I know her, and it will be a bone of contention if she thinks I’m gifting this home to her.
She gasps, “Wow. That’s big. And the ceilings.” She tilts her head back to admire the driftwood with the exposed beams. “It’s beautiful. Now tell me, why are we here?”
“Daisy, this is our new home.”
“What?” Her tone is flat as if what I said doesn’t make sense.
“We’ve been talking about moving in together, getting a place, and you wanted this place. It’s ours.”
“No.” She scurries past me a few feet and then stops before I can go after her, turning to face me.
I stiffen, pulling my hands from my pockets and inching toward her. She steps back, casting harried glances around the room. It’s like she’s looking for a way to escape.
“Gray, this costs millions. I can’t…”
“Before you go on about the cost, I figured you might have a problem with it. You can put your share toward it. What you can, when you can. And if you want, you can pay all or most of the bills. Whatever you want. We can figure all of that out, but don’t worry about it right now.”
I reach for her, needing her close, needing to calm the tornado of uncertainty brewing inside her. But she isn’t having any of it and steps out of my grasp, head shaking from side to side.
“Gray, I don’t need saving.” She’s annoyed, and I’m confused as to where that came from.
“What are you talking about?”
“Just because you couldn’t save your sister, doesn’t mean you can make up for that by saving me. I don’t need saving.” She folds her arms over her chest, teeth sinking into her bottom lip. “Besides, what happened to your sister isn’t your fault. You were a child too.”
“This has nothing to do with Robin. This is about us, our future. And I’m not trying to save you.” Even as I say the words, a small speck of it is a bitter lie, and it burns my tongue.
The lie isn’t about Robin. I’ve long since come to terms with the fact that I couldn’t save her. I was only a child too. My only regret is not leaving with her.
No, the lie is about saving her. Until this moment, I only wanted to help, to make sure she understood she isn’t alone, but in doing so it may have felt to her like I was trying to save her. Fix something that I couldn’t or that she didn’t want fixed.
I shift on my feet, willing myself to stay rooted to this spot. Not to get any closer. It’s very clear she’s ready to bolt at any moment, and I must get through to her.
“I can never fully imagine what you’re going through, and I understand that I can’t make it go away as much as I wish I could. But I also want you to know that I love you and I’m here.” I press my hand to my chest, our eyes connected. “And I’m not leaving you.”
“This isn’t me. My life doesn’t work out this way.” Silent tears spill from her turbulent eyes. “My modeling career ended abruptly because I became pregnant.”
No sooner are the words out than she slaps a hand viciously over her mouth. A painful sob breaches the barrier of her fingers.
“Oh God, that came out wrong. I didn’t mean it like that. I would never trade Henry for anything.”
She leans forward as if her knees might give out. Before I can get to her, she straightens and steps back to ensure we keep our distance.
“Gray, I love you too, and I love how kind and loving you are to think about doing something like this. But the house, the nanny, the amazing, wonderful man that you are”—she points to me and it feels like an arrow to my heart—“I can’t…it’s too much.”
“Daisy, what’s too much? You and Henry and I are a family. We stick together.”
“I’m a mess. I can’t focus on the future or any of this. I don’t even know who I am anymore, what I want. Why would you want this with me right now?” Her question plunges into my gut. How can she even ask that?
“I love you. Everything I’ve ever wanted. And I don’t care how long it takes you to figure this out. I’m here for you and will help you.”
“And what if I don’t figure it out?” Walking backward, eyes still on me, she edges out of the room. “What if I’m never myself again?” A few more steps away from me, closer to the staircase.
“What if that Daisy”—she points behind her as if there’s another version of her standing there, fading into nothingness—“never comes back?”
She’s now at the top of the stairs. “What if this,”—she waves her hand over her body, a sneer plastered across her face—“what I’ve become, a shell of who I once was, is all that’s left?”
One foot on the step, she grasps the railing. “I won’t do that to you, Gray. I won’t ask you or expect you to live with this.”
“Daisy. Daisy.” I chase after her, body shaking.
Turmoil and sorrow pour from her like water from a tap on full force, blanketing not only her but also me in desolation so vast that I feel it darkening my soul.
28
Daisy
The brutal truth
I fly down the stairs, hand barely gripping the railing. As much as I don’t want to tumble down these steps, holding on will only slow me down. All it would take is one misstep and I would break my neck.
“Daisy!” My name is a low, anxious growl from Gray, and his anguish is a sledgehammer to my chest, cracking my ribs, splintering my breath, and pulverizing my heart.
I don’t want to hurt him. I don’t even want to run, but if I don’t, I might drown.
This house—no, not just the house—everything working out, falling into place, and all that it represents is like a sinking ship. And I’m stuck on it.
Like the Titanic, it feels too big to stop from going under, but so beau
tiful. And all I’m able to do is ruin it. Whether I stay or go, everything is ruined eventually.
My ballet flats hit the main floor, and I glide to the door, fingers curling around the handle. Gray’s ragged breathing and hurried footsteps are a shadow’s breath away, and I spin to face him.
“I need space. This is all too much.” My fingers dig grooves into my once tidy ponytail, nails curling into my scalp. The pain anchors me. “I’ll call you. Just give me some space. Please.”
Sadness flickers in his warm crystalline gaze but he nods, backing away with his hands up as if to say, I won’t push, I’m not a threat.
He never does anything to hamper me, hurt me. He could never be a threat even when I feel crowded and confused. It’s my doing, not his. Gray always gives me what I want.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to go too fast.”
“No, this isn’t on you, Gray. I don’t know what I’m doing. Too many things are still unanswered and may never be answered, and I don’t know…I just need time…space.”
“Okay. Please call. I love you, Daisy.”
Back on the Pacific Coast Highway, the tears fall freely. As much as I want Gray and all that he has to offer, what if it’s shattered one day too? That I couldn’t bear. I’m hardly hanging onto what of me is broken.
I dare not trust what we have even if it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever had. I willingly trusted so much before, trusted that my life was solid, that nothing and no one could get to me, ever truly hurt me. I’d been wrong. So very wrong.
Sure, I’d had disappointments and heartaches before, but nothing indelible, nothing I couldn’t get past. And now? Now I don’t know.
My phone rings as I near my house, and it’s Sasha. I send her to voicemail, and as much as she hates that, I can’t talk to her right now. I can hardly make sense of things at this moment, and she’ll only tell me how much of a fool I am. This I know.