At half past eight, Daisy pulled into a parking spot next to a Mercedes. This was the first time she’d gone out by herself since Steven’s passing, and it did feel strange. Like she’d forgotten something at home. The sort of panicky feeling she’d usually get when she was in line at the airport before a trip, like she’d left the tickets on the dining room table even though she knew they were in her purse. She wondered how much longer until the panicky feeling went away? Until she was used to going out alone.
And dating. Forget it. She didn’t think she’d ever be ready for that.
Daisy entered the glass double doors and caught a glimpse of her smeared reflection in the polished brass railing as she walked past the restaurant and down a long hall toward the banquet room. She wore a red sleeveless cocktail dress she’d borrowed from Lily. Daisy was a few inches taller than her five-foot-two-inch sister, a little bigger in the chest too. Red might not be the most appropriate color to wear to a wedding reception, but it was the only dress Lily owned that wasn’t too short or too tight across Daisy’s breasts.
Covered silk buttons ran up the right side from the hem to her armpit, and her mother’s small red purse hung from a long gold chain on her shoulder.
She set the gift she’d bought earlier on a table beside the door, and she moved just inside the banquet room. The bridal party stood before teal-and-gold swags in a traditional line while a male photographer snapped pictures with a digital camera.
About two hundred people toasted the happy couple with flutes of champagne. Teal and gold festooned everything and colored candles flickered atop round tables covered in white cloths. To Daisy’s left, rows of chafing dishes served what looked like barbeque chicken, roast beef, vegetables, and chili. Most of the guests were already seated while others milled around.
The photographer wasn’t using a video light to capture the glow of the room, which Daisy thought was too bad. If she’d been hired for the shoot, she would have packed a number of cameras and numerous lenses in her gearbox. In this particular room, she would have used 1600 color film with on-camera flash and a video light to enhance ambient light in the background. Every photographer worked a little differently, though. This guy’s photographs would probably turn out all right.
“. . . to Jimmy and Shay Calhoun,” someone toasted. Daisy grabbed a flute of champagne and turned her attention from the photographer to the bridal party. As her gaze scanned the line, she raised the glass to her mouth, careful not to smudge her red lipstick. Behind her flute, Daisy smiled as her eyes took in her friend from high school. Sylvia was decked out in some sort of teal gauze and gold satin harem-girl outfit. She was as big as a house. Not fat. Very pregnant. She looked tired, but as cute as ever, and was as short as Daisy remembered; and she still wore the same lacquered bangs and big hair as in school.
Shay looked beautiful with her Texas-sized curls bouncing at her shoulder and soft veil floating like a cloud around her. Jimmy Calhoun was better looking than he’d been when Daisy had lived here before. Or maybe he just cleaned up nice in his tux. She wasn’t sure, but his red hair was a shade or two darker and all his freckles had faded.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” a voice she instantly recognized spoke directly behind her. She scooted sideways out of the doorway and glanced over her shoulder, looking past the defined line of Jack Parrish’s mouth and up into his beautiful eyes.
His gaze locked with hers as he passed, and the sleeve of his charcoal blazer brushed her bare arm. Surprise halted his footsteps for about half a heartbeat, and within that fraction of a second, something hot and alive flashed behind his eyes. Just as quickly it was gone, and Daisy wasn’t sure if it had been a trick of the two chandeliers overhead or of the flickering candlelight. He moved past, and she watched his broad shoulders and the back of his head as he wove his way through the crowd toward the bride and groom. His dark hair brushed the back of his collar and looked finger-combed, as if he’d just taken off his hat, tossed it on the seat of his car, and fixed his hair. In his suit, he looked liked he’d just stepped out of a fashion magazine. And as always, he moved with an easy, laid-back stride that made it clear he was in no great hurry to get anywhere.
A little flutter that had nothing to do with his looks, and everything to do with who he was to her and her son, stirred in her stomach.
“Daisy Lee Brooks!” Sylvia hollered and Daisy turned her gaze to her friend. “You get over here.” Sylvia’s voice had always been bigger than the rest of her. It had made her an excellent cheerleader.
Daisy laughed and walked to the front. She moved to stand beside Jack, who was speaking with the groom. She hugged her friend and Mr. and Mrs. Brewton. Sylvia introduced her to her husband, Chris, then said, “You remember Jimmy Calhoun.”
“Hello, Daisy.” Jimmy grinned, his silver tooth gone, replaced by porcelain. “You look great.”
“Thank you.” She glanced up at Jack who was doing a good job of pretending she wasn’t alive. Her gaze lowered to his shoulders and the blue dress shirt between the lapels of his suit jacket. He wasn’t wearing a tie. She returned her attention to the groom. “You look good yourself, Jimmy. I can’t believe you married little Shay Brewton. I remember when Sylvia and I tried to teach her to ride a bike and she ran into a tree.”
Shay laughed and Jimmy said, “I bet you thought I’d be in prison by now.”
In the seventh grade, Jimmy and his Calhoun brothers had piled into their daddy’s Monte Carlo, pressed their naked behinds to the windows, and mooned the middle school. In the tenth, Jimmy had called in a bomb threat because he wanted to get out of school a few hours early. He got caught because he used the pay phone outside the principal’s office. “The thought never entered my head.”
Sylvia laughed because she knew better. Daisy felt herself relax. The flutter in her stomach calmed. Now wasn’t the time nor place to tell Jack about Nathan. She didn’t have to think about it. She could relax. Have fun with old friends. It had been a long time since she’d had a little fun.
“Jack, do you remember the time you and Steven and I got arrested for racing out on the old highway?” Jimmy asked.
“Sure.” He pulled back his cuff and looked at his watch.
“Were you there that night, Daisy?”
“No.” She once again glanced up at the man by her side. “I never liked it when Steven and Jack raced cars. I was always afraid someone would get hurt.”
“I was always in control.” Jack dropped his hand to his side and his fingers brushed her dress. He lowered his gaze to her, and his eyes were without expression when he said, “I was always safe.”
No, being with him had rarely been safe.
“I was real sorry to hear about Steven,” Jimmy said and she returned her gaze to him. “He was a good guy.”
Daisy never knew what to say to that, so she raised her glass to her lips.
“Shay told me he died of brain cancer.”
“Yes.” It had a name, glioblastoma. And it was horrible and always fatal.
“I’ve been fixin’ to get a hold of your momma to ask how you’re doing,” Sylvia told her.
“I’m okay.” Which was the truth. She was okay. “Goodness, when’s this baby due?” she asked Sylvia, purposely changing the subject.
“Next month.” She rubbed her big belly. “And I am more than ready. Do you have children?”
“Yes.” She was very aware of Jack, of the sleeve of his jacket so close to her arm that if she moved just a fraction, she would feel the texture of it against her bare skin. “My son, Nathan,” she said and purposely didn’t reveal his age. “He’s in Seattle with Steven’s sister Junie and her husband Oliver.” She glanced up at Jack and gone was his carefully blank expression. Surprise filled his green eyes and lifted a brow. “You remember Junie don’t you?”
“Of course,” he said and looked away.
“I remember her,” Sylvia elaborated. “She was a lot older than us. I remember Steven’s parents were pretty old too.”
> Steven had been a real surprise when his parents were in their mid forties. They were both sixty-three when he graduated high school. His mother was gone now, and his father lived in a retirement community in Arizona.
“Shay and I are gonna get to work on making a baby tonight.” Jimmy laughed. “Don’t want to wait too late in life to have a baby.”
Jack reached inside his jacket and pulled a cigar from the breast pocket of his dress shirt. “Congratulations,” he said and handed it to Jimmy.
Jimmy pulled the cigar through his fingers. “My favorite. Thanks.”
“Don’t I get one?” Shay protested with a smile.
“I didn’t know you smoked cigars,” Jack said as he reached for her hand. He took it from the folds of her dress and brought it to his mouth. “Congratulations, Shay. Jimmy is a very lucky man.” He kissed her knuckles and drawled just above a whisper, “If he doesn’t treat you right, you let me know.”
Shay smiled and touched her curls with her free hand. “Are you going to open a can of whoop ass on my behalf?”
“For you, I’ll open two.” He dropped her hand, then he excused himself.
Daisy’s gaze fell to his broad shoulders as he made his way to the bar set up in one corner.
“He could always charm the pants off anyone,” Sylvia sighed. “Even in the fifth grade.”
She turned her attention to Sylvia as the others around them talked about football. While they debated whether the Cowboys needed stronger defense or offense, Daisy leaned her head closer to Sylvia.
“What happened with you and Jack in the fifth grade?” she asked her friend.
A wistful smile curved Sylvia’s lips, and the two of them turned to watch Jack order a beer at the bar.
“Come on,” Daisy wheedled.
“He talked me into showing him my bottom.”
In the fifth grade? She and Jack and Steven had been playing NASCAR in the fifth grade. Not doctor. “How?”
“He told me he’d show me his if I showed him mine.”
“That’s all it took?”
“I don’t have brothers, and he doesn’t have sisters. We were curious and checked out each other’s bottoms. Nothing bad happened. He was real sweet about it.”
She’d never known that while he was boring her with Richard Petty stats, he was running around checking out other girl’s bottoms. She wondered what else she didn’t know.
“Don’t tell me you were friends with Jack Parrish all those years and never showed him yours.”
“Not in the fifth grade.”
“Honey, sooner or later, everyone showed Jack their bottom.” She ran her hand over her big belly. “It was just a matter of time.”
Daisy was seventeen and practically had to beg him to look at her bottom. If she remembered correctly, his words had been, “Stop, Daisy. I don’t mess around with virgins.” But he had, and they’d begun a wild sexual relationship that they’d kept secret from everyone. Even Steven. Especially Steven. It had been crazy and thrilling and intense. A roller coaster ride of love and jealousy and sex. And it had ended very badly.
Long forgotten memories rushed at Daisy, as if suddenly set free. One here, another there. A tangled mess of memory and chaotic emotion, as if they’d been smashed together, thrown in a box, and hurriedly taped shut. Waiting all these years for someone to rip the tape off and throw open the tabs.
She recalled her own wedding. She and Steven at the courthouse. Her mother and his parents standing with them. Steven squeezing her hand to keep it from shaking. She’d loved Steven Monroe for years before she married him. Maybe not a hot burning kind of love. Maybe she didn’t crave him like a drug, but that kind of love didn’t last. It burned out. The love she’d felt for Steven had always been warm and comfortable, like coming home cold and tired, curling up in front of a fire. That kind of love lasted, and it would last long after Steven’s passing.
She remembered riding with Steven in his car, on their way to tell Jack about their marriage. Her pregnancy had made her sick to her stomach. What they were about to do made her chest tight. She’d started to cry even before they pulled onto Jack’s street. Again, Steven had held her hand.
She and Steven had been through a lot together, and everything they’d faced had brought them closer. Their first few years of marriage while he was attending school had been rough financially. Then when Nathan turned four, Steven got a good job and they decided to add another child to their family only to find out that Steven had a low sperm count. They’d tried everything to conceive, but nothing worked. After five years, they decided to give up and were happy with their lives.
The room suddenly went dark and Daisy was jarred from the past. A spotlight shined on the center of the dance floor, and she tried to push all thoughts of the past from her head. Jed and the Rippers picked up their instruments and Jimmy and Shay danced their first dance as husband and wife.
When Daisy had decided to come home and tell Jack about Nathan, she hadn’t counted on the memories. She hadn’t even known they were there, locked away, waiting for her.
Daisy moved away from the dance floor and placed her empty glass on a table. She headed to the bathroom in the bar down the hall, and while she washed her hands, she looked at her reflection. She was no longer a scared, heartbroken girl. She was a lot tougher than she’d been growing up. While she wasn’t here to relive memories, she wouldn’t hide from them either. She was here to tell Jack about Nathan. She would tell him that she was sorry and hope he’d understand. Although she was fairly certain he wouldn’t understand and would make things difficult, she still had to do the right thing. No more putting it off. No more hiding.
She reapplied her red lipstick and dropped it into her purse. Let Jack do his worst. She might even deserve some of it, but she’d survive. She’d lived with just about the worst that life could deal her, and nothing Jack could do would be as bad as that.
Daisy stopped in the bar and bought a glass of wine, then made her way back toward the banquet room.
Jack stood in the long hall with one shoulder shoved against the wall. He held a cell phone in one hand, the other was in the front pocket of his pants. He glanced up and watched her as she moved toward him.
“That’d be fine,” he said into the phone. “I’ll see y’all first thing Monday.”
Her first impulse was to hurry past, but she stopped in front of him instead. “Hey, Jack.”
He disconnected and put the phone in his pocket. “What do you want, Daisy?”
“Nothing. Just being friendly.”
“I don’t want to be ‘friendly’ with you.” He straightened away from the wall and took his hand from his pocket. “I thought I made myself clear last night.”
“Oh, you did.” She took a drink of her wine, then asked, “How’s Billy?” All she remembered of Jack’s brother was a pair of shiny blue eyes and sandy blond hair. Other than that, she couldn’t recall much about him.
He looked over her head and said, “Billy’s good.”
She waited for him to elaborate. He didn’t. “Married? Kids?”
“Yep.”
“Where’s Gina?” His gaze met hers and, in that suit, his eyes appeared more gray than green.
“At Slim Clem’s, I imagine.”
“She’s not here?”
“I don’t see her.”
She took another sip of her wine. She was going to be pleasant if it killed her. Or him. “You didn’t bring her with you?”
“Why would I?”
“Isn’t she your girlfriend?”
“Whatever gave you that idea?”
They both knew what had given her that idea. “Oh, maybe because she was wearing your shirt last night, and nothing else.”
“You’re wrong about that. She was wearin’ a black lace thong.” One corner of his mouth slid up, purposely provoking her—the jerk. “And a satisfied smile. You remember that smile, don’t you, Daisy?”
She would not lose her temper and give him what
he wanted. “Don’t flatter yourself, Jack Parrish. You weren’t that memorable.”
“What? I was talking about Gina’s smile last night.” The other corner of his mouth slid up and laugh lines appeared in the corners of his eyes. “What were you talking about, buttercup?”
They both knew he hadn’t been talking about Gina’s smile. “You haven’t changed since high school.” She gave him a withering glance and walked away before she lost her temper and said something she might regret. Like that he should grow up.
Jack watched her go. His smile flat-lined, and his gaze slid from her blond hair, all slick and smooth, down the back of her red dress to her behind and the backs of her thighs. Who the hell was she to judge him? She’d screwed around with him, said she’d love him forever; then married his best friend the same week he buried both his parents. In his book, that made her a hardcore bitch.
She disappeared into the banquet room, and Jack waited a few moments before he followed. At thirty-three, Daisy was even more beautiful than she’d been at eighteen. He’d seen it last night. In his kitchen, and he saw it now. So much about her was different, yet the same. Her hair was still the same shiny blond, but it wasn’t big and curly and sprayed stiff. Now it was smooth and sexy as hell. She’d grown an inch maybe two, to what he figured was about five-foot-five, but she carried herself like she was still queen of the Lovett Rose Festival. Her large eyes were still the color of rich mahogany, but they’d lost the innocence and passion that he’d once found so fascinating.
He walked down the hall and entered the dark banquet room. Marvin stopped him to talk about the ’67 Ford Fairlane he’d just bought.
“It has its original 427,” he said while Jed and the Rippers sang a Tim McGraw song about a girl in a miniskirt.
Like a magnet, Jack’s gaze found Daisy. She stood at the edge of the lighted floor across the room, chatting with J. P. Clark and his wife, Loretta. Daisy’s red dress hugged the curves of her body without looking too tight. She clearly hadn’t gone too fat. Didn’t have thick ankles or a droopy butt. Which was too bad, as far as Jack was concerned.
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