Because everything is going so well, I’ve started properly thinking about the Heroes in White & Blue ball coming up.
And by thinking, I mean obsessing over it.
Because I want to go with Edward.
We’ve been at this for a few months now, cozy dates and sneaky nights in, just the two of us. But surely we can be seen out in public now? It’s not like I’m asking for us to go together to Sophia’s wedding. I’m not demanding a public declaration of love.
I just want one night where we don’t have to pretend we’re just passing acquaintances.
And the Heroes in White & Blue ball feels . . .right.
Edward’s obviously invited—I mean, it’s a big-deal event, and he’s the kind of big-shot surgeon who belongs at things like that. But I don’t just want to see him across the room.
I want to be the one on his arm.
The thing is, I’m nervous as hell about asking him. We’ve had such a great time together, just the two of us. What if he doesn’t want to change that? What if he likes keeping me a secret?
I push that thought aside, shoving it deep down where all my unhelpful insecurities live. Edward’s not like that. If he didn’t want something real, he’d have told me by now, right?
“Do you have any plans for next Saturday evening?” I ask, still tracing lazy circles across his chest.
“Hmm?” He hums, voice thick and drowsy.
“Next Saturday night,” I nudge, twirling a strand between my fingers. “You free?”
“Next Sat . . .” He shifts slightly in the bath, water sloshing gently against the edges. His back flexes against me. “Yeah, I’m tied up with a work thing. Why? You got something in mind?”
“At the hospital?”
“Oh no, somewhere else. Just a work thing I can’t get out of. Nothing important.”
A tiny, sharp alarm pings in my head, uninvited.
If he’s headed to the ball, that’s not “nothing important”—that’s black-tie, champagne, and most importantly, dates.
My chest tightens, the words asking to be said lodging themselves in my throat.
I should just ask—rip the plaster off.Hey, Edward, you going to that ball? Actually I can get tickets too. Isn’t that fun, something we’ll be at together?
Simple. Direct. Grown-up.
Instead, I’m marinating in my own paranoia.
Is he going and saying this is unimportant so that he doesn’t have to ask me?
I should be mature and confront my fears.
I should ask if the relationship is actually going anywhere or if he really does have an issue with being seen with me.
“Daisy?” His voice pulls me back. He turns his head slightly, brows creasing. “Is there something you want to do?”
“Nope,” I lie, quick and bright. “Just want to check out a new sushi place. We can do it anytime.”
His shoulders relax. He smiles, closing his eyes again.
I do the same.
Except . . . I don’t feel relaxed.
