The bench on the opposite side of the table creaks as she sits down. I don’t mind telling Lando to fuck off, but I’ve never had a problem with Daisy, so I keep my mouth shut. Even though I want to scream at her.
She doesn’t speak for ages. I assume she’s observing me, looking for clues to what happened last night. She’s probably thinking my standoffishness is a hangover symptom. I don’t bother telling her otherwise.
“I’m glad you two have finally made up.” Her voice is quiet—uncertain, I realise. After a few more minutes of me ignoring her, she adds, “He needs a decent friend like you around right now.”
I lift my head and stare her straight in the eye. Daisy looks more tired than I’ve ever seen her. There are bags under her eyes, her hair is scraped back into a scruffy ponytail, and she’s still wearing yesterday’s smudged makeup. There are two cups of tea on the picnic table. She cradles one in both hands with the sleeves of her hoodie pulled down to her fingernails even though it’s got to be twenty-two degrees already. The other cup sits a hairsbreadth from my left forearm in a Bath Centurions branded mug.
Even with this kind gesture, and my current loathing of Orlando, irritation bubbles in my gut. “You’re the one leaving him to go live in Scotland.”
Daisy’s fake smile fades away. “He told you?”
I nod.
“Did he mention when?”
“No, he didn’t. He just said you were moving away, and that he has a job he hates.”
Daisy slaps herself in the face. “Shit! His job. I keep fucking forgetting.” She takes her phone out of her back pocket as though she’s going to call or text Lando there and then, but she thinks better of it and places the device on the table. Her wallpaper is a photo of her and Serasi on Lando’s dad’s yacht.
My stomach flips over itself, heart suddenly ticking at quadruple its normal speed.
That night.
I don’t want to spiral thinking about that night, but I’m still annoyed withDaisy. “We haven’t made up, by the way. If you’re feeling guilty for fucking off up north and you’re relieved I’m here to look after him, you’re mistaken.”
“But—”
“I’m not doing it. Lando’s a grown man now. He’ll take care of himself or he’ll fucking learn how to.”
Daisy’s face crumples. Her brow furrows, she chews on her bottom lip, and tears flood the corners of her eyes. “I thought . . . Couldn’t you just—”
“No.”
She picks up her phone and stares down at the screen, but doesn’t unlock it or open any apps.
“What happened last night, then?” she asks, setting the device down again. Her voice is softer now, almost resigned. “Did you fight?”
I go with the full truth. “I broke into his house, stole Warwick’s wine, messed up Lando’s Netflix preferences, then we watched a movie and ate snacks.”
Daisy blinks at me like she’s surprised, but then concern sweeps her features. “What movie did you watch?”
“Some Like It Hot.”
“Shit!” Daisy folds her arms on the table and bangs her forehead against them. “Shit, shit, shit.” Then she whines and drags a hand down her face.
“So, when are you leaving, then?” I make little effort to remove the venom from my tone.
She puffs out a breath. “June.”
“That’s next month,” I say.
“Yeah.” She stares into her mug, and I gulp from mine. After a few more moments, she speaks. “Listen, you don’t get to make me feel guilty about Lan when you’re the one who ignored him for almost a year.”
“He blocked me. On every platform. He blocked my number, he blocked my Instagram, my Facebook, my TikTok. He even blocked me onCall of Duty.”
“Communication goes both wa—”
“No. If he’s gone to that much effort to cut me out of his life, I will not come crawling back begging for scraps of his attention,” I say. Shout, actually. Fuck, I’m shouting.
