Daisy coos andawws. I open my mouth, about to ask her if she remembers that time we saw a cactus wren swoop in and nab a baby quail, the way she sobbed and I patted her back and reminded her about the circle of life and how quail have a large brood because many don't survive. My mouth snaps shut, and a feeling of frustration shoots through me.
I want to share that memory with her. I want to listen to the way her voice goes higher in pitch as she remembers, a twinge of that sadness she felt back then resurrecting.
Daisy's looking at me now, smiling. "Aren't they adorable? Quail mate for life."
"Very romantic," I agree, and she senses the way I'm placating her, so she thwacks me again. I pretend to rub the spot, putting on a show like it hurt. Right now, I'll do just about anything to avoid the swirling mass of emotion in my chest.
The quail make it across the street, darting into the brittlebush on the side of the road. I let off the brake and keep driving.
"What were you going to say to me? Before the quail? You saidDaisy, Ibut then I interrupted you."
I wave a hand back-and-forth in the air between us, like I'm sayingit was nothing.Spilling my truth on a whim is a recipe for disaster. The last thing I want to do is add more grief and pain to her life. And yeah, maybe it is chicken shit for me to just let her believe a lie for the time being, but it's looking more and more like I'm going to go back on what I said before I came here. I can't have Duke's thinly veiled threat hanging over my head.
I am going to tell Daisy the truth. I have to. Every minute I spend around her, it becomes more and more difficult to keep this going. I think, over time, I had convinced myself that we were just kids, and Daisy probably didn't look back on our friendship the way I did. Was that me protecting myself from the guilt I felt over leaving her? Or was it me doing what I dobest, pushing people away because I don't believe that they could possibly love me, or that I could be worthy of their love?
We're getting closer to our destination, and Daisy has rolled her window down a few inches. I do the same, so the air can flow through the truck. Daisy's hair is picked up by the breeze, moving gently around her face. She seems content to be quiet, to sit in the silence.
A smile begins to tug up the corners of my lips, but I keep it under wraps so that Daisy does not get suspicious. I feel lighter, almost buoyant, knowing there won't be much time until I tell her the truth.
It is no longer a question of if, but when.
Chapter 22
Penn
"Pleasepretty pleasecanwe stop in that store?" Daisy parks her hands in front of her chest, prayer style, blinking up at me with big lashes and a hopeful expression.
I finish loading up the back of my truck with all the things Daisy will need to clean up the walls in her bathroom and get them ready to re-tile. Daisy's pointing at one of those fancy home décor stores, the kind where the room is artfully decorated with coffee table books nobody will read, and big glass bowls holding decorative balls.
I look down at Daisy's hopeful face. "I would've said yes without the theatrics."
She smirks, dropping her hands. "I would've gone no matter what you said." She spins on her heel and stomps across the pavement, hopping up onto the sidewalk. She pivots, taking me by surprise, and I have to wipe the look of adoration off my face. I'm not successful though. Daisy catches it, I know she does.
She pops her hip, hand resting on the curve. "Are you coming, or what?"
I trudge after her, not at all excited about this store. But for Daisy? Anything.
We step into the space and I'm immediately hit with a sugary smell, something tropical and fruity. I don't like it. I want Daisy's spicy plum. I will most definitely be turning on the child lock on the windows for the drive home. I want to be high on Daisy's scent.
Daisy steps further into the store, examining something that looks like an oversized cast iron Jacks game piece.
"Add that to the list of things in this store that are unnecessary to own." I spy the price tag hanging off it. "And overpriced."
"Can I help you?" A woman pops out from what feels like nowhere, but is actually from behind a fiddle leaf fig. She's frowning. Come to think of it, her offer to help us wasn't all that friendly either.
"No, thank you," Daisy answers, using her sweet voice. "Just browsing."
"Let me know if you change your mind," she says, not sounding any friendlier. "I know everything there is to know about this store. Because it's mine. I chose every overpriced and unnecessary item in here." Then she turns on her heel and walks away, nose tipped up slightly.
I lean down to Daisy. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think she might have heard me."
"You think?" Daisy asks sarcastically. She sends me a look, but I see the way her cheeks shake with the effort to contain her laughter. Probably for the shop owner's sake, because Daisy is a genuinely nice person.
I follow along dutifully behind Daisy, keeping my mouth shut about all the knickknacks. At one point, we come upon a candle burning in a dark blue jar, and Daisy shoots me a warning glare, as if she can read my thoughts.
"I promise not to blow it out," I say, "but can we agree that it smells awful?"
Daisy sighs. "It's not my favorite," she says diplomatically.
