The blonde appears at my elbow. She’s pretty enough, with a dress that leaves nothing to the imagination.
“Hi there.” She smiles, her red lips curved into an invitation. “Can I buy you a drink?”
I look at her and try to imagine saying yes. Going home with her. Losing myself in something easy and meaningless, the way I have a hundred times before.
But the future unspools in my mind like a film reel. This woman tonight, another next month, an endless parade of strangers who don’t know me and don’t want to. My apartment, empty except for my art. Growing old alone, painting cats that hold my heart because no one else will.
And Daisy—somewhere out there, moving on. Finding someone who isn’t too scared to love her. Building a life without me in it.
The thought is a knife between my ribs, slicing deep into my heart.
“No.” The word comes out rough. “I’m not interested.”
Her smile falters. “You sure? I could—”
“I said no.”
She huffs and disappears back into the crowd. Zane stares at me like I’ve grown a second head.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” He gestures after her. “She was hot. She waswilling. What more do you want?”
Daisy. I want Daisy. I want her arms around my neck and her joy pressed against my chest and her voice sayingI love itlike I gave her something precious.
I want to stop being so goddamn afraid.
I drain my whiskey and stand, tossing a twenty on the bar. “I gotta go.”
“Go where? Home to mope?”
“I don’t know.” I grab my jacket. “I have to figure this out.”
Zane shakes his head. “You’re a fool, you know that?”
Yeah, I was a goddamn fool for shutting Daisy down. I know one thing with absolute certainty: I have to get Daisy back. I don’t know how. Don’t know if she’ll even let me try. But a life without her stretches out before me like a desert, barren and endless, and I can’t let that be my future.
The night air hits my face, cold and sharp. I pull out my phone and stare at her contact, thumb hovering.
Not like this. Not with whiskey on my breath and no plan in my head. She deserves more than a desperate midnight phone call.
She deserves someone brave enough to show up and fight for her.
I have to win her back.
CHAPTER 8
DAISY
The tattoo has healed beautifully.
I trace the outline through my shirt, a habit I can’t seem to break. The kitten sits perfectly under my collarbone, paws crossed in a heart, exactly where I wanted it. Every line is precise. Every detail is perfect.
I hate that I love it so much.
“You’re doing it again.” Sarah’s voice cuts through my thoughts, and I yank my hand away from my chest. Across her kitchen table, she watches me. “That’s the fourth time in ten minutes.”
“I’m not—” I stop. Sigh. “Okay. Maybe I am.”
It’s been a week since Knight finished my tattoo, then looked at me like I was a stranger and saidI’ll call youin a voice that even I knew meant he wouldn’t. A week of checking my phone every five minutes, hoping I was wrong, of crying in the shower, of touching this beautiful piece of art on my skin and feeling my heart break over and over again.
