“I’ll be free. I’m only working here until August,” I blurt. The opportunity is perfect. “I was thinking of going to Europe.” Or Bora Bora.
“Oh, wonderful. I’ll touch base with you regarding the details and pay. Thank you for considering it, dear. My daughter will be thrilled.”
“Are you ready to leave?” Ryder asks. He’s standing so close to me, our shoulders touch.
“I am.” It’s the truth. Spending time around Ryder and constantly having to remind myself to be mad at him, to guard my heart, is exhausting. Holding a grudge doesn’t come naturally to me. My emotions are twisted in a knot so thick and tight it feels like it will take years to untangle.
Margery gives Ryder a sly smile. “I understand. You’re young. All those hormones.”
I cough, and Ryder raises an eyebrow.
“Enjoy your night with your fellow. I’ll be in touch.” Mrs. Landry checks out Ryder again before strolling away. I admire the level of swagger she pulls off in a twinset.
After we say our goodbyes, we drive back to the mansion in silence.
Finally, he bites out, “So you’re going to be a pet sitter again?”
“What’s wrong with being a pet sitter?” I ask.
“Nothing. But that’s not what you should do with your life. You’re scared and hiding out, Daisy. Your business failed. I get it. That’s hard. But you can’t give up on your talent. You are endlessly creative. Don’t you remember, you were the one who had the idea for my album cover? You were the one who told me to go full tilt in the direction I wanted, the throwback folk feel of it. When every music manager and producer wanted me to play it safe, you told me that going halfway was pointless. You storyboarded the outfits I wore on my first solo tour. And you were only sixteen. It fucking kills me to see you doubt yourself.”
My face heats. I shift uncomfortably in my seat. I can’t take compliments. Perhaps it’s because I had so few growing up that I never learned to accept them gracefully.
“Top down?” I ask shakily. I need the chill.
“It’s drizzling.”
“Even better.” But then I remember that he’s driving a limited-edition Porsche. I’m sure car dudes the world over would have their heads explode at the idea of getting the interior wet.
But Ryder surprises me and puts the top down.
“This is just for a short time,” he warns. “We’re putting it up when we get to the house, in case any paps are still hanging around.”
“Deal,” I say and look out at the water, the slight rain cooling my flushed cheeks.
There’s a storm at sea.
That’s the only reason why the night feels electric, I tell myself.
CHAPTER 26
Ryder
(TEN YEARS AGO) RYDER’S JOURNAL
Daisy’s not my muse. She’s too much her own person to be defined by such a shallow word. But she inspires me just the same. She makes me feel more than I should. A slight girl with a big personality. When she looks at me, all I want is to rearrange the world to make it a better place for her.
The longer the summer goes on, though, the more I see other things in her eyes. Things that tell me she needs more than I can, or should, give.
(NOW)
When we get back to the estate, we let Archie roam the garden, and I walk Daisy to the pool house. The wind has whipped up violently. It tosses her curls. Her dress lifts and plays peekaboo with her lacy white underwear. My eyes make a quick, desperate shift to her face.
A flash of lightning illuminates the water. Thunder follows fast.
“See, that was fun,” she says. “And we didn’t even get caught by the paps. I hate to tell you I told you so, but I told you so.”
She looks up at me. And I’m so fucking glad that I went with her tonight. Not because it was fun. Not because I tested out the song I’ve been writing.
