A summer storm rages outside my window. That’s all it is. I will my body to calm. I look for Archie in his space on the bottom of the bed, but remember he didn’t come with me when I returned to the main house.
Though Archie isn’t much of a guard dog, I’m glad he stayed with Daisy. Every day, there are more paps at the base of the hill. And every day, the tabloids make up more outlandish stories about us, fueled by wild fandom theories. My publicist says that it’s the speculation, the will-they or won’t-they narrative that has the world caught up. Julia warned me that, as predicted, the narrative is turning, and Daisy is being painted as a gold digger and an opportunist. Fandom theories conjecture that she’s a stalker, and it’s only a matter of time before the tabloids pick up the story.
But Julia insists that if we were to pretend to date, to step out as a normal couple, doing normal, boring couple things, the speculation would ease.
I need to get Daisy to agree, for her sake. And mine. Chase has given me a little time to sort everything out because I promised him I would. And Daisy told him to back off. But I know he won’t be patient forever.
I’ll try to convince her that being a fake couple and then quietly breaking up in a few weeks is our best chance to shut down the fevered theories about us. I don’t like the plan any more than she does, but if she’s going to continue to live here, it’s the only one that makes sense. And I’d have a reason to stick close to her.
A branch whips against the window. A bolt of lightning flashes, and thunder immediately follows. The bang is so loud; it shakes the house.
“Fuck.” That was close. Too close.
Sixth sense takes up residence in my gut and turns my legs to jelly. Daisy is out in the pool house, a structure with floor-to-ceiling windows. This home, while old, has withstood hundreds, probably thousands, of storms over the years. Not so the pool house, which was a modern addition. I won’t be able to sleep until she and Archie are here with me.
That thought has me striding down the stairs and heading outside.
I force myself into the rain, the wind taking my breath. I wonder where the security guards are and assume they’ve taken shelter somewhere. No one is venturing out in this. Another bolt of lightning crosses the angry sky. It lands on the ancient oak tree that shades a good portion of the yard.
The tree, with its wide, armlike branches, was the backdrop of my childhood. I’ve spent days in it, watching for whales in the water, making up the words and melodies to songs.
A hideous splintering sounds, and a large arm of the oak crashes down, striking the pool house.
I watch, frozen with a fear I’ve never known, as part of the roof caves under the weight. Glass pops. Pieces of the roof fly.
Panic steals my breath even as I cry out. I can’t tell if the roaring in my ears is the sound of my screams or the din of the storm. I make it to the partially shattered house and swing open the door, sending up thanks that Daisy didn’t lock it even though I told her to. I swear desperate entreaties to whatever god will answer. A prayer to God or a deal with the devil. It doesn’t matter. I just need her safe.
CHAPTER 27
Daisy
(TEN YEARS AGO)
Dear Diary,
It happened the night of my seventeenth birthday.
It was the best night of my life. Until it wasn’t.
I unwrapped Ryder’s gifts with joy, imagining him shopping for me. He’d picked out the most perfect presents. I thought it had to mean that he cared about me. I thanked him with a hug and a quick, innocent kiss. But when my mouth brushed his cheek, I couldn’t be the only one feeling the electricity that ran between us.
I told myself that this was my last chance. That soon, I’d be starting a new life with a new family. So that night, when Sebastian had gone out, Chase was asleep, and Ryder was taking a night swim, I did it. With shaking hands and trembling limbs, I slipped into his bed, wearing just a nightshirt to wait for him.
(NOW)
I’m sleeping deeply when a wet tongue wakes me. It’s a dog-kiss on my nose. When I pop open one eye, Archie whines, probably wanting to go back to the main house and into Ryder’s bed. I don’t blame him.
But I listen to the rain lashing around us, and I think, hell no, I’m not going out in that. We’ll drown.
“Go to sleep,” I mumble. “You’ll see Ryder in the morning.”
I close my eyes. But by the time the dog finally settles back down, I’m already awake. Eventually, I give up and get out of bed. I pad across the dark room and sit in the comfy chair by the window that faces out to the sea, watching the storm rage. I’ve always loved storms. And I’ve listened to my share of them in the midnight hours. One downside of my overactive brain is that I often struggle with sleep.
Archie curls next to my chair. And that’s where we are when the world comes crashing in.
I scream as the ceiling above my bed buckles and an enormous branch lands in the middle of my now empty bed, covering it completely. I grab Archie, and we dive under the desk. I push my purse aside to make more room for us. All my earthquake preparedness from years of living in San Francisco kicks in. I know this isn’t an earthquake, but it’s close enough.
With rain pouring into the room and debris flying around, we huddle there shaking, watching the wreckage in disbelief and praying nothing else will crash down.
