But I know it’s not normal. I’ve never felt this way. And I have no idea what to do with these feelings.
CHAPTER 37
Daisy
(EIGHT YEARS AGO)
Dear Diary,
Summer again. I can’t believe my first year of college as a fashion merchandising major was so hard. Just like in high school, my brain struggled to focus, especially with anything to do with numbers. I’d love to stay in Malibu for the summer, but I’m only here for a quick trip. I have to take summer classes to make up for the ones I failed.
Ryder arrived at the mansion last night. I’d hoped by now I would have gotten over him. But how can a girl forget her first love when he just released the most haunting, romantic album of the year? I spent night after night falling asleep in my dorm bed with headphones on, his voice in my ears, memories crashing in on me.
I try to play it cool, still embarrassed about everything that happened when I was seventeen. So I smile and laugh and talk about all the boys at school I’m dating. But really,they are just forgettable placeholders for the man I truly want.
(NOW)
“You really have to stop being so shit in bed,” I say, staring at the ceiling and trying to catch my breath. Every limb feels like jelly. We’ve been at it for hours.
I love the small, private smile Ryder gifts me. He leans over, gently wraps his hand around my neck, and kisses me deeply.
“Uncle, uncle!” I cry, breaking free of his mouth.
He laughs. “Is that your safe word? Interesting choice.”
“I do need a safe word. You may kill me. Though death by orgasm would not be a bad way to go.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“And a menace.”
He glares.
“Too soon?”
“You’re not allowed to joke about that,” he groans and rolls onto his back, bringing me with him, so I settle on his chest. He takes my head and tucks me into a spot that feels like it was created just for me.
I sigh. “I can’t believe we’re having sex in your childhood bedroom. It’s so not rock-star worthy.”
“It’s not my childhood bedroom. It’s my summer bedroom.”
“That’s right. The anchor wallpaper gave that away.”
He roughs up my hair. I giggle.
For long moments, I’m silent, just listening to him breathe, listening to his steady heartbeat. And then I give in to my curiosity. Again. The poor man. He’s constantly getting a post-sex interrogation. But I just want to know as much of him as I can. “Ryder, what place feels most like home to you?”
He’s quiet for a long time, as if really pondering the question, which I like.
“I guess this house is probably the closest place to a home I’ve had. When my mom was still alive, before cancer, our house in Boston was different. But I don’t have many memories of that.”
He sits up a little, bunching a pillow beneath his head. “What about you? I know you moved all the time when you were young.”
“I’m not sure anywhere really felt like home, at least not when I was a kid. Probably the closest was when Chase came to live with my family. But that had nothing to do with the place. It was because I finally had someone who cared about me. I loved my apartment in San Francisco above my shop. I never spent much time there, though. I was always out.” I hesitate. And then continue. “I think having a home isn’t just about where you are. It’s if you have someone to share it with.”
I feel Ryder’s lips in my hair. “I have three houses. But I spend more time in hotel rooms than I do any of them. And contrary to what you might think, I’m not sharing them often. Unless you count the groupies who break in occasionally. I have to kick them out of my bed.”
Like me. When I crawled into his bed uninvited.I wince.
