“Same,” shouted Martha, high-fiving Daisy before clambering onto her lap.
Chapter Thirteen
Daisy
Bursting through the front door, Daisy checked her watch for the one hundredth time. She’d normally have dinner in the oven by now, smells wafting through toward the front door, awaiting Zack’s arrival. Not today. He was minutes away. She’d only just beaten him home.
Her heart started pounding as she thought about what she’d just done. She’d gone out for the afternoon with another man without telling Zack and now it was too late. Mentioning it after the event would seem like she was sneaking around, no matter what the context was. She should have told him already. She’d had so many opportunities and he might have understood. He might not have told her to take a different bus or switch shifts or all the other things she was worried about, but now, she knew he would. If he found out about the shopping and the ceilidh, innocent or not, it was sneaky. She’d got herself in too deep, and she didn’t know how to fix it.
In the hallway of their flat she turned, swinging her head left and right before glancing back down at her watch. She could feel heat radiating through her body, her clothes sticking to her skin as she thought about how to explain herself. Daisy’s pulse started racing as she heard the jingling of keys and before shecould really think it through she ran into the sitting room and dived onto the sofa.
“What’s for dinner,” Zack shouted, loudly sniffing from the front door the way he did sometimes.
Daisy’s mind raced with what to say as she heard Zack’s smart shoes squeak against the wooden floorboards of their beautiful hallway before he used his shoehorn to remove them one by one, and a bang as he placed them in the shoe rack.
“Daise?” he shouted, rounding the corner to find her in the fetal position on the sofa. “What’s up?”
She saw it. The disappointment on his face, highlighted by his drooping eyes. The slightly pissed off nature of him, shown with the flare of his nostrils. The quick adjustment as he took in the state of her.
“Period pain,” she muttered. She said it because once, a few months after their patient and therapist relationship had turned into something more, he claimed that he was fairly sure he was getting sympathy cramps, which was a real sign of their connection. Daisy remembered pulling him toward her when he said it, kissing him hard. It had felt so important, then, that their connection was as strong as possible.
He squinted, moving to stand over her, shaking his head. His voice was quiet.
“There’s something more than that, I know there is.” He paused, staring at her. “This is why I said that about not going for that job. You’re already overwhelmed and you have to trust me when I tell you what will help.”
Daisy looked up at him. She couldn’t seem to pull herself up, as though she’d embodied the lie so completely it had become true.
“You’ve been doing too much lately,” he said. “You need to spend more time at home. With me. I can help you. Okay?”
Daisy nodded, her breath catching in her chest and not shifting.
“Go to bed. I’ll make you a hot water bottle and bring you some soup.”
Daisy didn’t complain. She stood up and hobbled through to the bedroom, undressing and pulling back the duvet, climbing into the crisp freshness of it. When Zack brought the hot water bottle in and pressed it against her stomach, she pretended to be asleep. She could feel the presence of him for longer than she was expecting. He must have been standing in the doorway, watching her.
“That’s better,” he whispered. “Good night, Daisy.”
Eventually she heard his footsteps as he walked away and let out a shaky breath, shoulders shuddering as she dragged the hot water bottle up to her chest, clutching it to her. She felt like a monster, lying to him like that.
Daisy took a few deep breaths to slow her breathing as flashes of memories twisted in with her dreamlike thoughts. Her mum crying and telling Daisy to go to bed. Dan’s little hand in hers. A train flying past her, not stopping. Tom in his orange trousers. Martha cuddled up on her lap, feeding her sprinkles. A sprinkler in the garden. Daisy and Dan jumping through it. Terror rushing through them as the water was shut off with no warning. Both of their naked bottoms running for the kitchen. Wet footprints on the tiles. A night sky.
“I’m ravenous this morning,” Tom said, sitting down beside Daisy and putting a Tupperware container on his lap.
She turned to him, frowning. It wasn’t possible he could have known she’d missed dinner, yet here he was like some kind of angel, cracking open the lid to reveal twopain au chocolatand holding the box open toward her.
“What, you warmed them? I could kiss you!” she said without thinking, taking the pastry. “In fact,” she added, panicking now, “that could be one of our options for the mission, ifall else fails. A kissing selfie. I mean... not with me. With anyone.”
Tom was watching her, an amused expression on his face. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, lips twitching at the corners.
“You’re wearing the shirt,” Daisy said, her face lighting up. It really suited him. With his tousled light brown hair and pale blue eyes, the shirt sort of pulled him all together, if that made any kind of sense.
“Haven’t taken it off,” he said, taking out hispain au chocolatand biting into it. “Slept in it. Got up. Here I am.” A flake of pastry was sitting on his bottom lip and Daisy instinctively reached up to brush it away. Warmth rushed to her fingertip as she made contact and she yanked her hand way, pulling at the fabric of her trousers to get rid of the sensation.
“Did you post yet?” she asked, her voice more official than normal and Tom reached a hand to his chest, falling backward.
“I’m starting to think you don’t care about this,” Tom said, wounded. “Of course I did. You told me to.”
“Sorry, I fell asleep the moment I got home,” she replied, which was a half-truth.
