“Stunning,” a woman whispered, whistling under her breath.She was wearing a fur coat that definitely looked as though it were real skunk and as she turned to Daisy, eyes wide, Daisy recognized her as supermodel Kiki Lawrence. “He’s incredible, isn’t he?” Kiki added before moving onto the next room and Daisy felt her chest rise with a pride she probably didn’t deserve to feel, but he really was. She already knew he was, but seeing these photos on such a big scale made it even more apparent.
Slowly she took in the other photos, walking into another room where two old ladies were giggling on a bus as music Daisy recognized played in the background. It was a jig. It was music from the ceilidh. She kept walking, standing in front of each photo in turn, her breath catching slightly as she finally came face-to-face with Sophie. Not the real version of her, but a blown-up version of her face. It was immediately obvious how in love with her Tom was. The photo was breathtaking. The sharp lines of her jaw as shadows fell across the bed, the white sheet pulled up around her as she rested her head against the wall behind her, laughing with her face in profile. She walked quickly on, passing the photos of people on a picnic blanket and an older man who had to be Tom’s dad. Daisy started to feel like she shouldn’t be there. Who did she think she was, to try and makethatwoman jealous? She didn’t want to stand side by side and be compared to her, did she? There was no comparison, and she’d always known that.
Turning the corner, Daisy stopped dead, her breath catching in her throat as the biggest photo of the entire exhibition appeared ahead of her under two spotlights. As the picture came fully into focus, it was so unexpected that her hand raced to her chest, pressing hard against it. It was her, on the largest scale she’d ever seen. All that time she’d spent questioning why Tom wouldn’t post a photo of her. Presuming that she just wasn’t a good enough subject for him to make “the grid.” Believing that it was probably just the worst of the photos he’d taken at the ceilidh... but all along he’d been saving it. For this.
Head spinning, she stepped backward before refocusing. In the background, a soft voice was talking about great achievements involving great risk.
The person in the photo wasn’t the Daisy she knew. She didn’t recognize herself through Tom’s lens. This woman looked strong and alive andhappy. Leaning forward, Daisy looked into her own eyes, sparkling like she hadn’t seen in years. He had captured the version of her that she always hoped to be again one day. He’d held his camera up and he had fully seen her. That’s why she was so drawn to him and why she enjoyed his company so much. He had always understood her and accepted her for who she was, and she could imagine no greater example than this photo.
As the gentle voice kept saying things about risk and the meaning of life, Daisy felt a rush of adrenaline fizzing through her body. She needed to tell him. She needed to tell Tom everything. What these past few months had meant to her. How much she appreciated him for understanding her. How he’d taught her there was a different way to be cared for, and actually she thought that maybe she preferred his way. He’d said that it was time for him to move on from Sophie. Was it time for Daisy to move on too? The question flew at her out of nowhere, landing with such force it was like a punch to the side of the head, her stomach churning. Was that what all the fear was about the wedding? She kept thinking it was just the standard love avoidant behavior, but was it more than that? Was there a part of her that could imagine a future without Zack?
It felt impossible to answer that question, even as her body pulled her away from the photo of herself and around the corner toward the man who always showed her the very best version of herself. Toward Tom.
Chapter Twenty
Tom
It wasn’t about the red stickers. Tom had to keep telling himself that, even as Ralph appeared beside him to get another, having just sold the photo of Stormy called“Good Feelings”to a journalist at one of the national newspapers. Tom tried not even to break his stride while in conversation with two editors who employed him as he pulled the pack of stickers out of his back pocket and handed one over. He glanced at the door briefly, having to double take as Daisy walked in, a gust of wind blowing behind her, lifting her hair up and back down. He stopped mid-sentence, watching as she removed her jacket to reveal a skintight tie-dye dress. He hadn’t seen nighttime Daisy before and he swallowed as the man opposite interrupted his thoughts, saying something about a “big shoot.” Tingles flooded through Tom’s body as he watched Daisy smile brightly, taking a champagne and saying something that made the waiter laugh.
Throughout the entire conversation Tom kept half an eye on where she was in the room. Yes, he didn’t want to miss the moment she caught sight of the photo of herself. His favourite of the whole exhibition, with the neon light from the school hall causing slight waves in the background, hitting Daisy’s eyes so they sparkled with real intensity. The blurred face of the girlbehind her, head tilted back, adding to the joy. He’d chosen to hang it in the prime spot of the gallery where the spotlights landed directly on her face, catching her cheekbones and flooding her in a warm glow. He wanted to catch the moment she saw it, for sure, but he’d also never seen her dressed up the way she was tonight, and even if he weren’t making an effort to follow her, he wasn’t sure he’d have been able to pull his eyes away anyway. It was just because she looked different, that was all. A new version of Daisy to take in.
It wasn’t hard to keep track of her. He mostly just had to look for Martha, who had charged at her the second she saw her arrive, sort of the way Tom wanted to. Wait. What? Did he?
“Sounds good,” he murmured to the editor, not entirely certain what he’d just agreed to. “Count me in.”
Daisy moved into the next room and he lost sight of her, only to see the door swing open letting in a blast of cold wind from outside as Sophie arrived with Laura. It was the first time he’d seen her since she appeared at his car window that night, and his heart pounded in his chest at the sight of her. She was dressed in tight black jeans, a white T-shirt and an olive-green jacket, her wavy hair loose and her signature liquid eyeliner ramped up for the event. Her lips were red and Tom was sure the scent of Gucci Rush was fresh in the air from her arrival. His throat turned dry and he tried to clear it without her noticing because her eyes were searching the room, looking for him, the way they used to do when he first met her.
“I think we’d be looking at Dubai as obviously the budget would be massive...” the guy opposite him was saying. Sophie’s gaze finally landed on Tom, her eyes widening when she saw him as she tilted her head slightly to one side. For some reason Tom’s instinct was to nod toward her in greeting. She broke into a grin and gave an exaggerated nod back. Her hand reached out taking a glass of champagne from the tray the waiter he’dhired was holding and Tom felt his body tense on sight of that. Then she smiled and pointed to her left and he knew what she meant. That she’d look at his work as he was obviously busy and he’d forgotten how easy it was to communicate with someone you’d been intimate with. How few words were needed. It had become that way with Daisy now, on the bus. He knew what type of mood she was in before he even sat down, based on the way she was sitting or how she was choosing to spend her time. Whether she was face down in her phone or staring out the window, or sometimes her gaze fixed at the doors as she waited for him to climb on.
The two men parted ways to look in different rooms and Tom figured he should go and greet a few more people. He’d seen some of his subjects arrive: Rose and Deirdre and the “Jesus Christ my sausages” lot. He should go to Daisy too because she’d arrived first, but Sophie would be expecting him to go over the moment he was free, after she’d made the effort to turn up. He hadn’t been sure, until that moment, whether she actually would. What was the right thing to do here?
Martha came running at him, still full of beans despite it being way past her bedtime, with his dad traipsing behind looking like a man who’d had another baby at way too late an age for the energy required.
“I saw Daisy,” she shouted.
“Me too,” Tom replied.
“No. On the wall. Looking happy,” she said, keeping hold of Tom’s hands to climb up his legs and then flip herself over backward so she landed back on her feet. “Sophie never looked that happy with you,” she said, spinning in a circle before climbing up his legs again. He frowned, shaking his head at Martha and the unexpected statement she’d just blurted out.
“Oi you,” their dad said, lifting Martha up. “It is time to get you home and leave mummy to have some much needed fun,without you,” he said, leaning forward and rubbing his nose against hers. “Excellent work, Tom. It’s stunning. Your best yet.” Tom met his dad’s eyes, smiling.
“Thanks, Dad,” he said. His dad reached across and rested his hand on his shoulder, squeezing it tight.
“She’s right you know,” he added, before turning and walking out of the gallery with Martha in a stronghold.
“Who’s right about what?” Tom muttered as a different scent filled the air, calming his senses, and he looked up to see Daisy standing beside him. For a second his pulse quickened and he swallowed, a loud laugh booming out from somewhere in the other room.
“Tom,” she said, reaching out and taking his hand, gently pressing her fingers against it. He looked down, confused for a second before he remembered their entire plan. Sophie was there. Daisy was adding intrigue, in case she might see.
“Daisy,” he said, tightening his grip on her fingers.
“These are so beautiful.” Her eyes were brimming with tears and he felt a light shiver run through his body, seeing her respond that way. Unless... was it all for Sophie? It was exactly what they spoke about her doing. He didn’t like the idea of Daisy being an actress too. It didn’t feel right for her.
“Thank you,” he said as she met his gaze, her eyes wide and shimmering. If he had his camera, he would document that expression. It felt so pure; it didn’t feel like she was acting at all.
“I need to tell you—”
“Tom.” Sophie appeared beside him, resting her hand on his arm, the hand of which was still resting in Daisy’s. Sophie looked down and then up and between them, as Tom yanked his arm back and spun slightly away. “Sorry,” Sophie added and he saw the hurt that washed across her face. “I can come back later...”
