“That sounds amazing,” I say, trying not to choke on my reply. The tips of my ears burn with the embarrassment of having introduced myself as Max’s girlfriend, while also having no idea that this plan was in the works.
“He’ll be thrilled,” I say with as much enthusiasm as I can. “Um, if you’ll just excuse me…” I wave to them both, muttering some lame excuse that I need to check on the parking manager. I let the crowd swallow me.
Max wanted the pop-up to get back to work and clean the dark stain his last employer left on his resume. I didn’t know he had a job already lined up.
A dream job.
One that plays to all his strengths and will grow with him. One like his past job but with infinitely better pay, I’m sure, and at a renowned museum. This job doesn’t compete with occasional pop-ups here at The Mirage and teaching at his old high school—it obliterates them.
“There you are!” Ava rushes up to me, gripping my arm to drag me somewhere to the other side of the barn. “You have to see this.”
I gulp down the lump in my throat and paste on a smile as I wave at the folks we pass. The crowd parts, and there’s Max, standing tall and so heartbreakingly handsome, and he can’t look away from me. If he’s talked with Eleanor and Antoine, I don’t find that written on his face; no, he looks as incandescently happy as this morning. He still thinks this, right here—what we have together and what he has in Harlow—is all he could ever want.
He steps to the side and then I’m staring at…me. Hanging on the smooth timber of the walls is a sketch of my face, unguarded and gentle, and so unlike how I present myself to the world. It’s me on a Monday morning when all our reservations have checked out, and Stacey’s left for the day, and I can chill on the couch with Freddie. It’s the me that Max sees, which is probably more me than I’ve ever been. Ignoring the aching emptiness in my chest, I move closer to read the title:Just Daisy.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Max, Now
Ava snaps photos of Daisy and me, and Eleanor appears before I can ask Daisy what she thinks of the drawing. Eleanor guides someone toward me, but not just anyone—Antoine Archambault of Tate Modern. The man who collaborated with luxury cruise lines to bring art to the seas, who spent over a decade managing the Frieze Art Fair, and who’s worked with greats like Yayoi Kusama and Marina Abramovic.
“Antoine,” I say, starstruck as he shakes my hand. “What a pleasure to meet you. Eleanor, hi.”
The two of them rave about everything—the vibe, the vision, every big-name artist. I reach to weave Daisy into our circle, but she’s gone already. We’ve seen each other a grand total ofthirty seconds tonight, but since she knows everyone here, that’s expected.
I never mentioned the potential job at Tate to her, so it’s probably best she’s off somewhere else. Still, I wish she could stand by me as I resist the urge to morph into a complete fanboy.
“What you’ve done is unbelievable,” Antoine says, and I need someone to pinch me. “This is not simply a museum, but an experience.”
“I’m pleased to hear you say that,” I say, or at least I think I say. “I—honestly, it’s an honor, coming from you.”
“When Eleanor told me you’d be a top candidate for the curator position with Tate, I trusted her, of course. But seeing your efforts personally only emphasizes what an outstanding addition you would make to our team.” He holds out a business card, which I stare at, until Eleanor intervenes and nudges my arm to Antoine’s. “I’d love to get you out there for a few days to show you our own vision and talk about the role.”
I gape at the card for who knows how long, processing the possibilities. “Sorry,” I mutter after a while. “This is…wow.”
“We’d originally planned to hire later in the year,” Antoine says, “but I got the finances cleared for this quarter.”
Eleanor’s face glows, and I wish I had talked to her sooner about my new plans. I don’t want to embarrass her in front of Antoine, or make him feel like his trip was a total waste.
“I was talking with Antoine about it,” Eleanor says and turns to him, “and what was it that you said?”
“That it would change the world with art. Not just in London, but everywhere.”
Eleanor nods. “And I knew. I just knew this was the job for you.”
“That’s…” It’s definitely a chance of a lifetime. Antoine gives me a brief overview, and I warm to the idea. With the pay from a respected museum, I could better support Daisy here.Between busy days abroad, I could travel back to Harlow for long weekends and holidays with her. I don’t know what the job entails yet, so I could negotiate more time off, and maybe even a decent enough salary that I could fly her out there regularly. Success at Tate would boostDesert Daze. I can do the London thing, she can keep The Mirage…
We could make this work.
I thank them and seek out Daisy. My search leads me outside, past the long line of guests waiting for entry. The illuminated lobby appears empty, and the casita’s motion-activated lights haven’t turned on. Although there isn’t an official footpath behind the building, I take a careful step over the brush and peer around the back of the barn to find a familiar silhouette.
“There you are.” I keep my voice hushed even though no one would be able to hear us with everything going on. “Needed a breather?”
“Yeah,” she says, crossing her arms and using her hands to rub her prickling goose skin.
“Here,” I say, sweeping my suit jacket over her shoulders. I use the move as an excuse to hold her close and give us a moment of calm amidst the madness tonight. “Hey, so, you won’t believe what just happened.”
“I know.” Daisy looks up at me, a sweet sadness in her eyes. “Antoine mentioned the job.”
