She was funny. I turned my sketch pad around, and a loud laugh burst out of her. Once she caught her breath, she looked at the drawing of her with wings and a tail and then crumpled over with laughter again.
“I knew you could only draw dragons!”
Teachers called out for stragglers, so we walked to the spot where the other kids were lining up.
“What’s your name?” she asked, using her hand to block the sun.
“I’m Max.”
“Daisy,” she said, handing me her drawing and pointing to where she’d signed it. She dotted heriwith a flower. “See you ’round.”
Chapter Three
Max, Now
We haven’t seen each other for eight years, but my mind and my heart tell me no time has passed. I don’t know if hugging is the right move here, though—itfeelsright, considering our history. But her brown eyes darken to the hue of coffee, and a crease forms in her brow.
“What are you doing here?” she blurts out. I think I know her well enough to recognize the snap in her voice and the angry flush flooding her cheeks.
I’d imagined us meeting over lunch or drinks, catching up like friends—because I still consider us friends—if people who didn’t talk for six years and then played voicemail tag for two more could be called that. After everything that happened in Dublin, I could really use a familiar face.
“Nice to see you, too.” Maybe I misinterpreted the ease in our messages, but she’s talking like I didn’t grow up here. “In case you forgot, my parents have a house right over the hill.”
She doesn’t crack a smile like I’d hoped. “Is this why you called?”
“Sort of.”
I’ve called her countless times before, but she must mean the most recent one.
Her face falls. “Is your family okay?”
“Yeah.”
“I thought…I don’t know, maybe there was an emergency or something.”
“Oh, no. Judy and Bill are fine.”
“Ava?”
“She’s good.”
Daisy rests a hand on her chest, eyes closed in silent relief, and my stomach drops. I didn’t want to put her in panic mode. She must have endured a living nightmare when her mom died.
“’Scuse me.” The manbro owner of the toy car wipes his sweat-soaked forehead. “It’s really fuckin’ hot out here. Any chance you can have your reunion later?”
“Yes, absolutely,” Daisy says, her demeanor flipping to something more upbeat. “It looks like you punctured the transmission pretty good. I can call a tow, and in the meantime, I’ll bring you over to the hotel and get you checked in.”
He gestures to his Tic Tac with wheels. “I’ve got a guy in LA, and he’s the only person allowed to touch this baby.”
“Of course.” Daisy rubs the remaining dust from her hands onto her lean, sun-kissed thighs, and her face stretches into a smile. She remains the epitome of grace. “I’ll drive you to The Mirage, you can call your guy, and I’m sure by the time he’s done working on it, this will all be a minor inconvenience.”
“You should let people know not to take this road,” he says, crossing his arms.
“I usually send an email at booking with all the details, and a follow-up seven days before the reservation…but those can be easy to miss.”
“And it’s on the website,” I chime in.
Daisy’s attention flickers to me, and I shrink. Nothing screamsYeah, I check in on my best friend and former crush from high school by reading the sporadic posts she makes to her business’s blogquite like that.
