CHAPTER TWELVE
It was practically impossible to get Lia alone that morning. By the time Daff and Daisy got to the spa, all the other bridesmaids were there already, and Lia refused to let her sisters draw her away from the rest of the group. So Daff and Daisy went ahead with the weird mud wraps and nail treatments, the facials and hot stone massages. There was an awkward moment in the change room, when everybody else had seen the bruises on her skin, despite Daisy’s attempts to keep them hidden. But Daff had eased the moment by making a silly joke about Mason obviously being a wild man in the sack. Everybody had laughed uncomfortably, and Daisy had hastily dragged on a robe to hide both her body and the bruises from everybody’s prying eyes.
The spa wasn’t so bad; in fact, if it weren’t for the rather urgent need to speak with her sister, Daisy would have enjoyed the experience a heck of a lot more. She wasn’t one for spas and stuff, but after the rigors of the night before, the treatments had definitely relaxed and rejuvenated her. In fact, she might well do this more often, especially since it resulted in smooth skin, pretty nails, and an all-over feeling of general well-being.
It was equally difficult to talk to Lia during brunch, and Daisy could see that Daff was becoming similarly frustrated. It didn’t help that Zinzi and Shar were being even more bitchy than usual. They kept making snide little comments and giving Daisy pointed sidelong glances and blatantly giggling behind their hands like gossiping schoolgirls. They weren’t usually so overt, but this morning it was evident even to the rest of the group. The two tended to keep their bitchiness hidden from Lia, but Daisy could see her sister was starting to notice their lousy behavior. Daisy had bigger concerns than Zinzi and Shar, and she happily ignored their rudeness.
“Lia, I’m serious, we really have to talk,” Daisy whispered to her sister for what felt like the hundredth time that morning, and Lia, her face pale and pinched, finally snapped.
“What?” she shouted, the sharp edge in her voice silencing the entire group of women. “For God’s sake what? What’s so important that you can’t just let me enjoy this morning?”
Daisy cast an awkward glance around the room of avidly staring women and sent a pleading glance at Daff, who made her way toward them.
“Not here,” Daisy whispered miserably. “It’s a private matter.”
“I’m a little busy today, in case it’s escaped your notice.”
“It’s about Clayton,” Daff gritted out, losing her patience.
“This again?” Lia wasn’t even attempting to keep her voice down, and the other women were all painfully silent. “Why won’t you two accept that this wedding is happening and just be happy for me?”
“Lia, we can’t discuss this here,” Daisy said calmly. “Please can we talk about this somewhere a little quieter?”
“No! Nothing you say will make me change my mind!”
“Not even the fact that your bastard fiancé has been sexually harassing Daisy?” Daff finally yelled, and Lia’s eyes widened as they sought Daisy’s. Daisy could do nothing but return her stare with a wide, fixed gaze, horrified that Daff had simply blurted it out like that in front of the entire group.
A muffled laugh suddenly broke the silence, and all heads swung toward Shar, who had her hand up over her mouth in an attempt to stifle her horrible laughter. Zinzi sniggered as well, while the rest of the women stood around in awkward uncertainty.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Shar giggled. “It’s just that . . . come on, are you guys really going to go with that? Clayton’s been hitting on Daisy or whatever? Clayton? And Daisy?”
It was Daisy’s worst fear come to life. The laughter, the disbelief . . . the scorn. Some of the other women were now eyeing her speculatively as well, and Daff stepped forward to intervene, but Daisy had finally had enough. She held up her hand to prevent Daff from interceding and took a step toward Shar.
“You know, Shar,” she said conversationally, “you really are a malignant cow. I don’t know what I’ve ever done to deserve your scorn. Quite frankly, I no longer care. I spent way too much time trying to figure it out, and I’m done. Sometimes people are just born mean. You and Zinzi are rotten to the core, and since your opinion means nothing to me, I no longer care about why I became the target for your schoolyard bullying. My sisters and I are trying to have a private conversation, so if you don’t mind, we’d very much appreciate it if the rest of you could—”
“Why should Lia believe your pathetic little stories, Daisy?” Shar interrupted with a haughty little smile. “You’re clearly jealous of her and what she has with Clayton. I mean, you couldn’t even get a date to your own sister’s wedding, could you? You had to blackmail poor Mason into being your date, didn’t you? If you could lie about something like that, I’m willing to bet you’re pathetic enough to fabricate horrible stories about Clayton too.”
Daisy felt all the blood drain from her face at those words and swayed slightly beneath their impact.
“And if you’re wondering how I know that, it came straight from the horse’s mouth,” Shar supplied smugly, and Daisy felt lightheaded as the words sank in. Why would he tell anybody? What possible reason could he have to tell? “We had quite a laugh over it. Poor, desperate Daisy, showing up here with that stud on your arm, and all the while the man is here against his will. It would be laughable if it weren’t so—”
“Enough!” The sharp command came from Lia, who looked pale and pissed off yet remarkably poised at the same time. “Shar, consider our friendship over. Same goes for you, Zinzi. You have no right to speak to my sister like that. Daisy’s right, you’re both malignant bitches, and I think it’s best if we never see each other again. Now, if the rest of you don’t mind, my sisters and I need some privacy. Please excuse us.”
She and Daff moved to flank Daisy, and she was vaguely aware of each woman grabbing one of her elbows and leading her out of the private dining room. Daisy wasn’t sure where they were taking her, but she was just so relieved to get out from beneath all those mocking gazes and away from Shar’s vicious diatribe.
“Daisy?” It was Lia’s voice, sounding very far away.
“Shit, she looks like she’s going to faint.” Daff sounded anxious.
“I’m not going to faint,” Daisy denied, shaking her head.
“Drink this.” Lia shoved a glass into her hand, and Daisy took an obedient sip before dragging in a pained breath and exhaling it on a cough.
“What the hell is that?” she asked, suddenly back in the sucky present. It looked like they were in Daff’s room.
“Brandy. They always give it to people in the movies,” Lia explained when her sisters both leveled disbelieving looks at her. “You looked like you needed it for the shock.”
“Why would he tell her?” Daisy asked, her voice breaking.
“So that thing about Mason was true?” Lia asked, and Daisy nodded, too afraid to speak in case her voice failed her entirely. Her chest hurt. Why did it hurt? Was she having an anxiety attack? Something was wrong with her heart; it wasn’t working properly, it felt wrong. It felt . . . broken.
She lifted a hand to stifle a sob, but it escaped nonetheless.
“But why?” Lia asked in confusion, and Daisy shook her head.
“Long story,” Daff spoke for her.
“And the stuff about Clayton?” Lia asked hesitantly. Before shaking her head in irritation. “I don’t know why I asked that. You wouldn’t lie about something like that.”
“You believe me?” Daisy asked in a wobbly voice, and Lia frowned.
“Of course I believe you,” she said, sounding shocked that Daisy would even think she wouldn’t.
“I’m sorry,” Daisy whispered, and Lia hugged her.
“Deedee, you have nothing to be sorry about. I’m the one who brought him into our lives.”
“I should have trusted you and spoken about it sooner.”
“Maybe. It doesn’t change the fact that he did what he did.”
“You seem remarkably okay about this,” Daff pointed out, and Lia shrugged.
“I am. I’ve been having . . . doubts anyway. I’ve been fooling myself, but the truth is, he’s just not a very nice man. He’s hypercritical about everything from what I eat to what I wear to whom I speak with. He even . . .” She paused, looking ashamed, before sighing and continuing. “He chose my wedding dress. All that dress-hunting business was just a ruse. He had a dress preselected and I pretended to ‘find’ it.”
“You took us to four separate shops,” Daff reminded indignantly, and Lia smiled tiredly.
“I just wanted to try to pretend I had an actual choice.”
“Are you heartbroken?” Daisy asked softly, wanting to know how that felt. Wanting a basis for comparison. Lia thought about her question for a moment before shaking her head.
“No. I’m relieved. I thought I loved him. I wanted so desperately to love him. He seemed perfect. But, oh my God, the ego. Everything was always about him. And he was incredibly selfish in bed.”
“Yuck. TMI. Seriously between this and Daisy last night, I—” Daff broke off abruptly when Daisy burst into tears. “Shit. Deedee, I’m sorry.”
“It’s just . . . I think—I think I’m heartbroken. But how can I be heartbroken? You have to be in love to have your heart broken. Isn’t that how it usually works?” God, she was a mess. And this wasn’t even about her. Her sister’s wedding was in a shambles, and she could think only of herself.
“Everybody knows now. I feel so stupid and humiliated. I don’t understand why he would tell her.”
“Are you sure it was him?” Lia asked, and Daisy shook her head and buried her face in her hands.
“I don’t know. He’s always seemed contemptuous of her; I don’t see him deliberately telling her, but how else would she know?”
“What are you going to do?” Daff asked and Daisy lifted her face to stare at her concerned sisters resolutely.
“Deal with it.”
“And what about you?” Daff directed the question at Lia, who shrugged.
“Mom and Dad are going to be so disappointed,” she said, regret adding weight to her words.
“They’d be more disappointed if you wound up marrying a man you don’t love,” Daff said.
“But they went to so much effort. Look at this place; it cost the earth. And all the guests; they’ve all lost money. How can I possibly repay everybody?”
“The people who love you want you to be happy, and the guests got a nice relaxing weekend at a beautiful venue for their trouble. Time to be selfish and think of yourself, Lia.”
“Then I suppose I have a wedding to cancel.”
“Hey, angel.” Mason smiled when Daisy walked into their suite ten minutes later. He looked totally relaxed, kicking back on the sofa with a well-worn paperback facedown on his chest. “How’d it go?”
“The wedding’s off,” Daisy told him, without any inflection in her voice. She kept her gaze carefully averted as she opened the closet and dragged out her suitcase.
“No shit. So you told her? How’d she take it?” He sounded concerned, and Daisy flipped open her suitcase and scanned the interior intently, happy for the task because it allowed her to keep avoiding his gaze.
“The wedding is off. How do you think she took it?” She walked over to the bureau where she had stored a couple of T-shirts and her underwear and withdrew the carefully folded clothes and carried them over to her case.
“She’s okay with you?”
“Uh-huh.” She began to carefully place her clothing back into the case and—from the corner of her eye—she could see his body language change subtly.
“What are you doing?” he asked. His voice had a lethally soft edge to it.
“Packing.”
“Why?”
“No more wedding, so there’s no need for this farce to continue.” She was happy that her voice and hands remained steady, but she still couldn’t meet his eyes, not even when he got up from the sofa and came to stand right beside her. He was much too close. Close enough for her to smell his cologne, to feel his body heat, to hear his soft breathing.
“So we’re going home?” he asked quietly.
“I think it’s best if you went home. Today. I’ll catch a ride back with Daff.”
“What’s going on? Why are you being like this? Has someone upset you?”
“I’m releasing you from our agreement,” she said, with barely a wobble in her voice, and Mason swore before taking hold of her elbow and turning her to face him. The movement dislodged the tears that had been brimming in her eyes, and he swore again as he watched the twin silvery tracks scorch their way down her cheeks.
“Who made you cry?” His quiet voice promised retribution to anyone who had dared hurt her, and the hypocrisy of it just made the silent tears flow faster. “Daisy, tell me what happened.”
“Everybody knows,” she said on a broken whisper. “Everybody knows. I’m a laughingstock, a pathetic object of scorn and pity. How ridiculous is that? An entire wedding is being called off, and the only thing people will be talking about is the fact that Daisy McGregor blackmailed a man into being her date.”
“What?” He sounded horrified. God, could he really be this good of an actor? Daisy didn’t know what to think, what to believe; all she knew was that it would be best if he left. Everything between them had happened way too fast; she’d been too caught up in the fantasy of what could be to accept the reality of what was. And the reality was that they would never work. She had allowed herself a brief moment of “what-if,” but that was over now, destroyed by the truth that she’d seen in Shar’s eyes. She and Mason didn’t work. And they never would.
“I need you to leave.”
“Daisy, me leaving would be the wrong move,” he said, his hands tightening on her elbow. “It would just confirm whatever the hell people are thinking. I should stay, make them doubt whatever it is they heard. We should keep up a united front.”
“Why are you doing this?” Her voice was as fractured as her heart, and she clamped her trembling lips together in an effort to regain a modicum of dignity and control before she spoke again.
“I’m doing this because I care about you,” he confessed hoarsely. “Because I don’t want you to go through this alone. Because I want to show them that nothing about what we have is fake.”
“It’s all fake!” At the end of her tether, her voice rose sharply until she was practically screaming. The volume shocked both of them, and she inhaled deeply before speaking again. “I want you out of my life, Mason. This little sideshow is over.”
“Daisy.”
“Permanently out of my life, do you understand?”
“No!” he yelled back. “What the fuck is going on?”
“Did you tell Shar about us?” She didn’t know why she even bothered asking. She could no longer deny the truth. Mason was a good guy. She didn’t know how Shar had learned the truth, but it wasn’t Mason who had told her. All Daisy knew was that the question would drive a wedge between them, and she desperately needed to put some distance between them. She needed him to leave because it was time for Daisy McGregor to get back to the real world. The words dropped between them like lead, and Mason took a horrified step back from her.
“What?” His voice was soft and lethal, and she couldn’t read his expression at all, but something in his eyes sent a shudder of sorrow down her spine. She swallowed and calmly repeated the vile question.
“Did you tell Shar about us? She knows every detail, and I certainly didn’t tell her.”
“Shar?” The woman’s name sounded harsh on his lips, and Daisy winced when she heard it. “You think I told fucking Shar about our arrangement?”
He dropped her elbow and stepped away from her, and Daisy felt the loss of his body heat keenly, even while she despised herself for her neediness.
“How the fuck can you think that? How can you think that I would hurt you . . . you of all people, like that?” His voice hitched, and he swore softly before turning away from her and striding to the closet to grab his duffel and his garment bags. Daisy stood frozen and watched as he efficiently repacked the duffel bag within mere minutes, every movement of his beautiful body looking stiff and furious. When he was done he strode to the door, turning to face her only after he had opened the door.
“You need to grow up, Daisy. You’re still way too hung up on shit that happened when you were in high school. You’ve allowed petty teenage crap to cloud your vision of yourself and affect the way you live your life. Call me once you’ve grown up.” He paused before shaking his head irritably. “On second thought, don’t call me. I’ll have moved on from this situation by then.”
Daisy didn’t have a response to that. She felt immeasurable loss at the thought of never seeing him again.
“And you may want to find out who the hell really told Shar about our agreement,” he advised, his tone harsh. “Because it sure as hell wasn’t me.” He slammed the door behind him, and Daisy released the shuddering breath she’d been holding and sank down onto the bed as her legs gave way. She curled up into a ball, feeling wounded and broken as she tried to keep the tears at bay. She hugged a pillow to her chest; it smelled like him, and her throat ached as she continued to fight her tears.
The door opened, and for a wild moment she thought it was Mason returning, but it was Daff, the spare key card in her hand.
“Mason stopped by my room on his way out,” she said softly. “He gave me this and told me you needed me.”
Oh God. There was no holding back the tears after that, and—thanks to Mason—Daff was there to hold her and comfort her.
“Mason? What are you doing back so soon? Isn’t the wedding tomorrow?” Spencer stepped aside, and Mason stormed past him furiously, pausing only to greet his ecstatic dog.
“Lia called it off,” Mason told his brother, and after another affectionate hug for Cooper, he made his way to the kitchen and straight to the fridge. “Is this all the beer you have?”
“Yeah.”
“We’re going to need more.”
“There are a dozen beers in there,” Spencer protested, and Mason glared at him, before taking both six-packs out of the fridge and carrying them into living room. After placing the beers on the coffee table, he sat on the nearest lounge chair and then shook his head.
“That’s not enough beer.”
“What the fuck, man? What happened? And what do you mean Lia called it off? Like the whole wedding?” Spencer sat down too and reached for a beer.
“No, only the ceremony and the reception and the bit where they throw the bouquet,” Mason retorted sarcastically. He was in a seriously black mood, and the long, lonely drive back hadn’t exactly helped. “Of course the whole wedding.”
“But why?”
“Because her fiancé is a piece of shit.”
“So you and Daisy came back early? Isn’t there a lot of crap to take care of? I would have expected Daisy to want to stay and help with that.”
Mason grabbed one of the beers and popped the tab. He took a long, thirsty drink before feeling ready to answer his brother’s question.
Daisy.
He was furious with her, but beneath the fury was an underlying feeling of hurt and betrayal. Yes, she had hurt his feelings, and he felt like a pussy for even admitting it to himself. He was pissed off that she’d had so little faith in him, and right now he couldn’t even think about her without wanting to break something. He drained the rest of the beer and then crumpled the can in his fist, before thumping it onto the coffee table and reaching for another.
“Whoa, easy on the beers, Mase,” Spencer cautioned, still working on his first can. Mason ignored him and had half of his second beer consumed before talking again.
“Daisy didn’t come back with me. She told me to leave.”
“Oh.” There was a wealth of confusion in the sound. “And you’re angry about that?”
“She thinks I told Shar about our . . . arrangement.”
“Did you?”
“Fuck off, Spence.”
“So you didn’t?”
“Of course I didn’t. But apparently Shar knows, and the only other people who knew about the whole stupid scheme were you and Daff.”
“I don’t talk to Shar,” Spencer hastened to assure him. “Or rather, Shar doesn’t talk to me. Ever. I’m not classy enough for her.”
“And I can’t imagine Daffodil McGregor telling anybody, so I have no clue how Shar managed to find out about it. Did you speak to anybody else?”
“No. Of course not.”
Mason moved on to his third can of beer, his mind in turmoil. He wasn’t sure how he felt any more; all he knew was that he would miss that crazy armful of neurotic femininity more than he cared to admit. She was funny, intelligent, insanely sexy, and sweeter than any other woman he had ever met, and he felt like he’d lost something unique and special. Hard as it was to admit, no amount of beer would fill the hole she had left in his heart.
“Daddy, have you ever seen that car before?” Daisy asked one Saturday afternoon on the way back from their clinic day.
“What car, sweetheart?” her father asked absently, keeping his eyes on the road.
“Behind us.” She had her eyes on the rearview mirror, checking out the dark sedan with its tinted windows directly behind them. “I’ve seen the same car on our last three visits to Inkululeko.”
“That’s nothing to worry about,” her father said with a smile. “They’ve been escorting us to and from the clinic every week for the last month.”
“What?” The word was a whisper, and she doubted that her father even heard it.
“Mason insisted. It was part of his donation to the clinic.” Mason had made an outrageously generous donation to the clinic, enough for them to buy new equipment and a bigger mobile clinic. He had also sponsored a full scholarship for Thandiwe’s current and future studies. The girl was ecstatic and enthusiastic about the future. “In addition to the money, he insisted on providing security for as long as we needed it.”
“We don’t need security,” Daisy insisted, feeling a little lightheaded that he had actually gone ahead and done this. It was more than a month since the wedding and at least six weeks after he had first brought up the need for security.
“I feel better knowing that they’re there. They’re very discreet. You haven’t even noticed them until recently, and they’ve been escorting us on our last eight visits.”
“Why would he do this?” Her father’s eyes flicked from the road to her face and back again.
“He’s a good man. And he cares about what happens to you.”
“You once thought Clayton was a good man too,” she pointed out. It was a low blow and she knew it, but her father took the hit with nothing more than a smile.
“I never thought Clayton was a good man, but I had hope that Dahlia saw something in him that I didn’t. I trusted her good judgment, and in the end my trust was warranted.”
“I suppose it was nice of Mason to arrange this,” she said quietly.
“More than nice, I think.”
“Maybe.”
“Daisy, I don’t know what happened between the two of you . . .”
“Yes, you do, Daddy. Everybody knows it was all fake. We were pretending to be a couple.”
“You like him, he likes you. No pretense there,” he said with a shrug.
“No, he did what he had to because I forced him.” Her father laughed at that, the sound so genuinely amused that Daisy was a little offended by it.
“Sweetheart, you can be difficult and stubborn and a little crazy at times, but nobody on God’s green earth, especially not a lightweight like you, can force a man like Mason Carlisle to do anything he doesn’t want to do.”
“I blackmailed him.”
“He came to that wedding because he wanted to,” her father dismissed.
Daisy didn’t respond to that, but her eyes drifted to the side-view mirror, and she watched the other car for a long moment. Mason had been out of her life for a month; she hadn’t seen him or heard from him at all in that time. And she knew it was her fault; she had leaped at the excuse to drive him away. At times she was sure she’d made the right decision, but then at other times—like right now—doubt crept in and she wondered if perhaps she hadn’t made the biggest mistake of her life. She often wondered who had really told Shar about their scheme. Not that it really mattered anymore; the damage had been done. But she was still curious.
Straight from the horse’s mouth.
How could Shar possibly have found out about their deception unless she had heard it from one of the parties involved? Could it have been Spencer? He was the only other person who knew about it.
“I’ll tell you what I told my brother,” Spencer said, when Daisy went by his house later that evening to pose the question to him. “It wasn’t me.”
“Mason asked you about it?”
“He’s been trying to figure it out too.” He handed her a beer, not offering her a choice, and she took it with a nod. Beer wasn’t her drink at all, but he was trying to be civil.
“Daisy”—Spencer’s grave face mirrored his tone of voice—“I deserve your doubt and your ill will. I haven’t been . . . kind to you, and I’m very sorry for that. I’ve treated you badly in the past, but I want you to know that the night I asked Mason to distract you while I chatted with Daff was only because I wanted a chance to speak to her and she’s always been very protective over you. So I—stupidly—thought if she saw that you were happily preoccupied, she’d be more open to relaxing and talking with me. Mason was reluctant to go through with it, not because he had anything against you but because he’s a good guy and he thought it might hurt you if you found out his interest wasn’t genuine.” He shook his head. “It was a stupid, ill-advised, and flawed plan. And it failed miserably . . . for me. Mason, on the other hand, my brother liked you from the beginning. And this entire fucked-up situation has messed him up more than he’s willing to let on. He’s miserable.”
“He is?” Daisy hated the thought of Mason being miserable. Especially if she was the cause of it.
“Do you know that he punched Edmonton?”
“What?”
“He didn’t tell me about it; I heard it from one of the guy’s groomsmen. Apparently Clayton was spouting off some shit about you, and Mason punched him and warned the groomsmen if they ever mentioned your name again he’d lay a world of pain on them.”
“Oh.” Daisy’s hands went to her mouth, and her eyes flooded with tears. Nobody had ever done anything so sweet and romantic for her before. Mason had always been kind, gentle, and protective of her. And Daisy had simply thrown it all away because of her own stupid insecurities. Mason was right; she was so hung up in the past, in what people used to think of her, that she’d allowed it to color her vision of the world and herself. And then he’d come along and had seen something completely different, and because his image of her didn’t gel with hers, she had dismissed it as fantasy. As part of an elaborate act.
What a fool she was.
The following afternoon Daisy nervously rubbed a damp palm over the denim of her jeans before lifting her hand to ring Mason’s doorbell. There was a faint answering bark inside. The barking grew closer and closer until she could hear Cooper just inside the door. She cast an anxious glance around. Mason’s Jeep was parked outside, but she couldn’t see his bike or BMW and she wondered if he was out. The possibility filled her with both relief and disappointment. She needed to apologize and to know if they could still have something real between them. She hoped so, because she had stupidly—and against every ounce of her better judgment—gone and fallen in love with the man.
Cooper was still kicking up a fuss, and when she heard Mason command him to be quiet, her heart started up a frantic rhythm in her chest, and for a fraught moment, she insanely considered dumping her peace offering and making a run for it. But then it was too late, the door swung inward, and there he was, staring down at her from his great height. And he was really . . . dirty?
Her eyes fluttered over him. He wore a pair of dirt-streaked jeans, boots, and a ripped T-shirt. His clothes and face were streaked with grime and sweat.
Daisy blinked and wondered if she were dreaming because he looked like he had just stepped out of one of her favorite erotic fantasies. She licked her lips, searching for something to say, more than a little wrong-footed by his appearance.
“Uh . . . you’re really dirty,” she pointed out, wincing at the inadvertent sexual ambiguity of the statement. Instead of jumping all over the unintentionally provocative words, as he would have in the past, he shrugged, causing the muscles in his shoulders and chest to flex impressively.
“I’m busy,” he said, his voice flat and unencouraging.
“So this is a bad time to talk?”
“What do you want, Daisy?”
“To talk,” she said again.
“I figure we’ve said everything that needed saying,” he muttered.
“May I come in?” she asked doggedly. He sighed, the sound impatient and explosive, and stood to the side. He held on to the door, while his body shifted to allow her to pass him, forcing her to duck beneath his arm in order to gain entry. He smelled wonderfully earthy, of soap and good, healthy male sweat. None of that expensive, sexy cologne she liked as much. He slammed the door behind her once she was inside and brushed past her as she bent to pat Cooper, who was greeting her with a happily wagging tail and a grinning face. She followed Mason into the kitchen, where he twisted the cap off a beer and took a long drink. He lowered his arm to stare at her and, unlike his brother the day before, refrained from offering her one.
“I brought you something,” she said shyly, holding up the wrapped package in her hands. He didn’t respond, which forced her to elaborate. “It’s a bacon, cheddar, and zucchini bread. Freshly baked.”
“What do you want, Daisy?” he asked again, his voice so cold it sent a shudder down her spine.
“I wanted to apologize. I know you didn’t tell Shar about us.”
“Who did?”
“I’m not sure.”
“I’m shocked you changed your mind without definitive proof,” he sneered, and she carefully placed the bread onto the center island and braced her hands on the countertop.
“I knew you didn’t almost from the beginning, but I was freaking out a little about us, you know? It was all a little overwhelming, and maybe I jumped on the whole Shar thing as an excuse to—to drive you away.” She was babbling, she knew she was, but his face was just so cold and impassive. It was making her nervous. “Anyway, I should have spoken to you about my fears. I shouldn’t have dealt with it the way I did.”
“No, you shouldn’t have.”
“Mason, I’m truly sorry.”
“Fine.” He took another sip of his beer, before looking at her again. “You’re forgiven.”
“I was wondering if maybe we could try again?”
“Try what again?” God, this was really hard. This Mason was a far cry from the warm and easygoing man she knew. He was cold, callous, and calculating. But she knew the other Mason was in there, and it was up to her to find him and appeal to him.
“Us.”
“We’re not an us. There’s never been an us.”
“I would like there to be.”
“Yeah?” He slammed his bottle down on the counter between them and leaned toward her, his entire body vibrating with tension and unmistakable fury. “It’s not going to happen. Go play your high school games with some other idiot, Daisy. I’ve done my time. You don’t know what you really want. I was your first fuck, and you think that means something, don’t you? Little Daisy with her teen dream fantasies about the perfect boy. The one who will love her just the way she is, right? That’s what you want from me? I’m through role-playing. I won’t be your fantasy man—the guy too impossibly perfect to exist in real life.”
“I don’t want that,” she denied. “I made a mistake, and I’m sorry. But I wanted us—”
“There’s that word again,” he sneered. “Get it through your head, Daisy. There’s no fucking us!”
“I love you.” It was a desperate cry, and she knew saying it was a mistake.
“You don’t love me. You love some fictional being. You’ve only ever been with one guy, Daisy. How can that be love?”
“And when did you suddenly become such an expert on love, Mason? You who once asked how we’d know if we were ever really in love? You’re always looking for the next best one, right? Because the one you’re with is never good enough. I suppose holding you to a higher standard was a ridiculous pipe dream, wasn’t it? Yes, I’ve only ever had one lover, and maybe it makes me naïve and stupid and ridiculous to think that I’m in love with him.”
“Maybe?” The haughty sarcasm in his voice proved to be her undoing, and she blinked, forcing back her tears, before straightening her spine and meeting his mocking gaze head-on.
“Anyway,” she said softly. “I wanted to apologize. For everything. And to thank you for what you’ve done for the clinic. I won’t bother you again.”
She picked up the bread, and he made a sound in the back of his throat. When she threw him a questioning glance, he shook his head, his face still that awful blank mask.
“Leave it.” The barked command was unexpected, and Daisy carefully put the bread down again.
“I’ll see myself out.” She didn’t wait for his response before she turned and left.
Mason remained still as he listened to the quiet sounds of her departure, a soft whispered good-bye for Cooper in the hallway, the snick of the front door handle being turned, a slight soughing sound as the rain-swollen wood of the door resisted her initial attempt to tug it open. The wind rushing into the hall, carrying the faint scents of wood smoke, wet leaves, and soil all the way into the kitchen, and then finally the door closing. Her car door opening and closing, and the engine of her small car firing to life. He didn’t move, even when Cooper padded into the kitchen to sniff out some snacks, didn’t move until the sound of her car was finally swallowed up by distance and the rising wind . . . and then when he did move, it was slight. Just a release of tension, his muscles relaxed—shoulders slumping—and his head bowed as he stared down at her offering on his kitchen counter.
“Jesus.” A prayer? A plea for help? An exclamation of regret? Even Mason didn’t know. All he knew was that he had hated seeing her, hated speaking with her, hated hearing her say those fucking words. She didn’t have the faintest idea what love was. What being in love felt like. How could she? She hadn’t really lived her life. Hadn’t experienced enough of the wrong people to know when the right one came along. Because if all these years of coming close to falling in love had taught Mason anything, it was how to recognize the real thing when it came along.
“You two are getting on my nerves,” Daff complained Friday evening two weeks later. They had enjoyed dinner at the farm, and the sisters were all three crunching their way through a gigantic bowl of popcorn and watching reruns of Friends. “So you lost your boyfriends, whatever, it’s not the end of the world.”
“He was my fiancé!”
“He wasn’t my boyfriend!” Daisy and Lia exclaimed at the same time, and Daff rolled her eyes.
“Like I said, whatever. You’re getting off your asses tonight, and we’re going out.”
“There’s nowhere to go in Riversend,” Lia grumbled, and Daff pinned her with a no-nonsense glare.
“Get changed.”
“I have nothing to wear, and your clothes won’t fit me, so don’t even suggest it,” Daisy warned. “Besides, if we go out and run into Shar tonight, I’m going to hit her. So it’s probably best if we just stayed home.”
A week ago, Daff—sick of Daisy’s moping around—had confronted Zinzi regarding where Shar had obtained her information about Daisy and Mason. The woman had confessed to a simple and uncomplicated case of eavesdropping. The news had sent Daisy into an even worse spiral of despair when she comprehended how completely she had authored her own destruction. How positively and irritatingly Shakespearean.
“We won’t run into Shar; her husband dragged her away on some gross four-week-long seniors’ cruise. Rumor has it the old guy bought a boatload of Viagra before he left. She’s going to hate it.” All three of them took a moment to enjoy the thought of Shar trapped on a prolonged cruise with senior citizens and her horny ancient husband, before Daff snapped back into bossy mode. “Go home, get changed, we’ll pick you up on the way.”
“I really don’t feel like—”
“You’re going. Both of you,” Daff interrupted Daisy.
“Fine, but only because I’m really bored,” Daisy relented. She wasn’t bored. She was just apathetic and sad. Really, really sad all of the time. It frightened her, this deep and abiding melancholy; she couldn’t remember ever feeling this way before, and she wanted it to end. She wanted to wake up one morning and feel lightness in her soul, and contentment and happiness in her heart. She wanted to turn around and greet Mason with a smile and a kiss and be grateful for what she had. But all of that seemed so far out of reach that just thinking about it made her plummet even further into complete and utter misery.
She hungered for just the sound of his name, and she heard it often. Her father spoke of the work he was doing around town, donating money and resources, and his own manual labor, toward renovating some of the more faded landmarks. Thandiwe said he’d come into the school to speak with the students. Daff mentioned him now and again, she’d seen him at MJ’s, Ralphie’s, and out in Knysna at a popular local night spot, a different woman on his arm each time. Even her mother and Lia spoke of him, of how he had called after news of the broken engagement had spread through town, to ask if they were okay and if they needed anything.
The only person who never saw him, or heard from him, was Daisy. And she knew that it was deliberate. He was avoiding her; maybe she had embarrassed him with her declaration of love. Who could blame him, really? She was a total stranger to him, and a few weeks of fake dating couldn’t change that fact. So why couldn’t she accept that reality and move on?
Maybe because, despite all those warnings and reminders she had given herself to the contrary, it hadn’t felt fake at all.
Ralphie’s. Great. Of course it would be Ralphie’s; there was literally nowhere else to go. Daisy sighed and reluctantly climbed out of the car, pulling her too-short and too-tight skirt down surreptitiously. She was trying new things, and this skirt was part of the wardrobe that she had bought a week after Mason had so roundly rejected her. Tight, black, and a smidgeon too far above knee, it clung to her hips and butt a little too lovingly. She’d combined it with a sparkly black scoop-necked top, black stockings, and shoes that were an inch too high. She left her hair wild and loose, and for the first time appreciated the carefree look it gave her. Daff had done her makeup, telling her the outfit called for smoky eyes and “fuck me red” on the lips. Daisy wasn’t so sure about the red, but it did make her lips look plumper, which wasn’t a bad thing, she supposed.
They were slammed with that familiar wall of heat and sound when they entered the door . . . and greeted by a cacophony of enthusiastic wolf whistles. Daisy’s first instinct was to take a step back and allow her sisters the spotlight, but after just a second’s hesitation, she stepped forward in unison with them and greeted the crowd with a vivacious grin. The male eyes scanned all three of them with equal amounts of appreciation, and it felt quite . . . liberating.
The whistles and catcalls drew his attention, and Mason lifted his gaze from their deep contemplation of his beer to the commotion at the front door and froze.
“Christ,” he swore shakily, and Spencer—who sat with his back to the door—watched him in concern.
“What?”
“What the fuck is she wearing? She’s going to cause a riot in that getup!” Spencer glanced over his shoulder, and his eyebrows climbed to his hairline, before he added his appreciative whistle to that of the adoring male crowd.
“Hellooo, Dr. Daisy,” Spencer growled, and Mason’s brow lowered.
“Hey! Stop staring at her like that.”
“I can’t help it; that skirt is killing me. And that top does great things for her ti—”
“Don’t say it!” Mason interrupted viciously, and Spencer turned his gaze back to his brother.
“What?” he asked, all innocence. “She’s hot.”
“I know that,” Mason said. “I don’t know how none of you saw that before. Why does she have to shimmy her way into a skirt that ends just below her ass cheeks for you to see it now?”
That skirt was way too high, and it took every ounce of willpower Mason possessed not to march over there and throw his jacket over her to cover her up. She hadn’t spotted him yet; she was still smiling—God, what was that shade of red on her lips? It should be illegal!
“I have to go,” he said, getting up and reaching for his wallet. He had successfully avoided her for weeks, trying to get back into the dating game but finding every woman who Spencer set him up with unappealing and boring. He needed just a little more time before he was able to face her without saying or doing anything stupid. Just a little more time to get his shit together.
“You can’t keep avoiding her forever, you know?” Spencer predicted, and Mason shrugged.
“No clue what you’re talking about.”
“I think I’ll ask Daisy to dance,” Spencer said, and Mason snorted.
“Good luck with that; she doesn’t dance.”
“Well, that definitely looks like dancing to me,” Spencer said, and Mason’s head flew up. Just in time to see Daisy shimmying against some douche bag in a plaid shirt and jeans. The guy looked like Christmas and all his birthdays had come at once, and then, as Mason watched, she did it . . . She actually pulled a few chicken dance moves and then laughed at herself for doing it. Her laughter was so contagious that it invited her partner and everybody else in the immediate vicinity to join in, and when she leaned into the guy to whisper something in his ear, Mason felt his blood boil. When the guy tipped his head back to laugh and started doing the chicken dance too, Mason knew that she had “confided” her so-called dance weakness to him.
He felt outrageously betrayed by that, like she had taken something that was theirs alone and shared it with the masses. And it was crazy, irrational thinking like that, which meant he had to get out of here immediately.
“Mason!” Shit. Lia had spotted him. Her screech could be heard over the noise and music, and Daisy’s head snapped around and her eyes found him immediately. Not hard to do when he was standing up and obviously watching her. He couldn’t tear his gaze from hers, and she never broke eye contact as she leaned toward her partner to say something to him, before battling her way through the crowd to make her way toward Mason.
He couldn’t move, not even when Lia got to him first and gave him a hug and a kiss. He responded automatically, keeping his eyes on Daisy. Always Daisy. Forever Daisy.
And then she was there. So close. Too close . . . And he was vaguely aware of Spencer and Lia discreetly edging away from them to allow them as much privacy as they could get in a place like this.
“Mason.” That was all she said, and he nodded, before forcing her name out. A name he had futilely forbidden himself from even thinking over the last few weeks.
“Daisy.”
“It’s so nice to see you.” She put a hand on his shoulder, and he tried not to flinch from her touch. She went up onto her toes and attempted to brush her lips across his cheek. He didn’t bend down to meet her halfway, and instead her mouth grazed his neck, and he tensed even further.
She removed her hand, and he mourned the loss of her touch.
“You’re dancing,” he pointed out, desperate to keep everything casual. Just a couple of acquaintances, reacquainting themselves.
“Yes. As you so kindly pointed out, I’ve spent way too much time mulling over the past, so I figure it’s time for a change, right? Time to grow up and try new things.”
What new things?
“Your skirt’s too short,” he said, and she bent backward and craned her neck to try and see her own butt.
“You think so?” she asked, sounding remarkably unconcerned, where before she would have gone into spasms of doubt and insecurity over it.
“Your ass is hanging out.”
She laughed at his words, still much too lighthearted. “Well, you always said I have a nice bum, so I’m showing off my best asset. No pun intended.” Her voice was light, inviting him to share the joke, but he found himself incapable of even smiling right now, and her smile faded while the laughter died from her eyes. And Mason immediately felt like a prick for extinguishing that inner light. “Are you still angry with me? Won’t you forgive me? I know I was wrong to use Shar’s bitchiness as an excuse to end things with us. And in the end, it was literally all my fault.” Daisy laughed bitterly. “Do you want to hear something hilarious? It was me. I’m the one who told Shar about us. Zinzi overheard Daff and I talking in the powder room. And that’s where Shar got all her information! I’m so sorry, Mason.”
“Don’t,” he said gruffly. “Don’t keep apologizing. You have nothing left to apologize for.”
“We were friends,” she said, her voice mournful. “And I hate losing your friendship.”
“We weren’t friends,” he growled. “You told me that once, remember? We were never merely friends, Daisy.”
“Then what were we?”
“Nothing.” But that was a lie, and he shut his eyes before admitting the truth. “Everything.” When he opened his eyes it was to see her back as she walked away, never having heard his truth.