Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 48061 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 240(@200wpm)___ 192(@250wpm)___ 160(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48061 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 240(@200wpm)___ 192(@250wpm)___ 160(@300wpm)
What’s really making me shake, makes the knot of fear wrench behind my ribs, is the certainty in the back of my brain. I’ve only ever felt like this once in my life. When I was pregnant with Liam. I’m dizzy and sweating, and I make my way to the bathroom, stooped over with my hand over my mouth.
Once I’m alone, I shut my eyes and tip my head back against the cool tile wall. You’re an idiot, Daisy. Knocked up twice by the same guy who doesn’t even know about the first kid you had, I think to myself. But my shame can wait, and so can figuring out what to do from here. Right now, I’m going to be there for my mom and listen to what her doctor says about her progress.
I splash water my face, determined, and make my way to the receptionist who directs me to the exam room my mom was called back to. I join her and murmur that I’m fine, just an upset stomach. I give my full attention to the doctor and squeeze Mom’s hand when we get the news that she’s released to drive and return to work. I insist on taking her out to celebrate with Liam later.
She agrees, but she’s giving me major side-eye because I know she’s thinking what I’m thinking. That a positive pee stick is just around the corner for me. That all my best-laid plans are going to go up in smoke. I stop at a drugstore and buy a pregnancy test.
“I’ll be in the living room when you’re done. If you want to talk,” Mom says when I make a beeline for the bathroom.
I feel the same dread and embarrassment from years ago, multiplied by my age and experience now. My hands shake while I do the test even though I know what the outcome will be.
Less than three minutes later, it’s positive. I go get a drink of water in the kitchen and sit down to tell my mom.
A couple days later I’m struggling to stay awake at a kid’s birthday party. Liam’s having a blast, climbing on something in the huge indoor playground. I sip soda and try not to be rude to the other mom talking to me.
“We’ve been together six months,” she says. “You seeing anybody?”
“No,” I manage.
“He’s got a buddy that just got divorced. I can set you up,” she offers.
“That’s sweet of you, but no thank you.” I say, “I’ve got my hands full with work and Liam right now. But thanks.” I try to be friendly about it, but it just makes me miserable. I’m never going to want a blind date, any date at all. Because I’m not going to get over Benny Falconari. I might as well face it.
20
BENNY
Ioverreacted when Daisy didn’t explain where she was on the night she stood me up.
I don’t like secrets—ironic for a guy in my line of work, I know. She’s not cheating. she’s not the type. If she’s keeping something from me then she’s got a good reason. I just flipped out instead of listening to her. I keep trying to tell her that, but I’m pretty sure she’s blocked my number at this point. If she wanted to talk to me, she would have by now. I want to explain myself and have a chance to reconcile. She’s shutting me out. I have to trust that we’ve both grown up, and she’ll hear me out eventually.
I wait another week, thinking every day she’ll decide it’s worth trying to talk about hard shit and work it out. Day after day she doesn’t contact me. I’m a man of action and have to do something. I know where to find her.
First thing one morning, I walk in to Snip when it’s just her and one other stylist. I catch her eye, and she gives the same startled look as when we ran into each other at the bodega right after she moved back. Like she wants to make a run for it.
Clapping eyes on Daisy again should feel like victory, a relief at least. But she looks like shit. Worry surges through me—I’m used to adrenaline, but this is the opposite, a rush of dread and regret that presses down on me.
Before I say a word, she shakes her head, lips pressed together.
“I could use trim. You got time?” I say.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she says shakily.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just please don’t come in here anymore.” She won’t look at me, and my plan to get her to talk with me while she cut my hair is shot to hell.
“You know where to find me,” I say.
After I stop at the office, I head to one of our warehouses. I set up a meeting with the dissident faction. I’ve got to smooth things over before we have a major rift. Dad’s got lunch with an old pal of his so I have a couple hours to work some diplomatic magic. One of my guys brings in aluminum pans of food from the car. Nobody’s in a mood to negotiate on an empty stomach.