“Missing me already?”
Jesse’s laugh echoes down the line. “Just checking to make sure you’re not still bawling your eyes out.”
“I did not bawl.”
“There was snot on my T-shirt from where you’d blubbered on me.”
“Oh God.” I wince. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m just teasing. It’s nice to know you’re gonna miss me. I just hate to see you cry and know I’m the reason for it.”
“They were happy tears and sad tears and proud tears. I’m gonna miss you so much, but I’m incredibly proud of you, Jesse, for getting into university. You’re going to get your degree and become a lawyer. God, I cannot wait until the day I see you in your cap and gown, up on that stage, receiving your degree.”
“I haven’t even started my courses yet”—he laughs—“and you’ve already got me graduated.”
“Yeah, well, I just know you’re gonna rock it.”
There’s silence on the line that has me asking, “Are…you okay?”
He sighs. “Yeah. It’s just…I guess it’s weird, being here. In a new place. You know, where I just have a bedroom, and the rest is shared facilities with the other guys. It kinda reminds me of the boys home. The first night I spent there after you were arrested.”
My throat closes up. “Jesse…”
“I’m not blaming you, Daisy. Jesus, of course I’m not. I hate the fact that I ever doubted you and blamed you. Just sitting here brought back some sad memories for me, and…I guess…I wanted to hear your voice. Just remind myself that we’re here now, and it’s different. That things are good. And you’re fine.”
I swallow back tears. “We’re here, and it is different. It’s amazing. I’m fine, kiddo. And I couldn’t be prouder of you.”
I feel his smile.
“You already said that.”
I smile myself. “And I’m gonna keep saying it, so you’d better get used to it.”
I hear a voice in the background, and Jesse says, “Be there in a minute.”
“Everything okay?” I ask.
“Yeah, just the guys I live with are going to the pub. They’ve invited me to go with them.”
“Go. Don’t let me keep you. And have fun. And don’t drink too much. And be safe. And I love you.”
He laughs, and the sound washes through me like a sweet melody.
“I will. And I won’t. And of course I will. And…I love you, too, Mayday.”
He disconnects the call, and I breathe through the emotion.
Don’t cry. You’ve cried enough today.
Blowing out a breath, I get to my feet to start the cleanup before I lock up for the night.
I always like a little music to clean to. Like I used to when I cleaned the Matis Estate. I used to wear my earphones then, so as not to piss off Kas.
He always was easy to piss off.
But this is my place, and I can listen to music as loud as I want. Well, without annoying the neighboring businesses, that is.
Setting my phone on the counter beside the coffee machine, I go to my music and select Zayn’s “Like I Would.”
This song reminds me of Kas. It was playing that night in the club when he sabotaged my date with Cooper and was waiting for me outside the restroom.
I like to torture myself with it every now and then.
Sad, but I like to think of myself as being the one singing the lyrics to Kas.
I’m telling him that he will never find anyone who will love him like I would love him. Do love him.
And, yes, I’m that sad.
In Kas’s mind, I’m probably just a bad memory of a time that he’d rather forget.
He walked away. He was right to.
And, now, he’s probably moved on to some gorgeous Greek beauty who isn’t saddled with a world of emotional baggage and who doesn’t remind him of death and other things I choose not to think about because, if I do, my head might explode.
Actually, it’s feeling close to explosion now, so I focus on cleaning the coffee machine.
I’m halfway through cleaning it when Zayn has finished, and now, John Legend is singing “All of Me.” I’m getting all emotional, singing along to the lyrics, wishing someone—okay, Kas—felt that way about me, thought those things about me, when the door chimes, opening.
Who’s that? I put the Closed sign up. Some people just don’t pay attention.
Sucking in a breath, blinking my eyes clear, I turn around. “I’m sorry. We’re clo—” The words die on my tongue, and my heart falls out of my chest.
“Kas,” I breathe his name, like I expect him to disappear in a puff of smoke.
“Hi, Daisy.” His words are soft, tentative.
And my brain is failing me.
I don’t know how many times I’ve pictured this scenario in my head. That I’d be here late, and he’d walk in, telling me that he missed me. That he regretted leaving. That he couldn’t get over me. That he loved me. And then I would jump into his arms, and he’d kiss me. Then, everything would be like it was.
I watch too many chick flicks, I know.
But he is here. And, now, I can’t move or speak or do anything but stare at him.
He looks exactly the same. Like no time has passed at all.
I’m suddenly conscious of how I look.
Dressed in black trousers and a black polo shirt with the coffee shop’s logo. My hair is tied back into a messy bun. I have no makeup on because I cried it all off earlier.
I look terrible.