“And Ryder?” I cry. “You lived with Ryder Black? So, when you said you had a crush on him, you weren’t talking about a fantasy crush. You actually know him.”
Her wry smile dims. “He just thought of me as a kid, which made me mad because he wasn’t much older than me. But they were all gentle and sweet with me, even though I was miserable and pushed everyone’s buttons. I was so messed up after everything that had happened.”
She averts her eyes, playing with the rim of her coffee cup. “I watched movies all day and didn’t go out. Chase kept trying to get me to see a therapist. He said we had to make arrangements, that he couldn’t hide me forever. He was right.
“Sebastian had these parties. Chase would always watch over me, make sure I didn’t get into any trouble. And Ryder was just as protective as Chase. But one night, Chase was working late, and Ryder had a date with some model. They told me to stay in my room, but I didn’t listen. I’d been crushing hard on Ryder all summer, so I was wild with jealousy. I got smashed and left with a random guy. All I wanted was someone to distract me so I didn’t hurt anymore and prove that I wasn’t the child Ryder thought of me as, but instead, I got into a bad situation. I called Chase in the middle of the night on set. He came and literally carried me out of some club. But we were photographed. The tabloids went crazy. The only blessing was they didn’t get a clear picture of my face.”
“I remember reading something about that,” I say, shocked it was my friend. I didn’t follow celebrities, so it must have been a scandal if even I heard about it.
She nods. “It was all over. They thought I was his new girlfriend. They called me ugly, a gold digger, a whore, a mess. I couldn’t stop reading the comments and the fan sites. It was horrible and everything that was written just reinforced what I’d been hearing all my life from my dad, my mom, and the assholes she dated. I felt as if everything I touched went to hell.”
“Daisy, none of that is true.”
She inspects her manicure, refusing to meet my eyes. I can’t imagine Daisy with low self-esteem. She’s always been self-confidence personified. But maybe I’m not the only one who tries to hide. Maybe we just hide in different ways.
She takes a deep breath before continuing, “I was tired of being a burden, of hurting, of being such a mess. So, I…I found pills in one of the guest rooms that someone had left and swallowed them all.”
“Daisy!” I hug her close to my side. I’m surprised at how small she feels, because she’s got such a huge personality. I’m not sure how long we stay like that, but my eyes mist as I think about how much pain she must have been in to be that self-destructive.
She sniffs and pulls away with an awkward laugh, wiping tears from under her eyes. “I’m fine now. I don’t think I truly wanted to die, but I wanted everything to stop for a while—all the confusion, all the hurt. They got me to the hospital and kept everything as hush-hush as they could.
“If it got out who I was, no one would believe the brother-sister story since we weren’t technically related. An underage runaway staying with three megastars was bad enough, but add in a suicide attempt and drugs? It would be a PR nightmare. I don’t know how they did it, but all three with their star power kept it quiet. It must have cost a fortune.”
She looks at me through wet lashes. “I told you it wasn’t a pretty story. But it does get better. I don’t know if it was almost dying or the therapy I got in the treatment center, but I turned my life around. Chase managed to arrange it so that I moved in with a nice family to finish high school, and I got accepted at the Art Institute, which is how I came to San Francisco. Unfortunately, I wasn’t any better at college than I was at high school, so I started my vintage business with Chase’s help.”
“I-I don’t even know what to say. I never could have imagined any of it.”
Daisy laughs. “No one could. Which is good. All this secrecy, it’s because Chase feels like he needs to protect me. He doesn’t want to risk me being in the tabloids or getting attacked on social media again. And he fears that if we get photographed together, the story of that summer might finally come out. I think he’s petrified that I’ll have another breakdown if that happens. I keep trying to tell him that I’m stronger now.” She grants me a wry smile. “So, you still want to be friends with this drama girl?”
“Daisy, you’re amazing. Whatever happened in the past has made you the incredible person you are. This just makes me prouder to call you my friend.”
“Right back at you,” Daisy says with a watery laugh. “Now, it’s your turn to explain what happened when you met Chase and why you didn’t tell me about it.”
I look away from her too-insightful gaze. “Nothing happened. He bought coffee. It wasn’t a big deal.”
She shoots me a skeptical look. “Olivia, I think there’s more that you aren’t telling me, but I won’t pry. At least not right now because I’m too damn tired. But here’s the thing about Chase. He may seem like he’s got it all together, and he does. He’s got money and success now. But in a lot of ways, he’s still that foster kid who’s afraid to trust. And his issues with fame make trusting even harder. After what happened with me, he’s so afraid of letting people in and hurting them, losing them, even if he won’t admit it. But he needs and deserves someone special in his life he can trust. More than he realizes.”
I nod, my mind full of thoughts about Chase. My idea of him recalibrating with everything Daisy has said. “Daisy, I think you’re imagining more between us than there is. I’ve only had a few brief conversations with him. Honestly, I’ll probably never see him again.”
Daisy smiles. “Hmmm. Well, I don’t think that’s precisely true.”
I tilt my head. “What do you mean?”
“Want to do me a favor?”
“It depends on the favor,” I say with a wry expression.
“Don’t worry. It’s one I think you’ll like.”
CHAPTER 13
Olivia
The next day, I stand at the door of Chase James’s hotel room, carrying a box that contains a gift for him from Daisy and a tin of home-baked cookies from me. I’ve been standing here for way too long, but I can’t quite force myself to knock.
Get it together, Olivia, I lecture myself.
I’m not some fan stalking the guy. I’m here on a Daisy-sent delivery mission. I’m doing my friend a favor.
Daisy asked me to deliver this gift to Chase because she had some sort of vintage-fashion emergency and had to leave town. She told me to apologize for her, and that she would be back in San Francisco in a few days and would call him then.
It occurs to me that she might be matchmaking, but that doesn’t make sense. I’m a San Francisco girl who works in a bookstore. He’s a Hollywood star. In what world could we ever make a good match? It’s all a little odd. Though, admittedly, so is Daisy.
Regardless, I don’t question the favor. I’m not stupid. Of course, I jumped at the chance.
I consider this my risk for the day.
Before I left on my little “movie star errand,” I baked him a batch of Nanna’s famous chocolate chip cookies. It’s the least I can do.
Yesterday afternoon, a crew came to my house, ready to install a fancy and way-too-complicated alarm system. I called Daisy and tried to tell her I didn’t need an alarm and couldn’t afford one even if I did, but she said Chase insisted on it.
I’m not sure why he’d care about my safety one way or another, but maybe that’s just the kind of celebrity he is. Walking around gifting girls alarm systems and kisses. There’s also the little matter of him keeping me from jail. It would be rude not to thank him properly, which means with baked goods.