“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 na?ve 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.