Page 3 of Choosing Forever
My friend of only a year grabs my hands tightly, refusing to let them go again. “Are you mad at me? Please tell me you’re not mad at me. I’m going to tell Penny I changed my mind and refuse to swap classes.”
“Take a breath, Daisy. I’m not mad at you,” I reassure her.
Mad isn’t the way I would describe how I’m feeling right now. I knew realistically that Daisy wouldn’t have done this to upset me. She knows why teaching the second graders this year is theworst-case scenario, and out of every woman I know in this town, Daisy Mitchell is the one I trust to watch my back the most.
“Okay, you’re not mad. But you’re upset. I’d be worried if you weren’t. Tell me what I can do to help,” she rushes out.
The gold band on her ring finger digs into my palm as she continues holding my hands. Bryce, her fiancée, has a matching one. They’re simple placeholders until they get married and can give each other tattooed ones.
Saying Bryce Mitchell is going to take a while to get used to. For Daisy as well, I think.
“It feels like a terrible joke from the universe, doesn’t it?” I ask.
Daisy smiles apologetically and puffs out a breath. When she releases my hands, it’s so that she can wave down a waitress.
“What did you do recently to have karma snapping at your heels like this?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
She tightens the clear elastic at the end of her over-the-shoulder braid and leans her elbows on the table. “I’m serious, Della. I’ll call Penny right now and tell her that I’m not teaching your grade.”
“It’s not my grade. Not any more than the second was yours.”
The waitress joins us in a blur of navy and the scent of fresh coffee. I turn away the coffee and a potential meal while Daisy does the opposite. She immediately takes a sip of the black coffee when we’re alone again.
Before her plain white mug has been clunked down onto the table, she’s asking, “Do you think you can do it? And don’t just tell me what you think I want to hear. Tell me the truth.”
“That depends on what you’re asking about specifically.”
I’m stalling. It’s as obvious to her as it would be to a stranger on the street. The moment I accept that I don’t know if Icando this, it becomes real. And that thought is enough to make nausea churn in my stomach.
Daisy blinks twice at me, her head tipping to the side. “Are you really going to try that? You know it won’t work with me.”
I wring my hands together, a clump of fear clogging my airway. The empty diner grows hotter until I’m positive I’m sweating through my blouse.
“Hey, talk to me, sweetie. Tell me that you’re going to be okay, or I’m calling Penny right now and demanding she put things back the way they were,” Daisy adds as gently as she can with her concern.
“No, don’t do that,” I mumble before clearing my throat. “I’m a grown woman and a professional. I’ve got this.”
“I didn’t ask you if you could handle it. I asked if you were going to be okay with it.”
“While I appreciate you being so open to speaking up for me, I’m not going to get special treatment. And especially not because of this. I’m a fantastic teacher, and I love what I do. I love the kids and being a part of their journey in life. That’s what matters, right?”
Daisy focuses on me, her eyes a bright blue that I swear I can see my reflection in. While they’re usually full of life and excitement, right now, they’re so pitifully sad that I have to fight to keep myself bunkered down in this booth.
“Two things can be true at once,” she murmurs.
“And what two things are those?”
I regret my question immediately. There’s no time to take it back before Daisy’s reply comes.
“You can be all of those things and still not want to teach his daughter.”
The way I flinch is ridiculous. My chest shrinks, growing too tight and confined.
“Please don’t, Daisy.”
“Tell Penny no, Delaney. Don’t do this to yourself,” she pleads, reaching across the table for my hands.
