Page 59 of Whispers at The Bookshop Pretty Beach
‘Of course it is.’ Daisy sipped her drink and looked across the table. Miles still looked tired but softer than he had the last fewtimes they’d met. The lines of worry hadn’t gone, but they had definitely faded. ‘I’m glad she’s liking it.’
‘Me too. I didn’t know what else to do and being back down here, even just for the last few days, I’ve realised how much I miss it. How much I missed you.’
Daisy’s heart gave the tiniest of lurches.
‘Do you know what she said this morning? That she’d forgotten what it feels like not to be anxious about going out. Not that we’ve been out, as you know, apart from when you took her to coffee at Maisy’s.’
Daisy smiled and joked. ‘That’s the Pretty Beach air for you. Infused with sea salt, old gossip and cinnamon buns.’
‘It’s not just that. It’s the quiet and the pace. The way you can hear yourself think. I didn’t know how much I needed it until I got out of the car and smelled the sea.’
‘It’s why I never want to go anywhere else. I mean, why would you?’
‘I get it. So, what happens now?’
‘What do you mean?’
Miles narrowed his eyes and looked very serious. ‘I’ll cut to the chase. I want to make sure I am clear on, well, on us. We’ve done the I love you thing, but let’s be honest, I’m not exactly in the twins' life and as far as I can see, you three come as a package deal.’
‘Correct. You have met them…’
‘Yeah, but how long does that go on for? I’m not talking about adoption, but I think it’s time for me to be a bit more in if you see what I mean.’
Daisy didn’t know what to say. ‘Right.’
‘I feel a bit out on a limb. The girls are your life.’
‘Hmm.’
‘How do you feel about that?’
Daisy winced. ‘Unsure, is my honest answer.’
‘I love you, Daise. I think I’ve been in love with you since that ice cream incident.’
‘Well, that makes two of us.’
‘So, what do you think?’
‘I think that I need to think about it.’
‘That’s all you’re going to say?’
‘For now, yes.’
36
Daisy was sitting at the end of Annabelle’s marble kitchen island. The Aga warmed from the corner, a playlist hummed from a little speaker on the windowsill and the air was filled with the smell of artisan food; all harissa paste and aubergine salad. A log burner near the oversized, overpriced, overstuffed sofa flickered away to itself and anyone who had the fortune to sit by it.
The sound of Maggie coming through the enormous, wide, sisal rug-covered entrance hallway came through to the kitchen and a few seconds later, Maggie flounced into the room all posh trench coat, expensive wide-leg trousers and a bag worth more than Daisy’s car.
Maggie was her usual happy, bright, full-of-it self. ‘Ladies, how are we? We have a crisis by the look on your face, Daise. Am I right?’
Daisy shook her head and rolled her eyes. It had taken all of three seconds for Maggie to clock what was going on in her head. ‘Nope. Not at all.’
Maggie shrugged her coat off, hung it on a row of brass hooks by the back door, dumped her bag over another hook and whizzed around to the fridge where she grabbed a bottle of roséand a huge glass from open shelving, unscrewed the top from the wine and poured it generously into the glass. ‘I have been your big and bestest sister for your whole life and that look on your face is telling me that Houston, we have a problem.’
Annabelle chuckled. ‘Nailed it in one. I didn’t want to say anything.’
