Page 61 of Pushing Daisy
Daisy places a bottle of ketchup and a stack of napkins next to Stella before pouring a drink for another patron. “Don’t laugh,” she says when she returns.
Stella perks up. Intrigued. “This has to be good. Who is it?”
“Sloan Wilks,” Daisy says sheepishly.
“What?” Stella yells.
Daisy puts her hands up. “Shh.”
“Sorry. But Sloan. The tormentor herself?”
“Yes. She’s really not that bad. Just misunderstood—like me.”
“Okay, I gotta know how this happened,” Stella says, settling further into her seat.
Between getting drinks and orders for other patrons, Daisy fills Stella in. Daisy shares about the couple of makeout sessions she and Sloan had over their weekend at The Dandelion that she conveniently left out last time she and Stella talked, as well as their new current agreement. When she’s done, Stella can only stare at her, mouth slightly agape.
Daisy laughs. “Yeah. I didn’t see it coming either. But if we wanted to complete this project, we needed to give in to the heat between us.”
“And if it’s as good as you say, thank fucking Hecate you did!” Stella says, raising her nearly empty glass to the air in salute.
“Hear, hear.”
“Honestly, I’m happy to see you doing better. Not to be rude, but you were in rough shape when I last saw you.”
“Yeah. I’m working on it. But having this event to work on has been helpful. It’s given me something to look forward to.”
“That’s great. Seriously, I’m happy for you, Daze.”
“Thanks, Stella. Truly. And thank you for being here for me when you didn’t need to be. You don’t owe me anything after how I treated you—and I’m so sorry for that. I can’t tell you how much it has meant that you came when I needed help.” Daisy smiles softly at Stella. It’s not much, but she hopes that Stella understands how much she appreciates her support and kick in the pants.
The friendship with Stella post-breakup has been unexpected, but she meant what she said; her support has been appreciated. As they continue chatting and Stella fills her in on who she’s seeing and all their fun details, Daisy feels a little ember of hope blossom in her chest. Hope that she can one day have what Stella seems to have with her new partner, and hope that Stella is right—that there is someone out there meant for her and that she is worthy of that love when it arrives. In the meantime, she’s content to have some mind-blowing sex with Sloan. Or at least she plans to be content as often as she can until Sloan calls it quits.
As her shift winds down, Daisy reaches for her phone and checks for messages from Sloan.
None.
She’s been oddly quiet today. They’ve practically been messaging nonstop when they aren’t together. She tries not to read too much into the sudden silence, but something in the back of her mind tells her that Sloan is trying to keep her space and setting a boundary between them.
She attempts to reassure herself by saying that Sloan has likely been busy at work, that she hasn’t had a chance to chat. Deep down, she senses there is truth to that, but her stupid heart, looking forward to seeing Sloan’s name on her phone, can’t be so sure.
“Stop being a needy bitch,” she tells herself, grabbing her coat and wallet from her cubby in the back before heading home for the night.
As she enters her living room, her magic thrums under her skin, sensing something isn’t quite right. She steps further into the room before noticing her grimoire is open on the coffee table. Not where she left it.
She approaches it cautiously because while she hasn’t had it in her possession for long, she knows it can be fickle. She leans over, reading the displayed page.
Honesty Spell
“An honesty spell? Really?” she asks the tome.
It flicks its pages at her, clearly miffed that she’s questioning its expertise, before landing on the honesty spell again.
“No one is lying to me. Or if they are, I don’t need to know about it,” she answers, walking away and into the kitchen to make dinner. She hears the grimoire pages flipping wildly behind her but ignores them. That book mysteriously showed up on her doorstep and pushed her to bond with it. While it’s helped her tap into the power in her family line, she’s still hesitant to trust it fully. It also feels weird to believe a book suggesting someone is dishonest with her. What next? Is she going to start listening to the toaster?
She makes a quick bowl of ramen and brings it into the living room, sitting on the floor. She places the bowl on the table beside the grimoire as it slams its cover on the table. “If you don’t behave, I will lock you in the basement. Your choice,” she says, slurping a spoonful of broth.
The grimoire closes itself up and returns to the bookcase with what sounds like an audible humph.
