Page 67 of Pushing Daisy
“I’m sorry.”
“No need,” he says. He looks down the street before releasing a sigh of resignation. “I should probably go.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“I’ll see you guys in a couple of weeks?” he says.
Daisy smiles. “Absolutely. Thank you again.”
“Anytime, Daisy Hale,” he responds before turning and walking away.
She stays momentarily, watching him walk down the street, wondering if what he said was true—was Sloan jealous? If so, why? Wasn’t she the one who initiated their little arrangement?
A cool burst of wind blows down the street, scattering leaves as it goes. Daisy wraps her coat tightly around her and heads into the wind, ready to face whatever the day has in store for her.
Sitting at the table, iced coffee in hand, Daisy double-checks that she’s checked in with every vendor and support personnel she needed to and verifies their response. She still has to meet with a couple more to discuss menus and such, but seeing the outpouring of love from the community has been amazing. So many of the businesses she reached out to for welcome bag goodies or help with activities have told her that they think an event like Mixing Our Spirits has been needed in Leeside for a long time. Some even hoped it would become a yearly thing—to which she said she would love for it to be, but ultimately, that was up to the council, and they needed to get through this one first.
Picking up a piece of paper with tallies and figures that start to blur the longer she looks them, she hears her front door open. Her magic sparks to life, dancing under her skin, recognizing Sloan’s presence.
Sloan’s head peeks around a corner, followed by a box of cupcakes and what looks to be an apology face. Her eyes are red and puffy, as if she’s been crying for an extended period, and her luscious brown hair is up in a messy bun. She looks far more casual than usual, and it’s absolutely endearing.
It’s been two days since the run-in at the coffee shop. Three days since Sloan told Daisy she missed her. All of it too long since she’s laid eyes on the woman who has charmed her. Sloan has helped Daisy open up and, in turn, has laid herself bare before Daisy.
“Hi,” Sloan squeaks. Clearing her throat, she tries again, “Hi.”
“Hi,” Daisy responds, eyeing the box of cupcakes.
Sloan’s mouth faintly quirks up as she slides the box across the table. “I thought you might like a pick-me-up.”
“You thought right,” Daisy replies, opening the box and choosing a double chocolate fudge piece of perfection. She peels the wrapper off the bottom and licks her thumb to get the smudged icing off, not missing how Sloan’s breath hitches as her eyes follow Daisy’s every move.
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m surprised to see you.”
They speak in unison, then laugh like awkward teenagers.
“You first,” Daisy says, motioning with her hand.
Sloan nods, sitting opposite her. “I’m sorry for how I behaved the other day. When I saw you with Petra and Barker,” Sloan begins, her voice small, “I was taken by surprise. I know we haven’t agreed to anything exclusive, and I had no right to act like I did.” Sloan’s eyes glisten with tears. At this moment, whatever is going on here is clearly hard for her. But why is it hard?
“Thank you? I guess.” Daisy’s eyebrows pull together in confusion. “To be honest, I’m not entirely sure what you’re apologizing for.”
Sloan tilts her head. “You don’t know what I’m talking about?”
“Not really, no.”
“Oh. I thought I was rude and kind of skittish, like a scared animal. I wasn’t sure what I had walked in on, and if we’re being honest, I was worried I had intruded on a date you were having with Barker.”
“Do you think I regularly go on dates and bring my best friend along?” Daisy asks.
Sloan pauses, and with the look that comes across her face as her features soften and relax, it’s clear that she now realizes it wasn’t a date. That it was merely three people having coffee.
“Oh” is all Sloan manages to say.
“Why did you think it was a date?” Daisy asks.
Sloan looks down at the cupcakes between them, picks one up, and places it in front of her on a napkin. “I saw him give you his number at the orchard. And his arm was draped around your shoulder.”
