Chapter 27: You Said I Was Your Favorite: Chapter 27

I’m second-guessing my every decision tonight. From how I do my hair to how much makeup I put on my face to the dress I’m currently wearing, which feels like too much. I’m completely overdressed and I probably look stupid.

Staring at my reflection in the mirror above my dresser, I rub my sweaty palms on the skirt, then shake my hands out, afraid I’ll ruin the dress.

I’m a mess. An excited, overwhelmed mess who’s about to go on a date with a boy who I’ve let finger me to orgasm not just once but twice.

Who am I? What happened to the Daisy I used to be?

I’m not that girl anymore. I’m someone different now and I don’t know if I like it. The new me is a little terrifying. But the idea of going back to the old me, who spoke to no one and never caught the attention of a certain boy?

That terrifies me even more.

Sliding my fingers through my hair, I tuck one side behind my ear, liking how it looks, cascading down my back in loose waves. It took forever to curl my hair and get the waves to stick since my hair is always so bone straight. I’ve got my daisy earrings in my ears because when do I not? But today, tonight, I have to wear them. My mother gave them to me. They’re special.

The ring on my finger is from her too. It belonged to her and my dad gave it to me after she died. I stare at the ring. A simple thin gold band with a tiny pearl sitting right in the center. It was the first piece of jewelry my father gave to my mother as their first wedding anniversary present.

I rarely wear it. I don’t wear a lot of jewelry at all but tonight I even have a necklace on. I’m dressing up.

For Arch.

The dress I’m wearing is made of the softest denim and has a deep V neckline, though it’s not very wide so it doesn’t expose much skin. The skirt is tiered, ending at about mid-thigh and while I’m not showing that much skin—no more than I would on a regular school day—I feel almost…sexy in this dress. It’s simple and cute and the platform sandals I’m wearing are the perfect touch.

At least, I hope they are. I hope Arch sees me and thinks I’m beautiful.

There’s a knock on the front door and I run out to the living room, coming to a skidding stop before the door and smoothing my hands down my skirt, reminding myself I need to be calm.

It’s just Arch.

Taking a deep breath, I paste a small smile on my lips before I unlock and throw open the door.

He’s standing on the doorstep, clutching a pot full of daisies in his arm. Reminding me of the other pot he gave me earlier today. “These made me think of you.”

Thrusting the pot out toward me, I take it from him, smiling like a loon. “They’re beautiful.”

“They’re daisies.”

“I know.” We share a look and I’m tempted to toss the pot aside and throw myself at him.

But I don’t.

Instead, I look my fill for a few seconds. He’s so handsome in the pressed khakis and blue button down that’s open at the neck, showing off the strong column of his throat. His hair is damp and pushed back from his face and he appears freshly shaven.

Just staring at him makes my chest—and other key body parts—ache with longing.

“Let me put this away.” I hold up the pot and turn to go set it in the kitchen, nervousness buzzing through my veins when I realize he’s followed me into the house. It’s when I’m at the kitchen sink about to run a little water in the soil that I feel him, pinning me in place, his front to my back. Solid and warm.

His arms sneak around my waist from behind, delivering a soft kiss to the side of my neck that leaves me a shivery mess. “Did I tell you that you look beautiful, especially with your hair down?”

I shake my head, smiling as I reach out and turn off the water. “No, you didn’t.”

“Well, you do. Happy Birthday.” Another lingering kiss on my neck and I’m afraid if he keeps this up, we won’t leave the house.

“You spoil me.”

“You deserve it.” His arm shoots out next to mine, fingers drifting over my mother’s ring. “Is this new?”

“It was my mom’s.” I go silent.

So does Arch, though he keeps his hold on me, his arms still wrapped around my waist. All I can hear is the steady beat of my heart, ratcheting up the longer we remain quiet.

“Are you ever going to tell me what happened?” he finally asks, his voice a gruff whisper.

I shrug. “Maybe.”

He doesn’t push. Instead, he asks, “Are you hungry?”

I close my eyes for a moment, grateful for his change in subject. “Yes.”

“We should go.”

“How are we getting there?”

“I’m driving you.”

“You have a car?”

He spins me around in his arms so I’m facing him, a smirk on his handsome face. “Yeah, I have a car.”

“I never see you drive anywhere.” I shrug. I guess I assumed he had a car but then again, he’s a Lancaster so maybe he has a hired driver who takes him everywhere he needs to go.

“Because I haven’t driven anywhere with you before.” He reaches out, brushing the hair away from my face. “You ready to go, birthday girl?”

I nod, tingling where he touches me. Shivering at the way he looks at me. His gaze hot and full of promise. I have a feeling this is going to be the best night of my life.

All thanks to Arch.

We end up at a steakhouse Arch made reservations at that’s about forty minutes from campus. Arch’s car is nice—a black Mercedes G Wagon—and he drove a little too fast for my taste, though I get the sense he took some of those curves extra fast on purpose to make me squeal. He’s got a naughty streak that means he’s always up to no good, and while there’s something endearing about his mischievous ways, it’s also a little terrifying.

When we’re seated and I crack open the menu, I almost fall out of my chair at the prices. I look up, trying to get his attention, but he’s too busy concentrating on the menu, his brows drawn together in concentration.

“I think I’m getting the ribeye. What do you want?” He glances up real quick, doing a double take when I’m hurriedly shaking my head. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s so expensive here.” I set the menu down and lean across the table, lowering my voice even more. “It’s too much, Arch.”

“No, it’s not,” he says firmly, returning his attention to the menu. “Get whatever you want. It’s your birthday. I want to spoil you.”

I can’t even afford a salad in this place and I scan over the various options, chewing on my lower lip. I’m so hungry and can’t deny a steak sounds delicious. I don’t eat a lot of red meat normally but when I do, it feels like a treat.

But a steak here is well over my budget and I feel bad, having Arch pay for something so pricey.

“I can practically feel the worry pouring off of you.” I glance up to find him watching me. “Order what you want, it doesn’t matter about the price. I can afford to pay for every single person’s meal in this place.”

He’s right. I know he can. But still—

“Daze.” My gaze jerks to his, noting the seriousness I see shining in the blue depths. “It’s a special night. Don’t ruin it.”

I smile at him and nod once. “I want steak too.”

“You should get the ribeye,” he says without hesitation.

I glance at how many ounces the ribeye is and wince. “I don’t think I could eat that much.”

“Get something smaller. Like a filet.”

I have no idea what sort of steak I should get because I don’t go to fancy restaurants regularly so I go with the one that’s the smallest, which means it’s the cheapest. When the server appears, Arch tries to order a beer but the server just sends him a knowing look and instead, he gets a Coke. I order a glass of water and the moment the server is gone, Arch is shaking his head.

“Live a little, baby.” My stomach tumbles pleasantly at him calling me baby. “You don’t have to stick with water.”

“Want me to try ordering a beer like you?”

He bursts out laughing. “He might serve you a beer. You’re cuter than me.”

I don’t know about that, but I don’t say it out loud.

When the server comes back with our drinks, Arch orders a couple of appetizers and I ask for a strawberry lemonade, which pleases my date.

“That’s my girl,” he says when the server is gone, a faint smile curving his lips. “Living it up with a lemonade.”

“Stop.” I mock glare at him and he chuckles. “I like lemonade.”

“Of course, you do.” He shifts forward, leaning his forearms on the table. “What else do you like?”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Yellow.”

“Food?”

“Pizza.”

“Class?”

“English.”

“Flower?”

“Roses. That was my mom’s name. Rose. Rosalie actually, but everyone called her Rose.” My voice drifts and I tell myself not to think about her too much.

He nods, his expression serious and I get the sense he’s glad I gave him that tidbit. That I told him something personal. “I thought for sure you’d say daisies.”

I slowly shake my head. “I like them too, but roses are special to me.”

“I understand why now,” he murmurs, his gaze never straying from mine.

“What’s your mom’s name?” I ask.

“Miriam.” He rolls his eyes. “No nickname. She’s always just Miriam.”

“You don’t like the name?”

“It sounds formal. Like her.” The server arrives at our table, handing me my drink while Arch sips from his. The moment he’s gone, Arch resumes talking. “My parents are big on rules and appearances.”

“What do they think of you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t act like someone who cares much about rules or appearances.”

Arch grins. “I don’t. Maybe that’s why I am the way I am.”

“Always pushing the limits?”

“You know it,” he drawls, his foot nudging mine beneath the table. “Unlike you. My little rule follower.”

“I’ve never felt the need to push the limits.” I shrug one shoulder. “Though I’ve been doing it more since I started spending time with you.”

He’s grinning, extremely pleased with himself. “Isn’t it liberating?”

“Maybe.” I tilt my head, studying him. “Is that your issue? Do you feel caged in?”

“Being a Lancaster means there are certain…expectations put upon me.” He leans back in his chair, his foot still resting against mine. Like he needs to maintain contact. “Especially since I’m the oldest.”

“There’s Edie and who else?”

“There’s me, Edith, Jameson and Aidan.” A sigh leaves him. “We’re all given old family names and we all sort of hate it.”

“Like Archibald?” I lift a brow.

“Don’t make fun. We’ve already had this conversation,” he warns, his tone fierce, though he’s still smiling.

I like it way too much when he teases me.

The server returns yet again with our appetizers and Arch plucks a stuffed mushroom off the plate, shoving it in his mouth and immediately exhaling, his lips parted. “Hot.”

“That’s what you get.” I fork up a mushroom and set it on my tiny plate, letting it cool for a moment. “I’m guessing you’re hungry?”

He gulps the mushroom down. “Starved.”

We eat for a while, the mushrooms and the cheesy garlic bread Arch also ordered absolutely delicious. I listen to him talk about his favorite foods. The list is long. The guy is fixated on food, and I suppose I can’t blame him, especially since he’s traveled all over the world and has sampled some of the best cuisine out there.

“Italy?” I ask after he mentions the Amalfi Coast. “You’ve been to Italy?”

“A few times. I’ve been all over Europe,” he says.

“I would love to go there someday.” A dreamy sigh leaves me and I let my mind drift. Images I’ve seen on the internet flit through my mind. I even have a European travel dream board on Pinterest. “I’ve always wanted to see Europe. Especially Italy.”

“It’s gorgeous. You’d like it.” His smile is small, his gaze never straying from mine. “Maybe someday I could take you.”

I nod, dropping my gaze to the plate in front of me. He—we—shouldn’t talk like this. I have no idea if we’ll be in each other’s lives later. Everything is still so fresh and new between us.

But I love the idea of traveling all over Europe with Arch as my tour guide. Money would be no object. He could take me anywhere, everywhere. Maybe we could take a gap year and travel the world. My dad would be so angry but that sounds…

Fun.

Okay, I need to calm down. I am getting way too ahead of myself.

When dinner finally arrives, I’m worried I won’t be able to eat another bite thanks to the stuffed mushroom appetizer and our salad, but the second I take a bite of the steak, it melts on my tongue, making me moan out loud.

“Good?” Arch’s eyebrows are high enough to hit his hairline and I realize I probably moaned a little too loud.

I nod, swallowing the bite down. “Delicious.”

Throughout the meal, I can’t help but feel like a grown up, which is silly. To feel like one means I’m not one yet and I suppose that’s okay. But going out with Arch, ordering an expensive dinner and making conversation with a handsome boy, who keeps looking at me as if he wants to eat me alive, is definitely the sort of night that makes me feel very much like an adult.

It’s when the server clears our dinner plates and leaves behind a dessert menu that Arch sets something in the middle of table, causing me to look up from what I was reading. My gaze snags on a small box wrapped in gold paper, a white bow on top.

“What’s that?”

“A gift.” His tone is nonchalant but when I look at his face, I can see a hint of nervousness in his eyes.

“For what?”

“Your birthday.”

“You already gave me a gift.” I stare at the wrapped box, a heady mixture of anticipation and nerves twisting my insides.

“It wasn’t enough.”

It was more than enough. His gift was thoughtful. Sweet. I don’t need anything else, but I don’t say that, worried he’d take it as an insult.

I reach for the box and carefully undo the wrapped paper, slipping my finger beneath the tape, grateful nothing tears. Arch watches me, his body vibrating with impatience and I’m sure he thinks I’m being ridiculous.

Once the wrapping paper is gone, it’s obvious that it’s jewelry. The box is small, and when I take the lid off, I see black velvet nestled inside.

My heart hammers in my throat and when I wordlessly stare into his eyes, he murmurs, “Open it.”

I pull the velvet box out and crack it open to see a pair of earrings inside. They glitter and shine from the subtle overhead lighting, and I realize they’re in the shape of a flower.

Daisies.

“They’re beautiful,” I murmur, tracing the edge of the petals. The stones are clear, the center stone yellow and my breaths start to come faster at the realization. “Are these diamonds?”

He’s quiet for a moment and when he finally answers, “Yes,” I set the box on the table, pushing it toward him with a flick of my fingers.

“I can’t accept this.”

“Daisy—”

“It’s too much. Diamonds?” I stare at the still open box, the stones twinkling. Like they’re winking at me. “How much money did you spend?”

“What I spent doesn’t matter.” He shrugs.

It doesn’t matter to him. He could’ve spent a million dollars on those earrings and it wouldn’t affect his bank account whatsoever. But me?

Even a thousand dollars is too much. Five hundred. I don’t have that kind of money to just toss around. I’m not like him. Rich beyond measure.

I continue staring at the earrings, longing rising within me despite my protests. They’re beautiful. And from the slightly hurt expression on Arch’s face, I know I messed up. I shouldn’t turn down a gift, no matter how uncomfortable it might make me.

“Daze.” He reaches across the table and takes my hand from where it rests, intertwining his fingers with mine. “I wanted to give you something special.”

“You already did,” I croak, my throat suddenly thick with tears.

“Yeah, but those flowers right there?” He nods at the box. “They’ll never die. You’ll always have them.”

I’m smiling, my heart aching at his sweet words. They’re the most thoughtful, romantic thing anyone has ever said to me. “They are beautiful.”

His smile matches mine. “They are.”

“But roses are my favorite.” I’m teasing him now, reaching for the box with my free hand, pulling it closer to me.

“Well, daisies are my favorite. One in particular.” His expression turns serious. “I’m not trying to replace the daisy earrings you have. Just so you know.”

Did I tell him my mother gave me those? I can’t remember. “They’re definitely an upgrade.”

“I saw them and thought of you.”

“You just randomly go into jewelry stores?” I raise a brow, slowly withdrawing my hand from his so I can cradle the velvet box in my hands.

“Only when I’m looking for a birthday gift.”

When would he have had the chance to buy them? Maybe when he spent a weekend with his parents?

It doesn’t matter. What matters is he bought me this gift and I tried to tell him it was too much instead of gratefully accepting the earrings. I hope he doesn’t think I’m rude.

I trace the stones again before I take out the old daisy earring from my ear, then the other, replacing them with the new ones, which are much heavier. I place my enamel daisy earrings into the box and snap the lid shut. “I love them. Thank you.”

His relief is palpable, his gaze lingering on my ears. “You’re welcome. They look good on you.”

I slip the box in my purse, wondering how I’m going to explain these earrings to my father. He can’t see them, and even if he does, I’ll have to lie and say they’re costume jewelry. He’ll believe that.

Probably no one would believe they’re real.

By the time we leave the restaurant, it’s late and the air has turned cold. Arch slips his arm around my shoulders as we head for the parking lot, tucking me into his side and I go willingly, absorbing his warmth.

The entire night feels like a dream and I’m scared to wake up. Face the harsh realities of the day because I’m worried this…whatever it is between me and Arch? It won’t last.

How can it?

“You’re awfully quiet,” he observes, his arm squeezing my shoulders as he steers me toward his car. “You in a beef-induced coma or what?”

I can’t help the giggle that escapes. “Maybe.”

“Or maybe it was the dessert.” We shared a slice of cheesecake drizzled with raspberry sauce and it was delicious. “Too rich?”

“It was amazing. All of it. Thank you.” That’s probably the tenth time I’ve thanked him but I can’t help myself.

I’m grateful for the night. The dinner. The earrings. Just being with him.

“Want to go for a drive?” He pulls his key fob out and hits a button, unlocking the G Wagon.

“Maybe we should get back to campus. I don’t know when my dad will be home,” I remind him, touching one of the diamond daisies again. It’s like I can’t help it. They’re all I can feel, their weight still so obvious.

My words are like a splash of cold water in his face, ruining his mood. “Yeah. Okay.”

On the drive back, we’re quiet and I swear I even doze off at one point, startling awake only when the car swerves right extra hard, jerking me in the seat.

“Everything okay?” I ask, breathless.

The grim look on Arch’s face as he grips the steering wheel tells me that no. Everything is not okay. “Guy was driving extra slow back there so I passed him.” He sends me a look, the tension seeming to ease out of him. Maybe he sees the panic on my face. “It’s all good.”

My heart is racing and my body shaky from the abrupt way I woke up. I close my eyes, fighting the thick wave of melancholy that threatens to suddenly swallow me whole.

It’s weird, how fast it comes, seemingly out of nowhere. My head is full of memories of a past birthday where I was a little girl secure in the knowledge that she had two parents who loved and took care of her, and then all of a sudden, I only had one.

I try to keep it together, fighting the grief. The sadness. The tears. I’m not crying at this exact moment, but I’m on the verge and I feel…tense.

I wonder if Arch can sense it.

Opening my eyes, I watch him. How assured he looks driving the car, one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on his thigh. He’s so handsome and capable and strong.

I’m filled with the sudden need to confess what happened on this day. How that moment changed my entire world.

“Can I tell you something?” I whisper.

He glances over at me, his expression soft. The softest I think I’ve ever seen him look. “You can tell me anything, Daze.”

I believe him. I do.

Taking a deep breath, I begin telling my story that I’ve never said out loud to anyone else. Not really. I’ve given a few details to grief counselors. I’ve talked about her death in therapy. But never really with my father.

Never really with anyone.

“I was turning twelve, and I was going to have a party. I had some friends at the middle school I went to, and I was excited to have them over. I was getting ready with two of my friends in my bedroom. Kayla and Hallie. I lost touch with them after I started high school at Lancaster…”

My voice drifts and Arch remains quiet. I can tell he wants to prompt me. Push me to continue but he restrains himself.

Pushing me would only make me clam up more.

“Anyway.” I press the back of my head against the seat and stare out into the darkness. “We were in my room and I was trying on different outfits for them. I wanted to look good for my party, you know? Anyway, I heard a strange thud come from the dining room or kitchen, I couldn’t tell. I went running out there, thinking my cake fell off the table, which is just the most selfish thing, you know? But I was twelve and all I could focus on was my party. What I was getting. What we were doing.”

I pause, trying to gather my thoughts. Control my memories. “I actually found her in the living room, right behind the couch. It took me a minute to realize that my mom was lying on the floor on her back, her eyes wide and unseeing. She couldn’t see me. It’s like she couldn’t hear me either, because I kept saying Mom to her over and over. Then I said her name. It’s like I couldn’t stop saying it. Rose. Rosalie. Rose. She never answered me.”

More silence, the only noise the tires on the road. The steady hum of the engine.

“My dad came into the house at the same time I started screaming and he ran into the living room. So did Kayla and Hallie. They witnessed everything. My mom looked like she was dead. I thought she was. I couldn’t stop screaming and crying. It was—it was terrible.” A single tear falls down my cheek and I wipe it away viciously, annoyed that it made an appearance. “She had a brain aneurysm. She was pretty much brain dead by the time the ambulance took her to the hospital. She was on life support but when the doctors told my father there was no hope, he made the agonizing decision to take her off the machines. She died a day later. I know I said she died on my birthday when she actually didn’t, but it was close enough. I lost her that day, and she never came back.”

Without a word Arch reaches out and settles his big warm hand on my knee, giving it a squeeze. His touch is gentle. Reassuring, and I don’t know why, but the dam breaks.

And I cry like a baby.