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He closes the door behind me, and we stare at one another for a long pause, before I smile, faintly. “I saw your email.”
“You and everyone else in the building.” He winces and runs a hand through his hair. “So okay. Let me have it. Because everyone else so far has been telling me they think that was a terrible move. Or freaking out and asking my advice on what to do.”
I laugh. “It wasn’t a terrible move,” I say. “It is going to, understandably, freak people out. But think how much worse they’d be freaking out if you didn’t give them a heads-up, and just sprang all this change on them with no warning the way your father wanted to?”
“Exactly.” He sighs and straightens, squaring his shoulders. “Well. Like I said. It’s the first step toward being open.”
“Speaking of which.” I tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear. His gaze follows it, and I smile a little, glad to know I can still distract him so easily. “There’s something I should have shared with you already, Bronson. And your message today inspired me to do that.”
“You mean the reason you feel you need to leave this company no matter how hard I try to improve it?” He leans back against his desk and crosses his arms, but he’s smiling. “Try me.”
So I do. I tell him everything, starting from the beginning. I tell him about how his stories about big city life enthralled me; about how I came to LA seeking a future that didn’t exist for me back home in Atlanta. I wanted to make more money, save up for my future, and I wanted more career opportunities than I had at home. But instead, what I found was a grind that I hated. The cost of living was so expensive that no matter how hard I tried, I felt like I could never save up much more than the bare minimum. And my job was so demanding, but not teaching me anything I wanted to learn, and not giving me the kind of experience I wanted. It was just a lot of busywork and acting like a secretary for higher-ups who didn’t care about me or my career or what my goals were.
But then came the real problems. Mom’s health. Her being in and out of the hospital. Her doctors telling her that she’d need more regular care; preferably someone living in the same house as her, in case she had any emergencies again.
I explain how I need to go home now. I already wanted to, before all this—I hated LA, it wasn’t anything like I thought it would be. But with everything going on with my mother, now I have a deadline. I need to be home by the time her cousin needs to leave in a couple of weeks.
Which is why I need to be fired. I need my severance pay in order to afford to be able to move home. Between shipping my possessions and my car back, and my flights, and buying myself out of my lease…
I wind up shaking my head, and suddenly, I feel warm arms encircling me, pulling me tight. Bronson holds me against his muscular chest, and I rest my forehead against him, savoring the feel of him holding me. His hand gently rubs up and down my back, along my spine, making me shiver and relax at the same time somehow.
“Why didn’t you tell me any of this?” he murmurs against my hair, and kisses the top of my head.
I sigh, and feel his arms tighten around me. “I didn’t want to burden you,” I whisper. “It’s my life, my problems. Not yours…”
“Daisy.” He reaches down to tuck a finger under my chin, and tilts my head back until I’m gazing up into those deep, steely gray eyes of his. “How could you think this would burden me? Your struggles are my struggles, Daisy, and anything you’re worried about or dealing with, I want to be able to help you with.”
“But why?” I burst out before I can stop myself.
He laughs. Then he shakes his head slightly, smiling as though he can’t quite believe me. “Because I love you, dummy,” he says, as though this ought to be obvious.
My heart soars so high it feels like it’s catching in my throat. “You love me?” I whisper, eyes going wide.
“This is the part where you tell me you love me too,” he points out, laughing.
I burst out laughing too, and he hugs me again, until I have my face pressed to his chest giggling. Finally I pull away and sober up, reaching up to brush his hair back from his forehead. “I love you too, Bronson.”
“I was getting worried there,” he tells me, but he’s smirking. Then he leans in, and I tip my head back to meet him, and our lips collide.
When we part, he tucks a stray strand of my hair behind my ear and trails a fingertip down my cheek, watching me like I’m the most precious thing in the world. It’s a look I can never get enough of.
“So you need to leave,” he says.
I press my lips together, wincing at the reminder. “Do we need to talk about that right now? I was enjoying the moment.”
He kisses me again. “What I mean to ask is… Do you want some company?”
I laugh and roll my eyes. “What, in Georgia?”
“What did I just say?” He leans down to kiss the edge of my jaw, inching toward my lips. “Your problems are mine, Daisy. But I’d like to make your solutions mine too.”
“What are you talking about?” I rest my arms on his shoulders, which gives me enough leverage to lean up and kiss the corner of his mouth.
“I’m saying, let me come with you.”
I pull back, my eyes widening. “But your job.”
“Screw my job.” He cups my cheek. Tips my face toward his. “Dad’s never going to approve of me. No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try to prove myself to him, he’ll always tell me I’m not doing enough. That I’m not the exact carbon copy of him he wants me to be. So let’s go.”
I yank free from his arms. “I can’t ask you to give up your inheritance.”
“I want to. I don’t want to live like this anymore. Catering to him, being owned and controlled by him at every step. I have some money saved up, from what I’ve made working here so far. And my apartment is in my name. So I sell it, and we use that money to fly back to Georgia together and get a house. It’ll be more than enough money to set us up; we can even get a place big enough for your mom to live with us.”
“You’d do that?” I stare at him, my jaw going slack.
“Of course. Daisy, I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. Nobody’s ever made me understand so much about myself; realize so much about how to be a better person and how to be myself, instead of just whoever other people want me to be.” He steps toward me. “And, you know. I miss the south. Our life there was great. But, admittedly, maybe I’m a little bit selfish, too.” He smirks. “Because I know what I want. You, Daisy. Any way I can get you.”
I stare at him for a long moment, unsure how to respond. Unsure how to even parse what’s happening. But deep down, I know this is what I want too. If it’s crazy, well, who cares? Sometimes crazy is what you need.
“Okay,” I finally whisper. Then I laugh, unable to believe what’s happening, what I’m saying. “Okay, Bronson. Let’s do this.”
He reaches out to catch my hand, and I’ve never felt more sure that I’m right where I’m meant to be. With Bronson by my side.
Epilogue
“Daisy?” I kick off my shoes by the front door and squint at the darkened entryway. “Marcy?”
Daisy’s mother, Marcy, has been working on me, trying to convince me to stop calling her Mrs. Rider for months. I’ve finally caved in—though I haven’t quite graduated to calling her “mom” yet. That feels too presumptuous.
Maybe after we get married…
I smile a little wider at the reminder. The memory is still fresh in my mind. Two weeks ago, I picked Daisy up from work and drove her out to the lake we paddle-boated across that magical first month we spent together. Right there on the dock, beside a picnic spread and a bottle of champagne I picked out for the occasion, I went down on one knee and asked her to be mine for the rest of our lives.
