Margot looked over. “What he did must have broken your heart, because it sure broke mine. But he’s changed. The man in there is resurrected. Sobriety rearranged his priorities. Finding out about Amelia finished the job. I haven’t seen him this happy in years. You and your daughter did that. So while I don’t like that you kept her from us, I want to thank you—for raising a wonderful child.” She paused before saying, “And for bringing back my boy.”
The shiver that ran through Daisy wasn’t from the breeze. It was from the words she hadn’t known she needed.
“And, Daisy… I’ll only say this once because I’m British and we don’t pry.” She frowned. “I may have no right to ask, especially due to the nature of your previous separation with my son and his horrible actions. But please, please don’t break his heart. If you give him a sliver of hope, he’ll take it and never giveit back. If it breaks this time, I fear, deeply, that he may never recover.”
The next morning, Daisy found her way to the kitchen and was surprised to see a pot of coffee already brewing. As she helped herself to a cup, she heard a sound behind her and assumed Margot was up, only to turn and find a petite, unfamiliar woman step inside.
Startled, Daisy sloshed coffee over her hand. “Ow!”
“Oh no!” The woman rushed toward her. “Let me help.”
Daisy pulled her hand away.
“I’m sorry, but who are you? And why are you here?”
“I’m Alice. Jameson’s assistant.”
Daisy eyed her suspiciously, backing a step. “Funny. He’s never mentioned an assistant. Or an Alice.”
“I promise I’m not some psycho fan breaking in.”
“That’s exactly what a psycho fan would say.”
Alice rolled her eyes and disappeared, phone pressed to her ear. “Jameson, get down here. Daisy thinks I’m an intruder,” she barked, then hung up.
“How do you know my name?” Daisy demanded.
Jameson’s groggy voice came from behind her. “Because she actually is my assistant.”
Relief and mortification collided inside Daisy. She turned to Alice, wincing. “I’m an idiot. Sorry.”
“At least you’re cautious.” Alice smiled kindly. “Now, let’s get that hand under water.”
Jameson’s brows knit. “What happened?”
“She spilled her coffee. She thought I was one of your stalkers.”
“Are you okay?” he asked, eyes only on Daisy.
“I’ll live.” She rinsed under the tap, then shot him a look. “Why didn’t you ever mention Alice?”
He shrugged. “Never came up.”
“Gee, thanks,” Alice teased, pouring herself a cup. “Good to know where I rank.” She nudged him playfully in the arm.
Daisy watched, trying hard not to bristle. Alice was gorgeous—dark curls, carved cheekbones, and smooth caramel skin. The type of woman anyone would notice.
“You’re high up there, Alice,” Jameson said, half apologetic. “But between the press and, oh right, finding out I have a kid, forgive me for letting it slip my mind.”
Alice grinned, patting his back.
Don’t touch him, Daisy thought, teeth clenched.
“How long have you worked for Jameson?” Daisy asked, voice pleasant, though she was feeling anything but.
“About four years now. Gosh, it feels like so much longer than that,” Alice said.
Daisy folded her arms. “Are you quitting soon, since Jameson is moving back to the Bay?”
