I miss you, too, she replied. Then she set the phone on the kitchen counter to charge.
When she returned to the living room, Jameson had nearly finished with the balloons.
“You good?” he asked, one corner of his mouth lifting.
“Just peachy.”
“I like peaches.”
She rolled her eyes and started threading balloons into the arch strip, the brush of their shoulders now buzzing with awareness.
They worked until nearly midnight. Their fingers ached, their eyes were heavy, and Daisy’s head spun a little from the three glasses of wine.
“Okay, this looks pretty epic,” Jameson said, grinning at their work. “Amelia’s going to freak out.”
“Yeah. I was hesitant about theGooniestheme, but this is kind of awesome.”
“Would’ve been more awesome if I’d paid someone else to do it.”
“Har, har.”
“I’m kidding. It was fun doing this… together. You happen to be my second-favorite person to hang out with.”
“Let me guess—Amelia’s first?”
“Isn’t she yours, too?”
“Most definitely.”
She grinned.
“And thanks again for appeasing me. Next year, we can pull in some resources. I underestimated the effort.” Daisy hesitated. “Anyway, I should head out.”
“I can’t let that happen yet.”
She stilled. “Are you going to hold me hostage?”
“Tempting, but no. I just want to make sure you’re totally sober before you drive. It’s late. If you wanted to crash here, you know I wouldn’t mind.”
Weeks ago, that thought would’ve sent her running. Now, chills prickled up her spine at the idea of stealing more time.
“I appreciate you. I feel fine to drive, but I’ll have a bottle of water to be extra sure.”
He nodded and fetched one.
They sat on opposite couches, waiting for the other to speak. When neither did, they just smiled at each other, each reading the same electric charge in the air that sparked along the open space between them.
Daisy broke the silence first. “So… how’s the album coming along?”
Jameson leaned back, studying her. “Really well. I’ve been inspired lately, which shows in my writing.”
“That’s great, Jameson. I really enjoyed your last album. They’re all very good.”
“You’ve been listening again?”
She nodded.On repeat, though she didn’t say it out loud.
After the night at Bullets, something magnificently unruly had cracked open inside her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so alive. The days following were filled with the music she’d missed for years. She bought every TKC album and crammed years of listening into days—car, house, and her studio. Even Amelia was all for it. Daisy played the clean versions when she had to, but she loved the look on her daughter’s face when they were jamming to her dad’s songs. The pride they both felt was indescribable. Sometimes Daisy choked up thinking about it. His once-dreams were now his reality, his music shared with the world, the legacy he’d wanted finally here. And once again, she was a part of it.
