“I think I’m going to marry you one day,” he casually murmured.
Daisy propped up. “What?”
He smiled cockily.
“You heard me.”
Gathering the hair at the base of her neck, she rested her chin against his chest. “Yeah, I heard you. Why’d you say that?”
“Because it’s true. I can’t imagine life without you. Most people couldn’t handle this—city after city, crazy schedules, the demand. You get it. You still choose me, despite the fact that I won’t see you for five months.”
She held him tighter. “I just want you to be happy.”
“Oh—and did I mention selfless?” he teased. “I’m crazy about you. I know we’re not in any position to think about marriage now, but I can’t wait for the day we share a last name.”
She was stunned. Was he real? Yes—and he was hers.
“I love you.”
“I love you, too. Now get dressed. I want to take you somewhere.”
Sunset found them at his house briefly. He went inside for a moment, leaving a bewildered Daisy on the porch. When he reemerged, he held a picnic basket in his hand and led her to a nearby park. Under a sprawling oak by the man-made lake, he spread a blanket and unpacked an absurd feast. Daisy suspected Margot’s fingerprints on the sandwiches; after all, homemade turkey sandwiches with cranberry sauce were a grade above what Jameson could’ve prepared.
After they’d eaten, Jameson picked up a small rock next to the oak tree and carved something into it. It was the simplest thing, and yet her eyes filled:
D + J
“Whenever it gets hard and you get in your feelings, or miss me so much that it hurts,” he said, touching the carved letters, “come here, to this very spot, and know that I miss you just as much as you miss me.”
Then he kissed her so hard she forgot how to breathe. At that moment, Daisy felt ready—for all of it. The waiting, the distance… and the love.
When Jameson left, Daisy did what she always did: she poured herself into her art. It always sharpened in his absence—the one good thing about him being gone.
Senior year began without Sean and without the usual chaos that came with seeing the guys every day. She leaned on Anna that first month, especially around Homecoming, when it became obvious Jameson wouldn’t be making any surprise appearances. Daisy skipped it, choosingPretty in Pinkwith a tub of Ben & Jerry’s.
They talked most nights after his shows. Opening-act life was brutal: no privacy, a bus shared with bandmates and three additional crew. When they weren’t on stage, they were doing interviews, and when they weren’t speaking to the press, they were out “networking,” which was code for partying.
While Daisy trusted her boyfriend, she didn’t trust the women who surrounded the band. She could only imagine the groupies who were assembling in their wake. They were young, attractive men with swoon-worthy accents. She tried not to blame the girls whom she pictured would hover. Who wouldn’t want to be near that kind of light?
The tour started in Texas, Ace Monroe’s home base, and snaked through every major city to New York. Daisy planned to meet him at the final show in the city. In the meantime, she was planning something of her own.
The idea had come to her one night after she’d gotten off the phone with Jameson. He was in Miami, recapping the day’s events, but there was one particular thing about his recap that had Daisy fixated. Jameson had stumbled upon a pop-up featuring local artists.
From there, her idea manifested.
She’d curate her own show—not just hers, but a small showcase of local artists who inspired her. And she’d tie in a give-back: a portion of every sale, plus a “pay-what-you-can” print table, would go to the community arts program at the San Mateo Recreation Center, the same place that first let her showcase her own art.
Anna handled décor and invitations, Aunt Devya helped with logistics, and her parents provided the budget. Right before winter break, Daisy hosted the intimate gallery night in downtown San Mateo. Her parents’ friends came. Margot, Rebecca, and Charlie showed up, bringing love from the boys, who were in Philadelphia. Jameson was crushed to miss it; Daisy pretended she was fine, but she was equally as crushed.
Halfway through the evening, a man in a Bloom City cap delivered two dozen red roses. Daisy knew who they were from before she opened the card.
Daisy,
Tonight you show off—one step toward conquering the world.
I wish I could witness the night you become unfurled.
Just know that I love you, I mean how could I not?
