“I’m meeting Nicole at eleven. Then headed over to the studio.”
“Who’s Nicole?”
She paused mid-bite, arching a brow. “Nicole. My event planner. For the studio’s show next Friday.”
His eyes didn’t quite meet hers. The expression on his face saidoh no. “Right.” He tapped at his phone, then grimaced. “I’ll still be in New York. Dinner meeting that night.”
Daisy rose with her empty plate. “Of course you will.”
“Come on—”
“No,youcome on. I told you months ago, and you said you’d be there and—” She stopped, biting the inside of her cheek. “You know what? It’s fine.”
She rinsed her plate and headed for the bedroom.
“Daisy, don’t be like that.”
“Go to New York,” she said, not turning. “I’ll see you when you’re back.”
“Daisy…” she heard him say, but didn’t respond. She was quick to shut her door and turn on the shower spout. It was only seconds later when she heard the front door close and her phone chime simultaneously.
It read,I am sorry, I’ll see what I can do.
Nicole was already tucked into a corner booth at Betty’s Brews, a tiny coffee shop just south of Daisy’s studio. February air nipped at her as she slipped inside, unwrapping her scarf. A steaming cup waited at her seat.
“Thanks for the coffee. You’re too good to me,” Daisy said, lifting it.
“Not me.” Nicole pointed toward the counter.
Arlene, Betty’s owner, winked over her espresso machine. “Mornin’, honey.”
“Good morning, Arlene. Thanks for the latte.” Daisy winked back, taking a sip of her hot coffee.
Arlene bustled over moments later with two chocolate croissants. “On the house, ladies.”
“Thank you,” they chimed.
“You’re welcome. We used a different chocolate. Curious what you think?”
Daisy took a bite and the croissant melted in her mouth. “It’s fantastic.”
“Like actually fantastic, or you’re just saying that because I’m standing in front of you, fantastic?”
“Fantastic like, I will be taking one to go, fantastic.”
Nicole, who had already scarfed hers down, mumbled in agreement.
“I’ll get that right out. And I’ll throw in another for that boyfriend of yours. What was his name again?”
“Matt.”
“Matt,” she said his name and blushed. “When are you bringing him back in because my goodness, what a fine sight.”
They laughed. Daisy pictured Matt awkwardly tall at the counter, Arlene openly smitten.
“Careful, Arlene,” Daisy teased. “Wouldn’t want Bobby getting jealous.”
Arlene’s husband of thirty-five years had taken to “retirement” by supervising his willful wife from a corner stool. “Our motto is: you can look as long as you don’t touch.” She pointed her finger toward him, then settled back on Daisy. “Is he traveling again?”
