“Hey, you can always talk to me.”
“Eh. You have baby-daddy issues to worry about now. I need professional help anyway. Because I swear, if this man wins half my company, I’m going to need more than a shrink.”
Chapter Eighteen
THE FOREHEAD BENEATH DAISY’S PALMburned like it had been lying in the July sun all day. If the heat wasn’t proof enough, the thermometer blinking 101°F sealed it: her daughter was still very sick.
Amelia had woken the morning prior with a sore throat and an aching stomach. She’d willed herself better for her mother’s big party the next day, but wishing did nothing. She still felt awful.
Amelia cried into her pillow when Daisy shook her head. “You still have a fever, baby girl.”
“Noooo, I’m better, I promise,” she blubbered, tears streaking her pale face. “I want to go to the party. I want to wear my pretty dress.”
Amelia had picked out the prettiest pale blue dress for the occasion and had been itching to wear it since the day she brought it home. She had told everyone at school about the sparkles and little white flowers down the side. Now that she was sick, Daisy had to put her foot down and make her rest, even though it pained her to do so.
“You’ll just get sicker if you come, honey.”
Amelia struggled to sit up. “But I feel better than yesterday. Please, Mommy?”
It was those big blue puppy-dog eyes that did Daisy in. She glanced toward her mother, who leaned in the doorway, then back at Amelia. “Tell you what. If you rest today and you’re better tonight, maybe you and Nani can stop by for a few minutes.”
Amelia’s mouth almost curved into a smile. It hurt to see that much hope. Daisy knew it might be shattered when the cold medicine knocked her out and she slept straight through.
“Really?”
“Yes, but I need you to rest. And don’t be sad if you can’t come. Mommy will have other parties.”
Amelia hiccupped a sob, muffled an “Okay,” and rolled onto her side. Daisy kissed her warm forehead, then followed her mom into the hallway.
“How do you feel?” Daisy asked.
“I’m fine. Just recovering from the same bug. I think your father is the culprit.”
“What do you mean?”
“He had this cold last week. Then he passed it to me. Now to Amelia. Sorry I’ll miss your event.”
“Don’t worry, Mom. Thank you for watching her.”
“Of course, honey. Have fun. And who knows, maybe we’ll make a miraculous recovery by night’s end and stop by.”
“Yes, maybe.”
She arrived at the studio hours early. Nicole met her at the door, itinerary in hand. The reception desk had been transformed intoa full-service bar; a DJ was setting up beside it. Daisy anticipated a big night. Several bloggers and columnists were coming, and she needed everything to go perfectly. Her best pieces were up; she and Jess had spent most of the week curating and priming the gallery.
With less than an hour to go, Daisy introduced herself to the doorman, who’d be checking names, and to the waitstaff circulating platters of hors d’oeuvres. Then she slipped into her office to change into a long-sleeved white cocktail dress and nude pumps. A quick touch-up on hair and makeup, and it was time.
An hour in and the studio thrummed. Friends, past clients, and a handful of Bay Area elites packed the room. She couldn’t have asked for a better turnout. She floated from cluster to cluster, answering questions and telling the stories behind her work.
“Anna!”
Her best friend, glittering in a short silver dress, hugged her. Behind her stood a very attractive man with short dark hair and warm mocha skin.
“Friend of yours?” Daisy whispered.
Anna pulled back, brows waggling. “This is Jean-Luc.”
Jean-Luc extended his hand. Daisy shook, flicking a look at Anna and then at the man she’d never heard mentioned.
