Free. Finally free.
She closed her eyes and let the breeze tunnel through her. A sharp snapping sound cracked the calm, and she jolted awake.
It took a moment for the room to settle into place. Her bedroom window had blown open; a brawny gust funneled in. She crossed the room, shut it, and latched it tight. Then she climbed back into bed with a faint smile and drifted under again.
On Tuesday afternoon, Daisy bit her nail while she waited for a certain someone to ring her doorbell. Jameson was due any minute. She’d wiped down the counters, set out plates for the food he was bringing, and now had the tabloid Anna left behind open on her lap. She was ten pages in when she saw him.
Casual clothes. A Starbucks cup in hand. Walking down a street far too familiar.
Daisy lifted off the couch and brought the magazine close, scanning the background. Her gallery’s street. The exact outfit he’d worn the second time he came in.
Her mouth parted. She’d seen him in several magazines over the years, but this photo was taken a little too close to home. She hurriedly flipped through the rest of the pages, scanning them for any more stories about him. When none were found, she flipped back to the page she had spotted him on and read the caption below.
Looks like the heartthrob of rock ’n’ roll is ready to put down roots. A source close to Jameson Kingston, twenty-eight, says he’s house-hunting in the Bay Area. Though originally from the UK, Kingston spent his teen years in San Mateo, CA, where he graduated high school. “He wants to be closer to his mum,” the source says. Asked whether the move involvesrumored love interest Jenna O’Connell, also from Northern California, the source declined to comment.
Knock, knock, knock.
Daisy jumped from her seat at the banging on the door. She felt like she had been caught snooping into Jameson’s personal life even though the whole world could buy the same magazine. She set it aside, straightened her sweater, and headed for the door, only to have Amelia zip past her and fling it open.
“Hey, kiddo.”
“Jameson!” Amelia beamed, backing up to let him in. He winked at Daisy and set a hefty bag on the counter.
Something warm and rich drifted out.
“What did you get?” Daisy asked.
He pulled out a foil-wrapped loaf… and then, to her surprise, a large red Crock-Pot. Daisy arched her brow.
“It’s Mum’s beef stew,” he said, plugging it in. “She insisted.”
Daisy grinned despite herself and lifted the lid. The aroma immediately transported her into the past. Margot’s stew had been the one dish that could go toe-to-toe with her own mother’s. One breath and she was back at the Kingstons’ table on a Sunday night with a bowl of stew and a slab of cottage loaf.
“That was kind of her. Please tell her thank you.”
Jameson nodded and then threw away the paper bag that had held the food.
“I will. Though she’d prefer to hear it from you.”
They both turned their heads over to where Amelia sat at the island. Her hands were moving rapidly as she colored a picture in her coloring book.
“Maybe,” Daisy said, tucking the plates away and replacing them with glass bowls.
She wanted Amelia to know his family, his whole family, but she needed to tell her the truth about Jameson first.
“I’ll serve,” he said. “You two sit.”
They waited while he dished up the stew. Daisy whimpered—actually whimpered—when the steam hit her face again. When he finally sat, Amelia dug in with her oversized spoon, and Jameson followed suit.
Daisy coughed pointedly. Side by side, they were almost comically similar, both crouched low over their bowls, both with a crescent of stew on the same spot of their upper lip. She fought a smile.
“I think we forgot something.”
Amelia set down her spoon. Jameson blinked. He didn’t get it until Amelia stuck her hand out to him and murmured, “Prayer.”
“Oh.” He took her hand quickly.
“Mom.” Amelia nodded toward Daisy’s free hand.
