“It’s my reminder of strength and my ability to pull myself out of hard times and overcome the challenges I’ve faced.”
“I love that. Is that why people call you Chains?”
“Yes, it started after I got the fifth one.”
“I love how you’ve linked our names together. It’s cute.” I did it because I never thought I’d see her again. “Have I not shown you enough that I’m anything butcute?”
“I know what I see.” She smiles. “Would you rather I call you Chains and not Kade?”
I brush my fingertips up and down her arm. Once I associated my real name with the past and preferred people call me Chains so I could forget it. It’s different coming from Daisy. “I like the way you say my name. Especially when you’re screaming it during an orgasm.”
She pinches my chest. “Kade!”
Tapping her nose, I say, “And when you’re trying to act like the good girl we both know you’re not.”
She giggles. “You’re a bad influence.”
“Not going to deny it.”
Her expression turns serious. “Are you really okay?”
“Yes. I’ve come to terms with my past.” It doesn’t mean the aftereffects didn’t break things inside me.
Things that can’t be fixed.
twenty-four
DAISY
Abuzzingsoundbreaksthroughmy sleep. I slowly blink my eyes open. The room is pitch black from the blackout curtains, and I have no idea what time it is. Turning my head to the side, I find Kade isn’t lying next to me. Flicking on the lamp on the bedside table, I scan the room. It’s empty. I prop myself onto my elbows.Maybe he’s in the bathroom.
The sound is still buzzing, and I realize it’s my phone on the nightstand. Springing to a sitting position, I check the time on my watch. Oh crap! It’s 9.45 am. Church starts in fifteen minutes. With everything that happened last night and through the early hours of the morning, I forgot to call my father to let him know I wasn’t going to make it to church.
I check the caller ID and groan. Of course it’s my father. He’d be wondering where I am. I’m always there early to make sure the flower arrangements are set up perfectly, and everything is clean and tidy.
Clearing my throat, I answer. “Hi, Dad. I should have called. I’m sorry I can’t make it today.” There’s a moment of silence,and I have to check the phone screen to make sure I didn’t disconnect by accident. “Dad, are you there?”
“Yes… yes,” he says. “Daisy, this isn’t like you. Is everything okay?”
“Yes, sorry. I think I’m getting sick.” I cough for effect. “I slept in.”
“Are you okay? Do you need to see a doctor?” Guilt tugs at my chest at the concern in his voice.
“No, it’s not that bad. I’ll take a couple of Tylenol, and hopefully I’ll be fine by tomorrow.” Lying to him makes me feel guiltier.
“People are starting to arrive. If I’d known you weren’t going to turn up to greet them, I would have organized Mrs. Goldstein to take your place.” Knowing that I’m not dying, his tone has changed to one that sounds a little annoyed.
“I’m sorry.” I drop my head into my hand. “I’ll call her and ask her if she can stand in for me.”
“Never mind. I’ll catch her before she gets settled in her seat. Are you too sick to make it after the service for morning tea?”
Where’s that magical portal I need to get me there? “Umm…” I cough and sniff. “Sorry, my head’s killing me.”
There’s a knock on the door, and it opens. “Room service,” a woman says a second before she rolls a cart into the room. I quickly pull the sheet up to cover my naked body. “Oh, sorry to disturb you while you’re on the phone, Ms. Barlowe. Mr. Sullivan ordered breakfast to be brought into your room.”
I inwardly groan and pray to God that my father didn’t hear.
“Who was that?” he asks. That’s karma for lying.
