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“It smells like him,” I said, whispering.
“It’ll be a start,” she said.
She walked me over to the leather couch in the corner, and we slowly sat down. All of a sudden, I was 15 years old again. I was sprawled out on my father’s couch with a book while he typed aimlessly in the background, mumbling to himself about orders and paperwork and new products.
“Your father was a good man, and you’ll always have those memories of him,” she said.
“I miss him so much,” I said, sniffling.
“I know you do. And you’ll be able to keep his legacy going when you take over Harte To Heart,” she said.
“I want to keep making specialty supplies for the community. He really had a heart for that. But I don’t have the creative mind he did. What if I can’t do it?” I asked.
“You are more like your father than you realize. You’ll get into the swing of things, I promise. You just need to let yourself grieve first,” she said.
“I didn’t even get to say goodbye, Daisy,” I said. “He was gone. His mind was already somewhere else.”
“I know,” she said. “I know, sweetheart.”
“It killed me, pulling him off that ventilator,” I said breathlessly.
“How’s Christian taking all this? Is he coming by later?” she asked.
“Who the fuck knows?” I asked, pulling away from her. “He came to the hospital, murmured to his mom for a bit, pulled her plug, and left before the life-support machines even fucking died down.”
“Yikes,” she said.
“Yeah. Just as fucking heartless as Greyson just was,” I said.
“So, you won’t talk to your callous stepbrother, but you’ll have sex with your insensitive boyfriend.”
“Daisy,” I warned.
“Sorry, sorry. Anyway, when do you start with the company?” she asked.
“The reading of the will is Monday, then once they declare me the head of the company, I can get started immediately. The will serves as official paperwork until I can get stuff signed and notarized,” I said.
“Well, you’ll have to call me afterward so we can go to dinner. Your treat,” Daisy said, winking.
“I can do that,” I said.
“In the meantime, what are you doing for dinner tonight?” she asked.
“I’m just not hungry,” I said.
“That what you told Greyson?” she asked.
“I said I didn’t feel like going anywhere, which is the truth. I want to sit here and marinate in the memories and smells of this home. It’s all I’ve got left of him, Daisy. I’m not ready to leave it.”
“And no one’s asking you to. Not me, at least,” she said.
“But, thanks for the offer,” I said.
“Oh, you’re not getting out of eating. Pizza delivers. What was your father’s favorite?” she asked.
I smiled at her before I laid my head on her shoulder. Daisy was my best friend for many reasons, but one of the main reasons was that she understood. She accepted the way I needed to wind down and study. The things I needed to accomplish to feel like I’d succeeded in life. She understood the way my mind processed things and what was necessary for me to move on.
And, at this very moment, she understood how I needed to grieve.
