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Daisy
We’re in bed,the sun dropping outside Tom’s window. I ease up on my elbows and look at him.
“So that’s where kisses lead,” I say. “No wonder my mother warned me about them.”
Tom laughs and flips onto his side, one hand propping up his head, the other tracing up my bare side. “Well, not always, CeCe. Sometimes, a kiss is just a kiss. But other times, when two people really like each other, in a special kind of way, they show it in a special kind of way.”
“And that’s how babies are made. I think I’ve had this talk before. No, wait, the talk I got was, ‘Don’t let boys touch you there, or you’ll have a baby.’”
“Touch you where?” His fingers graze over my stomach. “Here?”
“Nope. That’s safe.”
They slide up my stomach and cup my breast. “Here?”
“Slightly more dangerous territory, but not baby-making.”
He tickles circles up to my side, down it, over my hip and between my thighs. “Here?”
I groan and flop back on the bed. “Damn. Now we’re totally having a kid. I hope you’re prepared for that.”
His mouth opens. Then he shuts it and gives me a rueful smile. “I was about to say something that would mark me as one of those creepy dudes who moves straight from first kiss to bended knee.”
“Are you asking me to have your babies, Tom Lowe?”
I say it lightly, teasing, but his cheeks flush, and I laugh. Then I lean in to kiss him. I run my hands down his body, and when I ease back, my gaze follows, drinking in the view.
“Genetically speaking,” I say, “I must admit, you make an excellent case for fathering babies. You were a cute kid, Tom, but you grew up fine.”
“Ah, so that’s how you ended up in my bed.”
“Nah, it’s just a very nice bonus. Like the prize in a box of Cracker Jacks. You buy it for the candied popcorn, and you get something extra.”
“Uh, I seem to recall that you bought Cracker Jacks for the prize. You didn’t much like the candy part.”
“Right. Er, well, the analogy didn’t work anyway, since we’re talking about the packaging as the bonus, not the hidden prize. It’s like...” I struggle to think of something. “Like knowing a boy when you’re kids together, and he’s sweet and smart and funny, and then you meet him again twenty years later, and he’s totally hot, while still being sweet and smart and funny.”
“Now that’s an analogy.” His grin softens to a wistful smile as he brushes my hair from my shoulder. “I keep thinking of how things could have been different if we’d stayed in touch, of all the time we lost. But then I’m not so sure we lost it. That maybe this was better. Gave me time to get my shit together first.”
He pulls me against him. “The real tragedy would have been if I’d never met you again.”
“Agreed,” I say.
He holds me for a moment before murmuring into my hair, “You said Liam found out the truth. About you. That’s why he confronted you the other night.”
I try not to tense at the change of subject, struggle against the urge to kiss him and distract him because I really don’t want to talk about this. But that’s the problem, isn’t it? I don’t want to talk about it. I’m inwardly freaking out, and if I can’t deal with that by taking action, I want to just forget about it until morning comes and I can strap myself into the command chair and make decisions and plans.
That is avoidance. It’s the part of me that is just tired, so damn tired, sick with grief and anger and confusion and wanting to lose myself in Tom.
I can do that once I’ve resolved this. Once I know whether Celeste killed my grandmother. Once I am free from suspicion in Liam’s death.
“Yes,” I say. “He knew I’m Maeve’s granddaughter. He said he’d just figured it out. He also claimed the imposter tricked him, too, which I doubt.”
Tom wrinkles his nose.
“You think she did,” I say. “And that’s why she killed him.”
“I think the jury is still out on whether Liam was part of this.” He shifts back, hand on my hip, head propped on his other arm. “The reason I got sucked into that money laundering is that, like Liam, I figured I was smarter than everyone I was dealing with. I came from a place where I was always the smartest guy in the room. Top of my class. Smartest in my family. When I went to college, I got knocked down a peg or two, but still, these guys running their scheme were from back home, and not exactly intellectual giants. I could make money while keeping my hands clean. In short, I was ripe for a fall, and it knocked sense into me. Liam was me before my fall. Always the smartest in the room.”
