Chapter 6

chapter

six

Owen

Daisy’s text comes through on my silenced phone while I’m putting Graham to bed, so I don’t see it until hours later.

Daisy: How’s your evening?

It’s now 9 p.m., and I wonder if it’s too late to text her back. I feel like a complete idiot for leaving her hanging for two hours.

Me: Hey! It’s good. Uneventful. Wish we could have talked longer.

Daisy: I just wanted to say thanks for dinner and the conversation. And also for saving me from tens of thousands of dollars in plastic surgery.

Me: ??

Daisy: The almost-accident? You saved me from a broken nose.

Me: Oh, that. It was nothing.

Daisy: It was not nothing. It could have gone very badly. Worse, Graham or I could have been crushed by that thing.

Me: Don’t remind me. I get nauseous thinking about anyone close to me getting hurt.

Daisy: You’re a good friend and an awesome dad. And, much better on your feet when you’re not nervous.

I want to tell her she’s much more than that to me. And it wasn’t about catlike reflexes. I want to tell her that I saw red the moment I sensed danger happened to the two most important people in my life. I want to tell Daisy that anyone and anything harming a single hair on her head makes me ready to blow a gasket.

Me: You’re a sweetheart.

Daisy: I should let you get ready for bed.

Me: I’m not getting ready for bed yet.

This is a complete lie, of course. I have to spend about an hour in the garden tomorrow before my mom comes to babysit Graham so I can fit in a shift at the store.

Daisy: Oh. Well, you must have to get Graham ready for bed then.

Me: He’s already snoozing away.

Daisy: Look at you. You’re a lot more together than you think you are.

Me: You wouldn’t say that if you saw what I was watching.

Daisy: Ooh, I’m intrigued. What is it?

Me: You’ll judge me.

Daisy: I told you, nothing shocks or offends me. Safe space.

Me: Fine. Love Island.

Daisy: Oh boy. Nice knowing you.

Me: Told you.

Daisy: Just kidding. Where should I start if I want to catch up?

Me: From the beginning, of course.

Daisy: You are full of surprises, Owen Mosley.

Me: Is that a good thing or a bad thing?

Daisy: The jury’s still out. Go to bed, farmer, I know you’re lying. And I’ve got some reality TV to catch up on.

I let several minutes pass, staring at her contact photo in my address book, switching back and forth between that and re-reading everything she wrote tonight.

I tap out one last reply before I shuffle off to the bathroom to brush my teeth.

Me: I checked with a medical malpractice attorney and I have good news. I’m still, technically, not your patient.

Who knows what’s behind her “lol” that follows. But it’s enough for now.