I thought a lot about it, why I did what I did… Why I left her, walked out of that apartment like she wasn’t all I’d thought about since we first ended that night at Jules’ birthday. Like she’s still not all I think about now.
It’s too late. She’s with someone else.
Seems stupid these days when I think about it, so I try my best not to.
Daisy for me was a complete trip — I accidentally fell in love with her, and I accidentally lost her. I wasn’t ready for it. I wasn’t ready to love someone how it turns out I love her.
I just never saw her coming, I couldn’t have picked loving her out of a lineup until it happened and then it was everything: my first thought, last thought, mid-thought, the name I’d say in my sleep, the body I’d think about when I was with other bodies, the smell I’d try to chase down every time I’d walk through a Selfridges just so I could breathe in something that smelt like her and feel close to her again, but I can never find it.
When she asked me to leave everything with her, all the shit of the life we were born into… I don’t know why I didn’t — I just wasn’t expecting it. That, and I have nothing else? I don’t have a life plan. My life plan’s been laid out in front of me since I was fifteen.
Me and Jo doing this fucking thing together.
Less ‘him one and me two’, more equal partnership, but then again, he is getting pretty cocky these days—
I don’t really care though, if I’m being honest. It’s a business, and I’m in it because I have to be.
I wish a bit that I could be like Uncle Harv, who pissed off to Aus and all to play sports, but it’d kill Mum, and Mum’s had enough killing in her lifetime, I reckon.
So I stayed, stayed with the familiar even though it ruined me a bit. Stayed in London, a few streets away from where Daisy lived but not anymore because she made good on what she said. She said she’d leave it all behind and she did. She’s done. Out of this life like a light and she’s probably better for it. Better how we’d all be if we’d just sort ourselves the fuck out but we can’t because it’s fucking hard to leave the only thing you’ve ever known, even when you want to and you can be sure of this: some days, I really want to.
I’m glad for her, that she seems okay. I mean, I’m fucking gutted. I’ve fucked up a lot since we broke up but I’m happy for her. As long as she’s happy.
She seems happy.
Taura says she is.
After everything that’s happened, she deserves happy.
And me? I stare at daisies when I see them on the sidewalk, I watch GBBO now to fall asleep at night, I see her face every time I close my eyes even though I’m about two months into sort of dating Vanna Ripley.
It’s messy, she’s a bit of a punish, and I should know better, but she’s hot and complicated in a way that distracts me enough from who I’m actually in love with.
Before that, I kind of bounced around. Almost had a dicey night with a lonely Parks in New York but we didn’t do it in the end — it was me who stopped it, if you can believe it — thought of Daisy, how it might crush her if she knew, which she wouldn’t. How would she know? Like she’d care anyway, she’s with the policeman now who was always popping up around her. But I thought of her anyway; it stopped me in my tracks.
I toss myself down into one of the red velvet seats at The Lecture Room & Library at Sketch; we’re late. We got flogged by the paps on the way out of my apartment and again outside the restaurant, and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I’m pretty sure she called them herself.
Bit of a pain, if I’m honest, old Vanna, but how the fuck else do you pass time in the town you live in when the girl of your dreams won’t talk to you and is holed up with someone else?
I have dinner with her brother, that’s one way I pass the time these days. I nod my chin over at Jules as we clasp hands.
“Happy birthday for the other day, man—”
Vanna kisses his cheek before sitting down next to me and smiling curtly at the girl across from her who came with Julian.
“This is Josette Balaska,” Julian tells me, gesturing to her loosely.
Beautiful girl. Short, almost-white blonde hair, pale skin, eyes that are sort of purple but they don’t look like contacts?
“So you’re the famous Christian Hemmes.” She reaches across the table with a knowing smile. We shake. “I heard you saved his life.”
I give her a shrug. “Something like that—”
Julian rolls his eyes at my faux-modesty and Vanna shifts in her seat because she’s not used to not being the centre of attention.
“This is Vanna.” I nod my head at her.
“Pleasure—” Josette extends her hand to her and Vanna stares at it before reluctantly taking it.
Josette gives her an easygoing smile. “How long have you been together, then?”
“Oh, we’re n—” I start but Vanna cuts me off.
“Two months.” She flips her hair over her shoulder.
Julian and I catch eyes and he looks away amused, flagging a waitress down and ordering a bottle of their best red.
“I don’t drink red wine,” Vanna tells Julian, clearly bored.
“So drink something else.” He yawns without looking at her.
I toss my arm around her chair. “What do you want?”
“Surprise me,” she says, not looking up from her phone.
I order her a bottle of champagne, and she reaches over and kisses me like she has something to prove, then glances at Josette, then Julian and then back to me.
“How’d you save him?”
I lick away a smile as I roll my eyes.
“He helped me find something,” Julian offers.
“What?” Vanna asks, putting her phone down.
“A painting,” he says, pouring himself more wine.
Vanna breathes out her nose and picks her phone back up again. “Sounds boring.”
Josette and I catch eyes. I guess she knows.
“Yeah.” I shrug. “No big deal—”
Just a painting worth £45,000,000 that’s been missing for the last twelve years that Scotland Yard was willing to trade for Jules’ freedom.
A crazy few months, actually.
Jules left in January on the run. Made it down to the Dominican Republic and then camped out til he hatched a plan.
The boys and I went for a surf trip in Hawaii and on my way back I flew through Playa Rincón. Jules told me he wanted to find a Van Gogh, barter his way back into London and have them drop all charges.
I didn’t have much else going on, and I missed his sister. Wanted to find a way to feel close to her without dragging her back into what she left behind.
So I tagged along.
Found it in the end, that’s how he’s back — not a single charge against his name.
At some point, Vanna gets up and goes to the bathroom. Julian waits til she’s out of earshot and gives me a look.
“I’m sorry, man — but there’s no possible way for the sex to be good enough to put up with her—”
I sniff a laugh. “She goes alright.”
Josette shakes her head. “She’s the most painful person I’ve ever had dinner with — and I once accidentally shared a meal with a Neo-Nazi.”
I nod my chin over at her. “That sounds like a good story—”
“I’m sure all stories sound good to you at this point, bro.” Julian throws me a look. “The precision with which she chose what lip thing to put on just before, holding those two tubes like they weren’t the same colour — are you on heavy drugs to cope?”
“If she’s holding you against your will…” Josette gives me a look. “Blink twice.”
“Alright—” I roll my eyes. “How’d you two meet then?”
“Oh,” Julian cocks his head towards her, “we’re old friends—”
“Friends is a loose term.” Josette’s eyes sparkle. “I’m between Berlin and New York, mostly. I fly through London a lot. We try to make the most of it.”
She pokes him in the ribs, and he elbows her away. Not massively touchy, even with the girls he’s shagging.
The only girl I’ve ever seen him hug is his sister, so I guess he’s hugging no one these days. He misses her — I can tell he does.
And I’ll say this, knowing him the way I do — which is well, now, by the way — the more I’ve gotten to know Julian, the more obvious it’s become: He didn’t just break Daisy’s rules, she broke his.
I can see how he skirts around her name, he leaves the room when I ask about her. Which I do, I check in with Miguel all the time, creep her Instagram, pester Tausie for clues — no one gives me much, just crumbs, really. But it gets me by. It hurts Julian, though. He blinks every time you say her name. Looks away and takes a breath.
I get it. It hurts me too, but mostly, I’m just glad she’s okay. I know he is as well, even though he wouldn’t say it because he can be shit like that.
He still pays Miguel’s salary, even though he turns a blind eye to what his day job is because he can be like that too.
I wonder how Daisy feels about that. Annoyed, probably. Bodyguards aren’t normal — she used to say that a lot.
But that’s part of the problem I guess. She took herself out of this life to be normal, but she’s her. The hottest girl in the world, honeypots for eyes, smartest person in every room. She’ll never be normal, even if she tries.
