by Lauren Layne
Lincoln cracked his knuckles, a habit he thought he’d ditched back in middle school. “All right, so, it’s bad but not desperate. I didn’t have her crying on the floor,” he said with a look at Mitchell.
“Nor did I fly to Texas.” This Lincoln said with a glance at Jackson.
“Nor did I ditch her on her wedding day,” he said to Cassidy, who calmly gave him the middle finger.
“But I did screw up,” Lincoln said quietly. “I pushed her away, I hurt her. I need to undo it.”
“Fireworks,” Jackson muttered again.
“Okay, what about a quiet, sensitive apology?” Grace said.
Riley gave a dramatic thumbs-down in front of her friend’s face. “I’m with Jackson. Fireworks. Oh, or maybe you serenade her in Times Square on those bleachers. Or you can do a heart on the Empire State Building, like that movie. Or maybe a penis, make it more modern. Seriously though, what is that movie I’m thinking of?”
“Sleepless in Seattle.”
Everyone glanced over at Emma, who’d been the quietest of the bunch. Truth be told, Lincoln had sort of been avoiding her ever since things had blown up with Daisy. He adored the woman, but she was a little scary on the best of days.
And her sister having a broken heart was not the best of days.
Even Cassidy was giving his wife a wary look.
“See, Emma likes my penis-on-the-Empire-State-Building idea,” Riley said triumphantly, reaching for her third sandwich.
“Actually I don’t,” Emma murmured. “I mean, I kind of do, but Daisy won’t.”
She was speaking to Riley, but her gaze was locked on Lincoln’s, and he forced himself to hold her eyes.
“What would Daisy want?” he asked.
She said nothing.
“Please,” he said, his voice breaking just a little. “Help me.”
She smiled. “Depends, Mathis. How foolish are you willing to get for this woman?”
Lincoln felt a surge of hope, the first since Daisy had walked out of his apartment weeks earlier. “For her? All the way.”
Emma’s grin got wider. “I’ve got just the thing.”
Chapter 35
Daisy stepped out onto the porch of the Montauk rental home and inhaled the salty beach air before taking a sip of her coffee.
Emma had been right to suggest Daisy take a weekend away before starting her new job. An escape to the Hamptons had sounded like just the thing to ease the constant jitter of nerves about starting a new job in a new field in a new city.
She’d even held out hope that it might ease the ache in her chest.
Daisy had gotten in yesterday afternoon, and though the nervous jittering had subsided somewhat, the lonely ache did not.
Maybe she should get a dog.
No, not a dog. A dog would make her think of Kiwi. A cat, then. A cat she could call Wallflower…
She let out a sharp breath, her head dipping in defeat as she closed her eyes and took another long deep breath.
This has to stop. You have to stop letting every little thing come back to him.
When she lifted her head again, she felt calmer, although happier? Not so much. Was there happiness without Lincoln?
Objectively, she supposed so. Women got through breakups all the time. Heck, Daisy herself had ended a marriage.
Yet somehow, despite all the hurt Gary had caused her, her divorce hadn’t scarred like this. She was deathly afraid that her time with Lincoln had left her irreversibly damaged.
Not that she’d change it. She wouldn’t change one single thing about it. It was too precious to her.
Well, except for the end. If she could do that all over again, there’d be no end. And maybe he’d be here with her, drinking the too-sweet coffee they both preferred, and she could put a little nautical bow in Kiwi’s fur, and…
Daisy’s mug paused halfway to her face as she swore she heard the first strains of Britney Spears’s “Oops!…I Did It Again.”
She shook her head and took a sip of coffee. Yeah, she really had to get the man out of her head.
The sound didn’t stop. In fact, the song grew louder, Britney in her prime, coming through faint and poppy.
Before she could figure out the source, something soft and wet flicked against her ankle, bare between her slipper and sweatpants. Daisy yelped and jumped back, looking down to see a wagging white ball of fluff.
Now she was really losing it.
“Kiwi?” she asked, setting her mug on the railing with a shaking hand and bending to pick up the tiny dog. It couldn’t be Kiwi. It was a look-alike…
But then the dog looked up at her, and there was no mistaking the familiar face.
Daisy let out a scoff, scooping up the dog as she stood. Surely Lincoln hadn’t sent his dog to do his dirty work…
Then she saw him.
He stood several feet away from the railing, iPhone held defiantly over his head, Britney Spears blaring from the tiny speaker.
She let out a little laugh as her hand came to cover her mouth, her eyes watering.
Lincoln.
He was here.
Her hand dropped. “Are you Say Anything–ing me right now?” she called out.
He smiled, but his arm didn’t move. “Apparently,” he called over Britney. “Emma tells me it’s a thing. Joan Cusack.”
“John Cusack,” Daisy corrected with a laugh. “And yeah. Yeah, it’s a thing.”
Lincoln’s smile grew wider, but he didn’t move. Not to walk toward her, not to stop his modern-day boom-box-over-the-head move.
She understood then. Understood that he was giving her the choice. He’d come here to say something, but he wouldn’t unless she was willing to listen.
Lincoln lifted his eyebrows in question, and she gave a jerky nod, even as her heart pounded.
Slowly his arm came down to his side, his thumb moving across the screen to silence Britney before he shoved his phone into his back pocket.
He began walking toward her.
Daisy clutched the dog closer, only to realize she was practically crushing the little creature. She set down Kiwi, who promptly went to investigate one of the ugly potted flowers on the rented home’s porch.
Lincoln slowly came up the three steps from the beach to the porch, and her heart beat faster.
He looked wonderful. Jeans and a black sweatshirt, his hair damp and curling, his eyes blue and intense.
She wanted to go to him, but her feet wouldn’t move, so she stayed, waiting until he stopped just inches from her.
“You really liked that sappy shit?” he asked, his voice gravelly.
“Depends,” she said with a tremulous smile. “On the motivation behind it.”
He stepped closer and lifted a hand to her face, his touch gentle as his fingertips traced her cheekbone, then skipped up to her hairline. “How about we start with something simple. I was an idiot, and I’m sorry.”
“You weren’t an idiot,” she whispered. “You were—you are—a man who’s lost someone and is trying to figure it out.”
He nodded, his eyes locked on her mouth before moving up to her eyes. “I was still an idiot. And I’m still sorry.”
“I know,” she whispered. “But Lincoln, I’m not angry at you. I was never angry at you. I understand that you’ll need time, and when you’re ready you’ll find someone wonderful—”
“I don’t want someone wonderful, I want you,” he interrupted.
She lifted her eyebrows, and he closed his eyes, laughing sheepishly as he realized what he’d said. “Damn it. That’s not what I meant.”
“Not so smooth today, I see,” she teased. “Not like with the other girls.”
“No,” he said gruffly. “No, because the other girls don’t matter like you do, Daisy.”
“Lincoln—”
He tilted her head back. “You may have noticed I have a weird habit of calling everyone love. But never you. I never called you that. You were always Daisy or Wallflower.”
Li
ncoln took a deep breath. “I think…I think I didn’t call you love in the dismissive way I did everyone else because I knew if I ever said it to you, it would come true. That you would be my love, and I would love you, Daisy. I didn’t want that. I couldn’t risk it. So I never said it. But damn it Daisy, it ended up not mattering. I fell in love with you anyway. Somewhere between New York and Charlotte and back to New York again, I fell so hard for my Wallflower.”
She laughed and wiped at her tears. “I thought we agreed not to call me that.”
His lips brushed her cheek, capturing the tear. “How about I call you something else? Love.”
Her eyes closed, and her heart soared. “Bet you say that to all the girls.”
“Not anymore,” he whispered, his mouth brushing over hers. “Only you, Daisy. You are my love.”
She leaned back and forced herself to ask the hard question. “What about Katie?”
He didn’t flinch. Didn’t wince. “Katie’s gone. And she and I have an understanding.”
Daisy didn’t ask how he had an understanding with a dead woman. The conviction in his voice had her breath catching, daring to hope, that maybe, just maybe…
Then reality settled in, and she remembered how he’d freaked out the second Katie’s shadow had popped up.
Daisy stepped back, and his hands fell to his sides, his eyes closing as his head tipped back in defeat.
“I can’t,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, but I can’t put myself out there again and risk that you’ll freak out on me with every anniversary of Katie’s birthday, or the accident, or her death. I know that sounds cruel, but—”
“It’s not cruel. I mean, that won’t happen, but it’s fair that you fear I would after the way I’ve treated you,” he said, opening his eyes and looking at her. “It’s what I expected.”
The agony in his blue eyes ripped through her.
“I’ll go,” he whispered. “But Daisy, if I can ask a favor, as a friend…”
She nodded, her heart squeezing at the thought that she might really let him go. “Anything.”
“Tell me you love me.”
Daisy gasped in pain, and his gaze was tortured but steady as he looked at her.
“Lincoln—”
“I know you love me,” he said, his voice desperate. “Or at least you did before I screwed it up. Let me have the words just once, Daisy. Lie to me if you have to, but give me something to replay when I’m old and all alone and loving you so much it hurts—”
Daisy let out a strangled sob as she launched herself at him, arms going around him as she buried her face in his neck. “I love you,” she whispered. “I love you so much.”
Lincoln froze in shock, a second before his arms came around her and he shuddered. “It’s better than I thought it would be.”
They held each other for long minutes, and even Kiwi had the sense to curl up on the mat by the back door and leave them alone as his hands stroked up and down Daisy’s back.
“I don’t know if I can let you go,” he said with a broken laugh. “I thought I could, and I meant to, but—”
Daisy pulled back slightly and dragged his mouth down to hers, pouring her heart and soul into the kiss. His hands lifted to her head, deepening the kiss before breaking away and tilting her face up to his.
“Give me one more chance. Just one more chance, love. My love.”
She looked up at him and realized that a lifetime of risks with him would be infinitely more fulfilling than a safe lifetime without him.
“Let’s do it,” she whispered.
His eyes flashed with hope. “Do what?”
“All of it. Put our hearts on the line, trust the other that it’ll be worth it.”
“It’s already been worth it,” he said quietly, touching his lips to hers. “But I’m greedy. I still want.”
“What do you want?” she asked, wrapping her arms around his waist and smiling up at him.
He smiled back, resting his forehead on hers. “You, Daisy. I want someone like you.”
Epilogue
THREE YEARS LATER
Daisy was browning the meat for Taco Tuesday, New York style, when she heard the familiar song. She laughed at the unexpected moment, and turned to see her husband leaning in the doorway, iPhone in hand.
“Seriously? You know that song gets stuck in our heads for days after.”
“Dance for me, Mathis,” he said, speaking up to be heard over Britney.
“What do you mean dance for you? You already talked me into making that monstrosity our wedding song. How about we compromise. I’ll dance with you.”
“Nuh-uh,” he said. “I want this to be like the first time we heard our song.”
“It is not our song,” she grumbled.
“It is too. Ever since the night of Cassidy and Emma’s wedding when you gave one hell of a striptease.”
“How would you know?” she asked. “Seeing as you turned your back and all.”
“You’re right, I did,” he said with a grin. “Which is why I deserve a do-over.”
“How about you get your do-over when I’m not feeling so massively huge.”
“Nope, now.”
She looked over at the insistent expression on his face. Lincoln was as easygoing as ever, but every now and then he had these commanding, stubborn streaks and…
“Fine,” she said, flicking off the burner. “If you’re sure you want to do this when I should be cooking dinner.”
His gaze raked over her body. “Oh I’m sure. I’m definitely sure.”
She bit her lip, because even with the odd circumstances, the way he looked at her made her hot, now and always. Such was life being married to Lincoln Mathis.
“Turn it up,” she said quietly.
He did, and she began to sway a little from side to side, feeling foolish, but also free. Her fingers lifted to the top of her blouse, holding his gaze as she flicked one button. Then another.
“Are you sure?” she said, her hand faltering. “I’m sort of—”
“I’m sure.”
Daisy undid another button. Then another. Until her blouse was open, and his eyes locked adoringly on her as she got bolder with her dance, giving a little more sway and shake, popping her hip to one side, then the other, taking a step nearer—
Daisy froze, her eyes going wide.
Lincoln was standing up straight, his gaze sharpening in a second. “What is it?” He came to her. “Daisy, damn it, what is it?”
She looked up at him in wonder as her hand came to her stomach. “I think my water just broke.”
SEVEN HOURS LATER
“He’s so beautiful,” Penelope said, as she brushed a finger over Christian Daniel Mathis’s newborn cheek.
“So is she,” Cole said, cradling a tiny Adelaide Katherine Mathis in his arms.
“Twins,” Penelope whispered. “I mean, I know we knew, but seeing them together—”
Lincoln cleared his throat. “You know that we’re the parents, right?”
“I do,” Penelope said, still gazing at the infant. “But there’s an army outside waiting their turn, so I’m soaking up my moment with the babies for as long as I can, and you just keep that ever-babbling trap shut, Lincoln.”
Lincoln glanced over at the window that separated Daisy’s room from the waiting area. Sure enough, there was every single one of their friends—including new friends from Daisy’s wedding planning job—standing not so patiently, waiting for their chance to pay their respects to Lincoln and Daisy’s newborns.
“I’m impressed everyone’s not crowded in here,” Daisy said in a tired but happy voice. He looked back at his wife of a little more than a year and reached for her hand, his heart soaring with love the way it did every time he looked at her, talked to her, or just thought of her.
“I paid Cassidy to keep them at bay. I love this weird Stiletto/Oxford family of ours to death, but I’m not entirely convinced that they won’t steal our children.”
Even as he
said it, Penelope was easing toward the door, Christian in hands.
“Tiny,” Cole said indulgently to his wife.
“Right,” she said with a sigh, coming back to the bed, and handing Lincoln’s son over to him. “Grace and Jake are next, but you parents can have a few minutes before they come in here.”
Penelope went on her toes and pecked his cheek. “You’re my favorite. And I’m so happy for you.”
He smiled at her, watching as she carefully hugged the exhausted Daisy.
Cole eased Adelaide into her mother’s arms, giving Lincoln a clap on the shoulder as he headed out. “Sam found us some cigars to celebrate man style. If you’re up for it.”
Lincoln nodded distractedly. He’d celebrate with the guys, just like he had when Grace and Jake’s son was born, and Sam’s second daughter. Jackson and Mollie were due in a couple months, and he’d celebrate that too.
But right now was about him. And Daisy. And their children.
Right now was about his beautiful family.
The tiny infant let out a little sigh, settling into his arms, and he looked up in wonder at Daisy, who was watching Adelaide with the same adoration.
Someone tapped impatiently on the window. Riley, he was betting. He ignored it, moving closer to the side of the bed and bending down to kiss his wife.
She kissed him back, with perhaps a bit more heat than a hospital room called for, and he thought he heard a whoop and Get a room from somewhere.
“I love you,” she whispered.
“I love you back.”
“I can’t believe we have babies,” she said, reaching out a finger and stroking Christian’s head. “I’ve wanted a family so much for so long, and now you’re here, everything’s so perfect, and I don’t know what to do with myself.”
He eased his son to one arm, reached out the other to wipe the happy tear from her cheek. “You do the only thing you can do, love. You get used to it. Because we’re not done yet. We’re going to have a couple more of these little critters, we’re going to raise the hell out of them, and they’re going to raise the hell out of their children, and someday we’ll be old and gray sitting on the porch listening to Britney—”
