Daisies & Devin

by Kelsey Kingsley

  ♪

  The hours leading up to their arrival were torturous. Every time a customer walked in, my head whipped toward the door, thinking Mom and Richard might’ve decided to come early. Several times, Brooke gave me a hard but sympathetic look, telling me to relax.

  But I couldn’t relax.

  When Devin walked through the door sometime around three, still wearing his stained jeans and dust-covered shirt, he leaned over the counter to kiss me.

  “How you holding up?” he asked, hoisting his duffel bag onto his shoulder.

  “Uh, I’m somewhere between wanting to cry and wanting to throw up,” I admitted with a weak smile and he kissed me again.

  “So, about expected,” he said, winking before bolting for the stairs to get changed.

  The afternoon crowd kept us busy. Brooke and I manned the counter while Devin kept himself occupied with reading, tuning his guitar and helping out where he could. And, finally, five o’clock rolled around and my phone chimed with a text message.

  It was Mom

  After reading the announcement that they would be there in less than ten minutes, I shooed Brooke out of the shop and bolted up to my office to touch-up my lipstick and mascara. Devin followed me up and he watched while I pulled my hair down from its bun and brushed it out with my fingers.

  “Maybe I should have gotten a haircut,” I fussed, untangling a knot.

  He laughed. “Seriously?” he said, pushing his own hair away from his eyes. “You’re fine.”

  Then I pinched my eyes shut and shook my head. My hands covered my face, and I groaned. “No,” I said, dropping my arms to my sides and turning to him. “God, I’m just so—”

  “Kylie,” he said, taking my hands in his. “I know. It’s fine.” He kissed my forehead, and the door jingled from downstairs. “You ready?”

  “Oh God,” I exhaled and tipped my forehead to his chest. “Oh God, okay, drag me out of here.”

  With his hands on my shoulders, he steered me toward the staircase and I went down first, not giving myself the option to turn around. I didn’t see her immediately, my view was obstructed by the wall at the bottom of the stairs, but when I turned the corner, there they were.

  Immediately, I was clouded by the reality that my parents had never stood together in the way this man held an arm around her waist. Her left hand, absent of all signs of jewelry from my father, pressed to his chest, and they both wore a similar expression of bewilderment as they looked around the shop.

  My father loved my mother, I told myself, and she loved him. I knew that, but when this strange man pressed his lips to my mother’s temple, I couldn’t let go of the agonizing fact that I couldn’t recall my father ever showing his love for her. Not once.

  I studied the man. Tall. Handsome, in a silver fox kind of way. He was younger than her, I guessed, but not by much. He wore a nice pair of tailored jeans, and while I shamed myself for checking him out, they hugged his body in all the right places. A perfect fit really, and it was those jeans that brought me to eye other things—his shoes, his shirt, his platinum watch.

  Devin’s hand was on my back, gently pushing me forward. I walked over one of the looser floorboards, and it creaked. The sound seemed to echo throughout the shop as I winced, knowing my cover had been blown. My mother whirled around on her heel.

  “Kylie!” she exclaimed with excited glee, as she rushed toward me with outstretched arms.

  Her arms were around me, squeezing hard. “Oh God, Kylie … this place is amazing!” I realized she was crying, and holy crap, so was I. “It’s gotten so much more wonderful since I was last here. I’m so proud of you.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” I said, weepy against her ear.

  I imagined Devin and the new guy standing there, looking to each other and to us with that awkward silence surrounding them, and I reluctantly stepped back, taking her in.

  “You look great,” she said, mirroring my thoughts, as though we hadn’t seen each other recently. She touched my hair and turned to the handsome man, “Richard, I told you about Kylie’s hair, right?”

  “It’s even prettier in person,” he said with a fond smile, and then with embarrassed realization that he hadn’t yet introduced himself, he stepped forward with a hand outstretched. “O-oh, Kylie, I’m Richard. It’s so wonderful to finally meet you. Grace—your mom, she’s told me so much about you.”

  I accepted his hand and it engulfed mine as we shook. His grip was warm, sturdy, and sure with a confidence I wished I had in the moment. “It’s … it’s nice to meet you too, Richard.” I wanted to say that I didn’t know much about him, that my mom had withheld so much from me over the months. But instead, I looked up to my rock, and said, “This is my boyfriend, Dev—”

  “Oh God, of course! Devin!” Mom reached up with outstretched arms and Devin engulfed her waist with his own.

  “Hey Mrs.—” And he stopped himself, eyes widening with apology toward Richard.

  “Just Grace, Dev. How many times do I have to tell you that?” she asked, pushing away from him with a gentle pat against his arm. Completely unfazed by the mention of her former self. “Richard, this is Devin.”

  The way she said it—this is Devin—made me narrow my eyes curiously. Like she was implying something I wasn’t quite grasping and I took a step back, wrapping my arm around Devin’s.

  Richard smiled. “Ah, right, of course.” He shook Devin’s hand affirmatively, beaming with excitement. “Grace tells me you’re quite the musician.”

  “Uh, well, I like to think so,” Dev replied, pulling his arm from my grasp to wrap it around my waist.

  “Don’t listen to him,” I quickly threw in. “He has no idea how amazing he is.”

  Richard responded with a kind smile, never taking his eyes off Dev. “The good ones never do.”

  “We’re just waiting for someone to wander into the shop and offer him a deal,” I said, grinning with pride and hope.

  “She’s supposed to say that,” Devin threw in, apologizing for me.

  “That might be true,” Richard said with a warm chuckle. He nodded slowly to himself. “In any case, I’m looking forward to hearing you play. I’m a bit of a music lover myself.”

  “So!” Mom said, clapping her hands, “Now that the introductions are out of the way, I was thinking we could go grab some dinner before the show. What do you kids think? What’s good around here?”

  “Um …” I felt awkward and strange. “The shop is still open, Mom.”

  Her face fell. Disappointment and hurt overshadowing her unfamiliar, pretty features. “Oh … Right, I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. Maybe after the—"

  “You know,” Devin said slyly, nudging me in the side with his knuckles, “you could make an exception and close for the next couple of hours until I go on.”

  I thought about it and caught the encouragement in his gaze, and I nodded. “Yeah, you know what? That’s a good idea. I can do that.”

  And so, I left a note on the door and locked it behind us. Devin took my hand and Richard took Mom’s. I caught myself staring at his thumb, stroking the outside of her pointer finger in slow, smooth lines. She turned to look up at him, and then she tipped her lips toward his.

  I turned away before he could bow his head, before his mouth could touch hers for the briefest of moments. But I heard it, and Devin slowed his gait, holding me back as Mom and Richard walked ahead.

  “How are you doing?” he asked, always checking up on me.

  I opened my mouth, startled by the strength of my emotion. I composed myself by clearing my throat and I shook my head. “I don’t know,” I replied honestly.

  “Well, I think you’re doing great, and I’m proud of you,” he said encouragingly, and I squeezed my hand around his, wishing I could be prouder of myself.

  ♪

  “How long have you lived here?” Richard asked, sitting down and draping a paper napkin across his lap.

  “Me, only a few years, but Kylie’s been
here for about ten years now,” Dev said, pulling out my chair before sitting himself.

  “Well, I love it,” Richard said with a nod. “A lot nicer than the city—that’s where I live half the time.”

  “What city?” Devin asked, folding his arms on the table.

  “New York.”

  Devin’s interest piqued. “You live in New York City?”

  “Has Grace told you guys anything about me?” Richard asked with a gentle chuckle, glancing at my mother.

  She blushed, wrapping her arm around his and leaning into his shoulder. “I guess I might’ve been too distracted telling them how wonderful you are.”

  The conversation was interrupted by the waiter, and after Devin insisted they were the best thing they served, burgers were ordered around the table.

  “Next time we get together, you two should come out to the city,” Richard mentioned with a smile. “I’ll take you to the best pizza place I know, and are you a fan of cheesecake?”

  I found myself returning the smile. “There’s not much that Devin won’t eat,” I said, nudging him with my elbow.

  “That’s true,” he conceded.

  Our table chatter continued over burgers and glasses of iced tea. I found myself relaxing, laughing and enjoying the company of Richard, this mysterious man with his arm around my mother’s shoulders. It was hard not to, when his laugh felt like a hug. When my mom’s eyes sparkled as she looked at him.

  But, in between all the laughs and animated conversation, I couldn’t help staring out the window, as I felt the past I held onto slipping through my fingers.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Devin

  Sensing she needed it, I concluded the night with Kylie’s favorite song. I surprised her by plucking a daisy from my guitar case, jumping from the stage to hand it to her. She smiled up at me as the small crowd applauded, and fucking hell, I wanted to kiss her.

  I needed to kiss her.

  I grabbed her hand and pulled her up to me. I held her against my body as I pushed my mouth to hers, and when I laid my hand against her cheek, I felt the wetness of her tears.

  “Hey,” I said, pulling back, oblivious to everybody around us. “Hey, Kylie, what’s up?”

  She shook her head, covering her eyes with her hand. “I’m fine, really.”

  “Baby, you’re not fine,” I said, catching another tear.

  Noticing her daughter’s tears, Grace stood up and rounded to stand next to us. “Kylie, what’s the matter?”

  “Nothing,” she said, forcing a laugh as she wiped her face. “I think I’m just hormonal or something.”

  Grace narrowed her eyes skeptically. “Are you preg—”

  Before she could finish her sentence, Kylie shook her head erratically. “Come on, Mom. You know I’m on the pill. No, I’m fine. I just … I just need a second. I’ll be right back.” With that, she stepped away from us and ran toward the stairs.

  Richard came to stand with us as I watched her go, and reluctantly I turned to them, unsure of how long I’d be able to listen to them talk before I couldn’t take it any longer.

  “Is Kylie okay?” Richard asked.

  “She says she’s fine,” Grace replied. “I’ll check on her in a few minutes, but first—"

  “I should probably—” I began, but Grace squeezed my arm.

  “Devin, I just have to tell you, that show was absolutely phenomenal, and that last song!” She pressed her hands to her mouth. “That last song …” She gently wiped a finger under her eye, catching a tear that had yet to fall. “Devin, that last song is beautiful.”

  She knew what it was about. She knew the inspiration.

  That summer. That day. The daisies.

  Kylie.

  She might’ve been the only other person that knew.

  “Thank you,” I said, nodding. I caught a glimpse of the woman she used to be. The sullen-faced, broken woman, grieving the husband she had loved and lost.

  Richard clapped a hand on my shoulder. “Devin, I would like to discuss some business with you,” he said, and I cocked my head, thoughts of Kylie fading only slightly from my mind.

  “Business?”

  “Remember what Kylie said, about someone walking in and offering you a deal?” He nodded once and dug into his pocket for his wallet. He pulled out a business card and handed it to me. “Well, I’m that someone.”

  Richard Brewer. Manager/Producer.

  The card began to shake in my hand and I damn near dropped the thing trying to get my shit together.

  Richard laughed, clapping a hand against my back. “I take it Grace didn’t tell you what I do.”

  I shook my head, swallowing hard around my tongue and excitement and panic. “Uh, nope. She neglected to divulge that little detail.”

  “Hey, I said he worked in management, didn’t I?” Grace teased as she gripped my arm. “Kylie has some clips of you playing on her website. I showed them to Richard, and suddenly, he had interests other than just meeting my daughter and her boyfriend,” she said, reaching out to touch him affectionately on the wrist. “We wanted to surprise you.”

  Was it possible for so much to change in such a short period of time? Was that how these things always happened? Sharp and quick?

  I blinked down at the card, hardly able to believe that this moment was happening for me. That some record producing hot shot had actually walked into the place and wanted to do business with me. Just the way Kylie said it would happen.

  “I really think you have what it takes to make this a career, Devin,” Richard was saying, as I kept staring at the glossy, raised letters of that card. “You have an incredible amount of talent and I think that, with the right management and band to back you up, you could really be a star,” he continued, and I wondered how long I could keep standing before I short-circuited and passed out. “We can start working right away and get you in the studio in a few months’ time. What do you think?”

  My insides had churned to a liquified state and I felt the bile rising in my throat. I held a fist to my mouth and, goddammit, the tears pricked at my eyes. I coughed, attempting to clear the lump that kept rising with my burger from dinner, and I looked up to see Kylie coming back down the stairs.

  She caught sight of me and she came right over. I saw the tear-stains striping her face, and I would talk to her about that later. But in that moment, all I could do was throw my arms around her and pick her up, acting like a total idiot in front of this guy that wanted to change my life.

  And, with her in my arms, there was no bile in my throat. There was no fear, no concern. There was just excitement, and the jittering joy of dreams coming true.

  The best, the absolute best one, always being her.

  “Devin?” With her arms looped around my neck, she held herself away, looking into my eyes. “What’s—” I handed her the card, and she stared at it for three seconds before looking back up at me, her jaw hanging open. “Oh my God,” she whispered, and then, “Oh my God!”

  Grace and Richard had sat down, smiling in the way that older people do when watching youngsters, happy and in love. Kylie hugged me tighter, burying her face in my neck, and I buried mine in hers, calming myself with the beat of her heart and the scent of her hair.

  “I told you it would happen,” she said, lips moving against my skin. “Oh my God, I fucking told you, Devin.”

  I nodded. “You told me.”

  “I love you,” she whispered against my skin, and I squeezed her tighter.

  “God, I love you too,” I said back. “So fucking much.”

  And with a quick kiss against her neck, I let her go. I had to, even though letting go of Kylie felt like letting go of my courage. With a deep breath, I looked down at Richard. “Sorry. Okay … okay, let’s talk.”

  He smiled, shaking his head. “That’s quite all right. Please, sit.”

  PART THREE

  You are not wrong, who deem,

  That my days have been a dream;

  Yet if
hope has flown away,

  In a night, or in a day,

  In a vision, or in none,

  Is it therefore the less gone?

  All that we see or seem,

  Is but a dream within a dream.

  -Edgar Allan Poe, “A Dream Within a Dream”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Devin

  Two weeks after meeting Richard, he had a town car pick us up from our apartment, and he’d instructed the driver to take Kylie and me into New York City.

  Now, I had been in the concrete jungle of hopes and dreams before, but never had I felt like someone in that city. Never had I been driven in a shiny, black car with tinted windows, with pedestrians attempting to catch quick glances through the glass and see who was being driven around.

  I laughed, imagining their disappointment when they saw only me, Devin O’Leary, in his old, worn jeans and crappy t-shirt, and his purple-haired, bombshell girlfriend.

  But then, I remembered the time Kylie and I had spotted an enlarging crowd, surrounding some guy from an MTV reality show. We had asked a nearby fangirl who it was, and goddamn if I could remember the dude’s name now, but there was this small rush of excitement. Of being that close to someone people thought was noteworthy, and I thought, would people feel that way about us right now, in this fucking car?

  “Did he tell you where we’re going?” Kylie finally asked, turning to me, her prismatic blue eyes hidden behind a pair of thrifty sunglasses.

  “Not a fucking clue,” I mumbled, lacing my fingers with hers.

  The leather seat was pleasantly cool under our skin. Sensual. I thought momentarily about sending up the divider between the front and back seats, maybe make out with her a little. Maybe go all the way in the backseat of that fancy car, before arriving at our destination, and I would have, if we hadn’t then pulled up in front of a building with a mirrored front.

  “All right, sir,” the driver said, casually turning to face us. “Mr. Brewer has left me with instructions to send you to the fourth floor. You’re to wait for him there in the lobby.”