“I didn’t think they’d be able to do anything. Because he hasn’t really done anything yet. Aside from thinking that I’m the one. Like, his soulmate or something.”
My mother didn’t respond right away; instead, she finally took that sip of her coffee and then took her time putting her cup back down. I had talked my way into some sort of trap, I knew it—I just didn’t know what yet. She had a way of doing this. She was a pro, really, when it came to this sort of thing, and though we’d never talked about it, I knew this was one of the main reasons why she and my father had gotten divorced.
“Exactly,” she finally said. “He hasn’t done anything yet. You just said so yourself. So there’s no reason for you to move. If he hasn’t done anything that you can report to the police, then it makes absolutely no sense for you to uproot your whole life like this. How long has it been going on for?”
“Five weeks? Maybe a little more than that.”
She shook her head. “Come on, Daisy. It sounds to me like you’re making a big deal out of nothing. And wanting to uproot your entire life because of it is just foolish. Now, if it were because you were thinking about going back to school or something along those lines, I would be far more receptive. But this whole thing just sounds like a bunch of nonsense.”
I took another sip of my drink, the sweetness hurting my teeth. Before she’d become a professor, my mother had had her own private practice. Many times, I had wondered if she’d ever even think of saying to those clients of hers the same things she’d said to me. Like, someone had just laid bare their soul to her, and she’d just shake her head and say it was nothing more than a bunch of nonsense. I knew for a fact she’d never dream of saying anything like that to them—it still perplexed me why she seemed to think it was okay when it was me.
“I don’t know why I even bother to tell you these things,” I said. “You’re probably the least supportive person in the world.”
“Daisy.” She had that tone that suggested I was being no better than a petulant toddler. “This is not a matter of supporting you or not; this is a matter of indulging these fantasies of yours—”
I choked back a laugh. “Fantasies? I don’t know who you think I am, Mom, but I’m not fantasizing about having a stalker! I’m not making this up!”
The girl a few tables over had put down her pen and was making no attempt now to hide the fact that she was eavesdropping, as was every other table within earshot. But I didn’t care. My mother had a way of bringing out this side in me.
“I shouldn’t have even brought this up. Just forget about the whole thing,” I said. I stood up. “I actually have to get going.”
“You’re being dramatic,” my mother said in a slightly sing-song voice. She shrugged. “But that shouldn’t really be much of a surprise, should it? I was hoping that we’d be able to sit down and have a nice chat today, and you’d tell me that you’d decided to actually do something with your life, instead of wasting it away in some office, dreaming up some scenario where you have a stalker.”
“Did belittling work on your other clients?” I asked. “Because it’s really not working here.”
I left before she could say anything else. I tried not to feel too upset; so far as interactions with my mother went, that certainly wasn’t the worst, but I resented the idea that she thought this whole thing with Noah was some sort of fantasy. Clearly, he was mentally unbalanced, and of all people, shouldn’t she have been able to see that? But when it came to me, she seemed unwilling, for whatever reason.
Chapter Seven
Ian
That Monday, Jonathan and I were both in the office early, and I could tell he was anxiously awaiting Daisy’s arrival. He was dressed a little spiffier than normal, too, and I thought that maybe I caught a whiff of some sort of cologne.
“So what the hell is wrong with you?” I asked with a grin. It was meant to be a joke, but Jonathan got this crestfallen look on his face. “I’m kidding, you know,” I said.
But he was shaking his head. “No, no, you’re absolutely right. There is something wrong with me.”
“What? I know you like Daisy. That much is very obvious. You don’t need to be skulking around here, pretending like you don’t.”
“It’s not that,” he said. “Yeah, I do like her—a lot
. And I thought that if she was working here, it would just be . . . easier, I guess.”
“What would be easier?”
“Talking to her. Asking her out.”
“So you want to date one of the employees. Isn’t there a rule against that?”
“There certainly isn’t one about sleeping with the employees.”
“But you want more than that.”
“Well, yeah, of course I do. She’s an amazing person. I’m attracted to her, but it’s more than just wanting to sleep with her. I want to get to know her better. Spend time with her.”
“Long walks on the beach and candle-lit dinners?” Fucking hell, excuse me while I go barf.
But Jonathan was smiling like a fool, no doubt imagining these long walks on the beach and candle-lit dinners. “Yeah,” he said. “I would love that. I want to do all that with her. She deserves to be treated right. Especially after all this shit with the stalker.”