“It doesn’t sound stupid,” Carl said. “So what happened?”
“What happened is the guy—Ian—suddenly told me he couldn’t see me anymore. It made no sense because we’d only just gotten back together, and things were great, and then out of the blue, he says this. Something didn’t seem right about it, but I couldn’t figure out what it was. And then this other guy that I’m kind of friendly with who is a client of Ian’s, he’s interested in me, I guess. And his father basically told Ian to back off so his son could have a chance.”
“Really,” Carl said. “That must’ve been a surprise to you.”
“It was. I mean, I don’t know exactly how old he is, but I think he’s closer to Ian’s age, so that makes him in his early thirties. And to have your father getting involved like that seems sort of . . . weird.”
“Intrusive.”
“Exactly.”
“Desire is an interesting thing,” Carl said. “It’s closely intertwined with both pleasure and pain, and unchecked desire can morph into craving, into obsession. I think most people would say they want to be desired, but then you also run the risk of it going too far, which can be problematic.”
“Is that what this is all about?” I asked. “Desire?”
“Desire is the driving force behind a lot of things, not just romantic ones. I think what you need to do is figure out what it is that you desire. It seems you’ve been a rather passive participant in a lot of what has happened so far. My best advice would be to think about what it is that you, Daisy, really want.”
I nodded. The way he put it, it sounded so simple, but the truth of it was, I had no idea what I wanted.
The next morning, I got up and checked my email, hoping for some response to any of the resumes that I’d sent out. Nothing. I reread the article that I’d written and did a little editing while I drank my coffee. I was about to start sending out more resumes when the doorbell buzzed. I went over to the intercom.
“Hello?” I said, trying not to sound wary. I really hoped it wasn’t Noah.
“Daisy,” a male voice said. “Hey. It’s Jonathan. Can I come in?”
“Jonathan—hey. Sure. Hold on.” I went out and opened the main door and let him in. He followed me into my apartment.
“I’ve missed seeing you around the office,” he said. “How’s it been going?”
“It’s been all right. Still on the hunt for a job.”
“Yeah? That sucks. I know the market’s pretty tough out there right now.”
“Something will work out. I’ve been sending out resumes and stuff. I’ve got a little bit of money saved to tide me over.”
Jonathan nodded. “Good. I’m glad to hear that. And Ben told me about what went down with Noah, so you probably won’t have to move now, right?”
“I don’t think so,” I said. “Unless of course I decide to uproot my life and go out to California or something. Maybe Seattle.”
“Really?” he asked. “You’re thinking about doing that?”
I shrugged. “I’m not sure—but maybe a change would be good? Maybe it’d be nice to see another part of the country. There’s not really anything holding me here anymore.”
He rubbed his palms together and took a deep breath. “Look, Daisy,” he said. “I should’ve been up front with you about this from the very beginning. I like you. I like you a lot. Not in just a friend way. I mean, I think you’re a great friend, but I’ve been interested in you as more than just a friend for . . . well, it’s been a while.” I stared at him as his words started to sink in. Then I burst out laughing. Probably not the response that he was hoping for.
“I’m sorry,” I said, in between fits of laughter. “I’m not laughing at you. I’m just . . . this whole thing . . . I just don’t even know what to think.”
“It was messed up the way Ian’s been treating you,” he said. “But I . . . I did something.”
I stopped laughing. “You did something? What do you mean?”
“That whole thing with Martin Harris? That was me.”
“What do you mean, that was you? You were the one who let it get out that whole thing was happening?”
“Yes.” He was trying not to smile. He looked at me as though he was expecting me to go over and give him a high five. “I know it probably doesn’t seem like much, but it’s something.”
I stared at him. “Why would you do that?” I asked.