Page 82 of Miss Fortune

Caleb

The bubble appeared on my phone screen, disappeared, and finally appeared again before the words, “Safe travels,” came across.

Frowning, I sat back in my office chair. The message was nicer than I deserved after the way I’d treated her Monday morning. That morning caused me many regrets, the biggest being the unfair position I’d put her in. She had no idea she couldn’t go looking for coffee beans in my kitchen without me flipping out. If I felt so guarded about my space, then I needed to be explicit about the boundaries. I couldn’t expect her to abide by expectations she knew nothing about.

I needed to apologize. And going forward, it might be better if we only spent time at her place.

Meanwhile, I truly did have to go out of town this weekend. When a big-name movie director called while filming in Silicon Valley because he needed a prenuptial before marrying his third wife, I flew to him on a Saturday. Even when I could lay odds the man would be divorced within the year.

On Saturday, I spent hours with the man in between a rigorous film shoot schedule. It was after midnight by the time I got home. Although I was tempted to call Daisy then, I refrained and waited until Sunday morning.

She picked up on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Hi.” God, how I’d missed her. Maybe if I pretended everything was normal, we could smooth over my freak-out last week.

“How about I pick up brunch and swing by your place? You in the mood for a surf-and-turf eggs Benedict?”

“I’m selling soaps at a market in Marina Del Rey today.”

She’d mentioned it a few weeks ago, and I’d forgotten. “Do you have plans tonight?” So much for establishing boundaries. Currently I was experiencing Daisy withdrawal and didn’t care if it was a Sunday.

But she definitely cared. “I think it would be better if we didn’t do another Sunday night. I’ve gotta go as I have a few customers. We can talk later.”

“Sure, sounds good.” It did not sound good. In fact, after hanging up the phone, I mapped out my route to Marina Del Rey.

The outdoor market proved easy to find. Parking, however, wasn’t. There was only an hour left until the market closed before I finally found street parking. Once there, I strolled along the booths, searching for a familiar face and picking up the pace once I did.

Jesus, Daisy was beautiful. And clearly in her element, dressed in a bright blue dress with a white flower behind her ear. I was struck by the same feeling I’d had at our first meeting. She resembled a movie star, down to her magnificent smile.

I walked up and waited for her to finish ringing up two ladies who seemed quite thrilled with their purchases.

“Would you recommend honey or lavender to enhance one’s apologetic ability?”

She glanced up, her brow arching at my appearance before she responded, “Ah, for you I’d recommend eucalyptus, and perhaps this mint. Provides clarity.”

I held up the soap to my nose and inhaled the mint scent. It smelled amazing. “I’m sorry about the way I acted on Monday morning.”

She sighed. “I could remind you spending the night on Sunday was your idea.”

“I know it was.” But I’d started to freak out about getting attached, and it then morphed into full-on panic when I’d found her searching my kitchen.

“Did you really have to go out of town for work yesterday?”

The fact she thought I could’ve lied twisted my stomach. “I did. I flew up to Silicon Valley for a client. I didn’t get back until midnight. Again, I’m truly sorry.”

“I believe you are, but more than an apology, I need to understand something. You freaked out Monday morning. Why?”

I was saved from coming up with an answer when more customers came up.

Daisy was charming, genuine, and incredibly enthusiastic about her soaps when the women came up. I envied the way people naturally gravitated toward her warmth. She was kind and patient. She also knew her own worth and wouldn’t settle for an apology from me without an explanation. She deserved one. She deserved the truth.

But was I able to give it to her?

She turned back to me after the customers had paid for their purchases. “I’m just about sold out of all the soaps I brought.”

“Good. I’ll help you pack up.” As we started breaking down the booth, I still wasn’t ready to answer her earlier question. So in order to delay, I asked my own. “What made you choose to make and sell soap, of all things?”

She shrugged. “Honestly, I dig the science behind the recipes. And I enjoy meeting people, so taking them to markets makes me happy. But I might switch it up next month and make candles. I’ve been reading up on it. Or maybe I’ll create lotions. The possibilities are endless.”