The Cinderella Deal - Jennifer Crusie [27]
“But …” Julia prompted.
“But I felt really good with him,” Daisy finished. “I felt safe. And he’s not exactly like my father. He never made me feel guilty or beholden or—well, okay, he did make me feel clueless, but not on purpose. Even though we were surrounded by all those people and telling that big story, I felt safe.” She met Julia’s eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt safe, not since I caught on that my mother’s grip on reality wasn’t a good one. And I must have been about four, so it’s been a while.”
Julia scrunched farther down in Daisy’s old flowered armchair, staring into space as she thought. “You’re right about Linc, but I think that’s what I didn’t like about him when I was with him. No challenge, no excitement. As long as Linc is around, nothing goes wrong.”
“Yeah.” Daisy thought about riding through the night beside Linc in his awful car, wrapped in darkness and safety. “I loved that.”
“Just that?”
Well, no. There was his body. Daisy stood up and went to the kitchen to distract herself. “Just that. Do you want some coffee?”
“I’d rather have the truth.”
Daisy exhaled loudly and turned back to her. “Okay, it was not just that. I was tempted by his body. Really, really tempted. I’m still dreaming about him. But that body is attached to a mind that thinks I’m a nightmare, and I couldn’t stand the constant disapproval even if he wanted to take me to Prescott, which he doesn’t, since he won’t even talk to me in the hall, and now he’s gone, so it’s not an issue, so do you want coffee?” She blinked hard and realized there were tears coming, so she turned and went to the kitchen without waiting for Julia’s answer.
It was just as well. Julia went for the jugular. “Would you have gone to Prescott if he’d asked?”
Daisy took a coffee cup down from the shelf and shut the cabinet door carefully. “I don’t know. Maybe.” She turned and waved her hand at her apartment. “This isn’t working for me. I need to reinvent myself if I’m going to grow as an artist. I can’t hold on to the past, and I can’t keep doing the same things. But it’s so hard here, always scrambling for money and trying to convince myself I’m good even though nobody else thinks so—”
“I think so.”
“—and now even just painting is hard.” Daisy slumped against the counter and tried to put into words the realization that had been growing in the back of her mind during the past year. “I’m stuck in the old me, and I don’t know how to get out. I just know the old me isn’t the real me anymore.”
“And Prescott would have made you reinvent yourself.” Julia nodded. “Well, sure, but it would have made you reinvent yourself into a lie.”
“Maybe not.” Daisy closed her eyes and pictured herself in Prescott in that little Victorian house, something that was pretty easy since she’d been doing it ever since she and Chickie had first driven down Tacoma Street. “The college is conservative, but the town isn’t. There was an art gallery. And a house, a really, really darling house, not an apartment. Maybe I could have reinvented myself into something real there.” The coffeemaker sputtered, and Prescott in the spring vanished back into her apartment: cluttered, stale, and everything her life was that she didn’t want it to be. “But it wouldn’t have worked, and it’s probably just a cop-out anyway.”
“Maybe not,” Julia said. “Linc’s a good guy. Maybe it would have worked.”
“Not in a million years,” Daisy said. “Now, do you want coffee or not?”
Julia took the coffee and tried to keep the conversation about Linc going, but Daisy had had enough. She stonewalled until Julia gave up in exasperation and left, which was no improvement since that gave Daisy more time to think about Prescott and Linc, which made her breathe a little faster, which made her angry. Stop it, she told herself. Especially stop thinking about how nice and solid he was with his arms around you and how gorgeous he looks with his shirt off. He’s probably sleeping with Little Gertrude by now, the incestuous