The Cinderella Deal - Jennifer Crusie [63]
Linc kicked Evan smartly on the ankle. “Have you got any room at your place, Evan?”
“Ouch,” Evan said, and Julia said, “Would that be too much to ask, Evan, if I stayed with you?”
“What? Oh. No.” Evan took a deep breath. “Absolutely not. My pleasure.”
Linc sighed in relief and looked around to see if Daisy had come back. She hadn’t.
“You know, being married to Daisy has taught you a lot,” Julia said when Evan had gone for their coats. “She couldn’t have done any better herself.”
“Where is she?” Linc looked around the room again. She was definitely gone. Julia said something, but he didn’t hear.
There was mistletoe in the hall. That damn vet, Linc thought, and then stopped, confused. He should be delighted; Daisy finding someone else would get him off the hook permanently with Crawford. Not even Crawford could insist he hold on to a wife who was in love with someone else.
Just not the vet. He wasn’t right for her. She needed someone who could give her a little structure, take care of her. Give her time and room to paint and—
Who are you kidding? he asked himself. The vet was perfect for her. He’d give her all the animals she wanted and would never yell at her because the furniture had holes or because she dressed funny. He should go do the right thing, tell them it was all right, that he’d give her a divorce, that they could be together. He thought of the vet basking in Daisy’s glow and it hurt more than he could ever have imagined. But Daisy deserved the best. He put down his drink and went into the hall.
Art was kissing Daisy under the mistletoe.
The pain of losing her was suddenly much sharper, a twisting stab that was almost unbearable. He turned and went back into the living room and found his drink and drained it with one gulp. Then he went to get a refill.
Daisy looked up at Art and smiled ruefully. “I was really hoping you were the one.” He should have been she knew; he was warm and funny and loved animals and didn’t care about holes in the furniture or funny-looking clothes. But there had been nothing for her in his kiss. It had been a perfectly good kiss, but she felt more watching Linc smile at her across a room than she did when this lovely, sweet man kissed her. “I’m sorry.” She took his hand. “I really thought I—”
Art shook his head. “But you don’t.”
“No,” she said sadly. “And you’re just the kind of man I should be perfectly happy with. I can’t understand it.”
“I can.” He sighed. “You’re in love with that gangster you married. God knows why.”
Daisy tensed. “No. That’s not it. I don’t know what it is. But I feel awful for leading you on.”
“You didn’t.” Art relaxed against the doorframe. “I knew it was too good to be true.”
“You don’t love me,” Daisy said, making a new discovery. “That’s good.”
“No, but I could have. You’re just the kind of woman I could be happy with.” He looked down at her with affectionate bewilderment. “Am I still your vet?”
“Well, of course.”
“Good. I’d miss having you around. But I am going to go now and think about rearranging my plans for the future. This sort of changes things for me.” He kissed her on the cheek. “Merry Christmas, Daisy Blaise.”
Daisy saw him to the door and watched him walk off into the snowy night. Art was the perfect man for her story and he was all wrong. The wrong man was back in the living room, and she knew he’d be perfect. Nothing made sense, so she went back to the archway into the living room to regroup. Julia and Evan had gone, she saw. Linc was saying good-bye to the Bookers, walking with them to the hallway, where she stood, and the Crawfords were following them. She looked at the clock. Midnight. The Cinderella hour. She sighed.
“Bye-bye, Daisy.” Chickie held out her arms and Daisy went to give her a hug. “There,” Chickie said with satisfaction, pushing her next to Linc. “You’re under the mistletoe. Kiss her, Linc.”
Daisy turned and found him looking down at her with such misery in his eyes that she was shaken. “What is it, love?” she whispered. She put her arms around him