“A safe place.”
“But a place that Daisy doesn’t know about?”
“Da, it is a spotter house. I used it to gather information about the accountant.”
“Shit, man, you can’t keep secrets from your woman. She knows what you did and accepted it. Hell, she shot old Sergei for you. If you don’t come clean about these places, the next time she holds a gun, you’ll be on the other end of it.”
“Perhaps that would be for the best.”
“Fuck your Russian fatalism. You really think Daisy is better off fucking some other guy? Because that’s what’s going to happen if you take a walk about.”
“Nyet. Never.” I shove the cash and passport back into the hiding place and replace the refrigerator. “No man will touch Daisy while I breathe.”
“Then get your fucking act together and go home. Apparently you are having homemade spaghetti according to what Daisy texted Regan.”
“Da. I am leaving now.”
“Nick, do you need help? I can be on the first plane.”
“Stay in Texas with Regan,” I order. “I will handle this.”
I do not see Oliver McFadden’s vehicle when I exit nor on my drive home. It is unlikely he has forgotten about me, but there is no purpose in hiding my residence. The public records identify my home address as the three-story brick apartment complex within walking distance of the university campus.
When I arrive home, Daisy greets me with a smile. Her day has turned sunny as it always does. She refuses to allow external forces to affect her adversely. Unlike me. I need her like the summer needs sun. I could never walk away from her.
“I found this recipe for homemade pasta. It was really easy and actually kind of fun.” There is a dusting of flour on her nose, forehead, and cheeks.
“Do we need to eat it now?” I ask.
“No, why?”
I sweep her into my arms. “Because I am a dour Ukrainian who cannot function without a taste of you on my mouth.”
She rubs her flour covered face against mine. “You’re insatiable.”
“Da, this is true. My cock is always hungry for you.”
Chapter 5
Daisy
The next time I go to the commons for lunch, I’m unsure what to think when I see Christine sitting at her normal table. She didn’t come to the disaster of the party, so I’m not sure how to categorize our friendship or if we even have one. Then again, the party was a nightmare, so maybe it’s a blessing she wasn’t there to see my utter humiliation. I sit down at a nearby empty table and pull out my iPad so I can study. I’m in Christine’s line of sight¸ so if she wants to talk to me, she can. I’m just not sure I’m ready to be the one to initiate a conversation again.
To my surprise—and vast relief—Christine waves at me, a timid smile on her face. “Hi, Daisy! Come sit with me.”
A return smile etches itself on my face, and I’m so happy that she’s being normal and friendly that I gather my things and hurry over to her table, plopping down ungracefully. “Hi, Christine,” I say, feeling shy and gauche. “You look nice today.” Her hair is tucked into a modest braid, and she’s wearing a pale fluffy sweater over her jeans. The entire look is a soft, welcoming one.
She makes a face. “My boyfriend told me this sweater makes me look like a fat snowman.”
“Oh.” I . . . don’t know what to say to that. I think I’d be hurt if Nick told me I looked like a fat snowman. I’m a little appalled that her boyfriend would be so casually cruel, but I don’t know what to think about people anymore. I’m starting to think I’m way more sheltered than I ever suspected.
But she doesn’t wait for more of a response from me. Instead, she ducks her head and gives me a hesitant look. “I don’t suppose you have your notes from last class, do you? For the homework?”
“I do.” I pull out my books, and my homework pages are on top of my notes. At the sight of my completed homework, Christine brightens. “Oh, could I just copy you?”
I hesitate, but only for a second. I know I’m being used, but I don’t even care. Someone’s talking to me and not laughing in my face, and it feels better than it should. If bribes of homework are what it takes to have a friend, then at least I’ll have one person who will talk to me.
“You’re a lifesaver, Daisy,” she exclaims and begins to rapidly copy down my work.
I smile wryly to myself. Am I really? Or just a sucker who is desperately lonely? I pull out my lunch and begin to set it up. I made chocolate chip muffins last night, and I see Nick has put three of them in my lunch, along with the usual assortment. I’d swear the man is trying to fatten me up, but it’s just like Nick to think that if one muffin is good, three will make me extra happy. The thought makes me feel warm inside. “Want a muffin?” I ask Christine.