He gives me that sad smile again. “Me. I could be your choice. I would take such good care of you. We have fun together. We could travel or find a place to settle far away from the bright lights and screaming fans of Ransom.” He rolls his eyes. “You would never have to worry about people trying to get a piece of you. I would take care of you.”
“Levi—”
“Don’t say no,” he says quickly, a bit of fear in his eyes. “Not yet. Just think about it. I know that you love him, I do. But have you ever even let yourself consider that he might not be right for you? What do you think would happen if you opened up your eyes a bit more, just for a while? Give yourself time to think. Time to plan a life you really want, not just a life of following him around fulfilling his dreams. A life you want, Daisy. Anywhere you want. Would he still be the one you choose?”
“I don’t know,” I whisper, because it’s true. I never once, not in all these years, imagined a life that didn’t include him. When we were apart, I stopped dreaming entirely rather than dream of someone else.
For a moment, I imagine it. What would my life be like with someone like Levi? We could get jobs or maybe go to school, live somewhere quiet and private. There would be no fans trying to get a peek at us, no reporters, no one to throw our biggest mistakes back in our faces for sport. I think back over the week we’ve spent here, and I realize that, in spite of what sent me off to hide, I’ve enjoyed my time with him. We do have fun together. In fact, it’s pretty much impossible not to have fun when Levi’s around. I’ve been comfortable here. I’ve been safe. And when I asked him to take me away, he didn’t hesitate for a second.
“I’m not going to bother you about it anymore,” he says softly. “I just want you to think about it, okay? It doesn’t have to be with me.” His eyes twinkle in that familiar way of his. “Though I’d like to give myself my own hearty recommendation. But regardless of whether you want to be with me, I want you to think—really think—about what you want.”
I nod, dazed. He watches me for a minute, his eyes intense on mine. Slowly, he moves forward in his chair, leaning toward me until his face is close enough that I can make out the tiny freckles on his nose. I watch, wide eyed, unable to react, as he swallows heavily. Then, he brushes his lips against mine, so softly I barely feel it.
“You deserve everything, Daisy,” he whispers. He stands and turns for the house, leaving me alone on the deck, more confused than I’ve ever been.
Chapter Thirty
Daltrey
“Stop!” Dad calls from the back of the theater, waving his arms over his head. “Stop!”
Cash’s guitar cuts off, the drums and bass following. I take my fingers from the keys of my piano.
“What now?” Lennon asks.
Dad points at me. “You’re off, Daltrey.”
I stare out into the dark void of the seating area. “What?”
Dad starts walking toward the stage. “You’re off by a quarter beat. You need to listen for the drums.”
I flex my fingers over the keys, struggling to keep my temper. “Fine.”
He reaches the front row. “What did you say?”
I glare at him. “I said fine.”
He crosses his arms. “Do you have something else to say?”
“No, Dad, I don’t. You said I was off. I don’t think I was, but I will try to keep on tempo. Can we just get this over with?”
“That right there is the attitude that’s messing us up,” he says, gesturing at me.
“What, that I said I would try?”
“No, smart ass. The ‘just get this over with’ part.”
Oh, God. I don’t think I can sit here and listen to this lecture again; I really don’t. I grit my teeth, staring at the white and black keys, and don’t reply, knowing that if I do I’ll only end up yelling.
“You’ve been off all week,” he continues. “Your energy is low—”
“Everyone’s energy is low, Dad,” Lennon interjects. “We’re in the final week of the tour. We’re tired.”
“It’s different with him,” my dad insists. “And you know it. Daltrey, you’re acting like you’d rather be anywhere but here. You think the fans can’t read that?”
“Damn it, Dad,” I mutter. “I’m doing my best.”
“You are not. I’ve seen your best, and this is not it.”
“I’m doing my best under the circumstances.”
“The circumstances, Daltrey, are of your own making. So maybe instead of moping your way through these shows, you should figure out how to change them.”