Sure Thing(29)

I should think it’ll be fine, I singsong in my head, annoyed. Until my own phone rings. It’s resting face up on the small flip down tray in front of my seat—and it’s Daisy, her name flashing across the screen in what feels like foot-tall letters. I slap my hand over the phone and send the call to voicemail as fast as I can. Why didn’t it occur to me to change how I have listed her in my phone? I flick my eyes to Jennings to determine if he noticed that the person calling me was, well, me. So awkward.

He seems absorbed in tapping out an email on his own phone so I breathe a sigh of relief and open the contacts so I can change Daisy’s name. I wonder if I should change it to Violet? I hit the backspace button to retype before deciding that it will only confuse me more if my phone display tells me I’m calling myself. Ugh, what a mess. This is most surely going to end in disaster, but if it doesn’t, I say a silent pledge vowing to never, not ever, let Daisy talk me into one of her shenanigans again. No matter how unemployed I might be or how convincing she might be. I backspace again and type ‘Sister’ onto the screen before hitting done and tapping closed on contacts.

That’s when my phone rings a second time. I recognize the number even though it’s not programmed into my phone. It’s a job recruiter I’ve been working with. Yes! But I can’t answer it right now. Not on a bus with no privacy and background noise. Dammit. I stare at the screen longingly for a moment before sending the call to voicemail while saying a silent prayer she’s got good news for me.

It’s not like she’s going to change her mind because I couldn’t answer the call, right? That’s ridiculous. I’ll call her back in the next hour—just as soon as we get to Mount Vernon. We’ve got a walking tour of George Washington’s estate scheduled and I think once the tour starts I can fall behind the group and return the recruiter’s call, along with Daisy’s. I probably don’t even need to follow the group through the walking tour, do I? When I tagged along with Daisy that one time she gave them free time to take pictures, visit the gift shop and all that jazz before they boarded the bus again. So I’ll just deliver the group to the beginning of the walking tour and give them a spot to meet me at after and that’ll free up a couple of hours for me to return calls and check my email. Perfect.

“Are you avoiding someone, love?”

It appears I have Jennings’ attention again, his eyes on the phone I’m holding and nervously tapping my fingers against.

“No,” I reply coolly. “Are you?” I question with a nod to his phone.

“Not at all.” He laughs.

“Okay,” I retort for lack of having anything else to say. Then I thump my head against the headrest and groan.

“Everything all right?”

“I’ve just got a lot going on.” I shrug.

“Tell me about it,” he says and he seems genuinely interested and I wish I’d met him as Violet.

“Do you ever wish you could start over?” I ask.

“You’re pretty young to be worried about starting over, aren’t you?” He says it quietly, then frowns while examining my face. “You’ve got your whole life ahead of you.”

“I’m almost thirty.” I sigh.

“You’re twenty-six, Daisy, you’re not almost anything.”

“I’m on the wrong side of twenty-five, is what I am,” I grumble and rub at my forehead with my fingertips. “When you’re under twenty-five and your life goes to shit you can just shrug and be like, ‘I’m only twenty-three.’ Once you pass twenty-five…” I train off and shake my head. “Get it together, right? At a certain age it’s just, this is your life. This is who you are.” I throw my hands up to emphasize my point a moment before I remember he’s almost forty and on a vacation courtesy of his grandmother. Awkward. “Sorry,” I say. “I just feel like I’m running out of time.”

“Daisy, you’re twenty-six, not terminal.”

“I suppose,” I agree, but I smile because he’s smiling and it’s contagious.

“So what are you in a rush to accomplish then? What exactly is it you’re running out of time on?”

I glance at him, wondering if I should continue. He still looks as though he’s genuinely curious about what I have to say, so what the heck. I’m never going to see this guy again when the week is over and we’re not in a relationship so there’s no need to be politically correct.

“I’m going to be honest with you, Jennings.”

“Please,” he agrees, the hint of a smirk on his cheek.