Sure Thing(53)

I lost that somewhere in the four years since.

I’m not losing it again.

My attempt to get my groove back with a sexy stranger turned into so much more than I expected. More than a kickstart. More than affirmation. It gave me my life back, in a sense—reminded me of the glee of the unknown. The sheer joy of a blank slate and endless options.

Today we’re going on a walking tour of Philadelphia. It’s the final day of the tour and we’ve got a local expert who will be leading the tour. All I have to do is trail behind and make sure no one gets lost. Tomorrow the coach will make two trips to the airport to drop the guests and then it’s over. If I can get through today I’ve pulled this off. And today should be easy. I know Philly. Granted, I wasn’t frequenting historic sites much during my university years, but I’m familiar enough with each of our stops today to answer anything I’d be expected to know about this city without Daisy’s notebook.

I’m in the home stretch.

There’s a bounce to my step as I arrive in the lobby to greet the group. An actual bounce. I pulled this off—well, almost. But today will be a piece of cake, so yeah, I’ve pulled it off.

Minus the one thing.

I haven’t figured out how to tell Jennings my name is Violet yet.

Tiny detail, really.

I gnaw on my lip and wonder if he has to know. Of course he has to know, I chide myself. If this is going to continue—if we’re going to continue—I have to tell him everything. As much as I feel like what’s happened between us is real, only one of us has the facts.

I’ll tell him after. The end of the trip is so close now it doesn’t make sense to mention it today. Or tonight.

Tomorrow. I’ll tell him tomorrow.

He’ll probably think it’s funny.

It’s sorta funny. Right?

Fuck.

“Daisy!” Someone is calling my sister’s name as I walk across the lobby. I can’t place the voice and as I turn to follow it, I find a man in maybe his late thirties or early forties approaching me with a wide smile. He’s very good-looking. I’ve never seen him before, but since he’s calling me Daisy I’ll assume Daisy has—and prepare myself to fake it until I can figure out if they know each other. I say a silent prayer that they don’t ‘know’ each other.

He’s wearing a polo with a logo of the walking tour we’re taking today and holding a small white envelope that he extends in my direction.

“Hey.” I smile at the guy. It appears his name is Gary, based on a name badge pinned to his shirt. I take the envelope from his hand. Daisy’s name is handwritten on the front in large letters that appear to be the penmanship of a girl under ten. The pink glitter ink helps me narrow it down.

“Um, thank you,” I offer. Please, please fill me in on what this is about, I think to myself as Jennings arrives in the lobby and stops beside us. I glance at the envelope and back to Gary again. “This is so nice.” At least I think it is. Maybe this guy is a psycho who writes Daisy letters in childish handwriting. Why did she not clue me in on a potential Gary issue in Philadelphia? They’ve clearly worked together on this tour before; he definitely seems to know her. She never was one for formulating a solid plan though. ‘Daisy’s my pantser,’ Mom always says. ‘Violet’s my planner.’

“From my daughter,” Gary says, and I do my best not to audibly sigh in relief. “Thank you so much for helping her set up her blog. She said she’s up to three hundred followers. She’s pretty excited.” He laughs and shakes his head.

“Oh, that was so nice of—” I’m about to say ‘her.’ As in, That was so nice of Daisy to help this kid. Except I’m Daisy right now, so I’d be complimenting myself. “So nice of her to write a thank you note.” I ad-lib that reply like a pro. That was close. Time to wrap this up before it goes bad.

“She loved your photography tips too.”

“Photography tips,” Jennings mutters to himself under his breath.

“She said the way you explained moving around the shot for variety and working from the back of a scene forward changed how she sets up a shot. Whatever that means.” Gary laughs.

I laugh too, a fake ha-ha kind of laugh. “Yeah, those are my best tips.”

“She’s such a fan of your blog.”

“You have a blog?” Jennings looks interested in that tidbit of information.

“Um, thank you!” I beam a smile at Gary and take a half step away in the direction of the group waiting in the lobby. “She’s a sweetheart.” I have no idea if this is true, but everyone thinks their kid is great, so I’m sure I can’t go wrong with a compliment, factual or not.