The Pact (Winslow Brothers #2)(81)

Far away from tomorrow’s fate…and the inevitability of a broken heart.





Flynn

“You guys heading out?” Rem asks, giving me a slap on the shoulder and a shake of my hand.

“Yeah, man.” I look right beside me to where Daisy should be, anticipating her smile and ramble, but she’s nowhere to be found. I grace Rem with a return slap on the shoulder and glance around the room for my favorite bouncy head of curls. It’s only when I look all the way across the restaurant, at the double doors that lead out the front, that I spot that very hair making an abrupt departure.

“Everything okay?” Rem asks, observing me so closely that I can feel it without even having to look.

Honestly, I don’t know. One minute, Daisy was with me, and in the span of two minutes when I was grabbing money out of my wallet to tip the waitstaff, she was gone.

Maybe she’s sick?

That possibility doesn’t sit well with me, and I don’t offer Rem any explanation. Instead, I excuse myself with an “I’ll see you tomorrow” and head for the exit. I don’t even bother saying goodbye to Jude or Sophie when I pass them at the bar, despite their being the guests of honor, and I don’t seek out anyone else from my family to let them know we’re leaving.

I’ll see them at the wedding tomorrow anyway, and after forty-one years of silent goodbyes, there’s no need to start announcing my departure now.

The instant I step outside, I’m hit with a cool night breeze and the vision of Daisy hauling ass in the opposite direction of our apartment.

What the hell is going on?

I break into a jog as I trail behind her quick feet, and thanks to long legs and good genetics, it only takes half a block for me to catch up with her.

“Dais,” I say in a quiet voice so as not to startle her from behind. “What’s wrong? Where are you going?”

She doesn’t respond, stalwart silence in the face of a tense moment a first for her, I’m sure. I quicken my steps and fall in step beside her, reaching out to grab at the soft part of her arm just above her elbow. She keeps walking, even with my hold, but the streaks of wetness down her cheeks that shimmer beneath the soft glow of the streetlamps are unmistakable.

Clearly, she’s not okay, and as much as she might need this game of cat and mouse, I can tell by the ache in my chest that I need to know what’s wrong even more. “Daisy, hold up a minute,” I state and wrap my arm around her shoulders to pull us both to a stop. “What’s going on? Are you sick?”

She averts her eyes. “I just needed to get out of there.”

“I get that, trust me. I know the whole scene with my family can be overwhelming, but you’re going in the opposite direction of our place. Let’s go home.”

She shakes her head and digs her teeth into her quivering bottom lip, her voice a scratchy version of itself. “Your place.”

“What?”

“It’s your place. Not mine. Not ours. It’s yours.”

I reach out to place both hands on her cheeks, but when she steps back to avoid my touch, it feels as if someone just put a line of barbed wire in my chest. This isn’t the anxious, chatty Daisy I know. This woman is cold. Detached. Determined.

“What am I missing here, Daisy?”

“I can’t do this anymore.”

“Do what exactly?”

“This!” she blurts out and finally meets my eyes. Tears are now streaming down her cheeks, and she gestures between us with an erratic back-and-forth of her hand. “Us. Me and you and all the lies. I can’t do this anymore, Flynn. I can’t do it to you or your family. I won’t.”

“What are you talking about? You’re not doing anything to me or my family.”

“They think our marriage is for real, Flynn! They think I’m going to be around! Winnie treats me like a sister, and your mom treats me like a second daughter. Everyone has welcomed me with open arms and kind hearts, and I’m about to shit all over them!”

“Daisy—” I start to say, but she’s quick to cut me off.

“No, Flynn!” she shouts so loud I’m certain that everyone within a one-mile radius can hear her. “There’s nothing you can say that will make this okay. I’m sorry I ever brought you into this mess. I’m sorry for the aftermath that you’re going to have to shoulder when I’m gone. I’m just sorry about all of it.”

Aftermath when she’s gone?

Tomorrow is her interview. The day she’ll find out if her application was approved and if USCIS will give her a green card. If it all pans out the way it should, our marriage will no longer be needed, and she can move back to LA.

She can go back to her life that doesn’t include you.

We could get a divorce and it wouldn’t affect Daisy’s immigration status. I know this because I already did my research. She’ll be free to continue on with the process and eventually get citizenship in a few years if she wants.

She won’t need you anymore.

I place a hand to my chest when a sharp pang shoots beneath my ribs. Everything inside me feels as if it’s ripping apart at the seams.

“Just let me go, Flynn,” she says, and her voice shakes when the words leave her lips.

No. I’m not ready to let her go.

“Your interview is tomorrow. We can talk again after,” I force myself to concede through a throat so tight it’s hard to breathe. I grab her hand and turn to walk to the apartment, but she yanks out of my hold and effectively spins me back around to face her. Her eyes are pained and her body is crippled under the weight of her yell as she leans forward and roars.