so has no choice, really.”
My first thought went to Daisy, who didn’t have those kinds of resources. But she was naturally pretty. She had an authenticity that was refreshing. A beguiling presence that my thoughts returned to all too easily.
“She’s a savvy businesswoman, too.” Nick remained focused on Morgan.
Surely there’d be less drama with Daisy, compared to a woman who was high maintenance. Morgan was posting pictures of Nick already and letting the world into their relationship. It felt like a bad idea to be so open.
I turned to face him. “I gave Daisy a lift home yesterday.”
“Why?”
“When she ran into me her glasses got broken.”
Mentioning to him that she’d gone and bumped into a lamppost afterward seemed bad form—Nick didn’t need to know that detail.
His eyes turned dark. “Was she upset I left with Morgan?”
“She’s taking it well. She wanted me to give you a message.”
He set his empty glass down on a table. “I hadn’t spoken with Daisy for weeks, and then she turned up at my party last night and was all weird.”
“Weird how?”
“Like she was desperate to get my attention.”
“Perhaps if you hadn’t blocked her number.”
He spun to face me. “Did she tell you that?”
“She’s been trying to call you and can’t get through.”
Nick pulled his phone out of his back pocket and swiped the screen. “She’s not blocked. I’ll show you.” His frown deepened and then he flashed a wary glance over to Morgan.
“She is blocked, then?” I said.
“That’s strange. I’ll unblock her.”
“Give Daisy a call. It won’t hurt to check on her.”
He gave a reluctant nod. “I don’t know why she came to see me last night.”
“She’s concerned for you.”
“Why?”
I glanced over at Morgan. “How well do you know Morgan? I mean, really know her?”
“I’m living with her.”
“It’s all happening very fast, Nick.”
“Max, you don’t live here. You can’t fly in and start bossing us all around.”
“I’m just looking out for you.”
He sighed. “What was Daisy’s message?”
“She wished you a happy birthday.” I rubbed my brow, wondering how much I should say. “And best of luck for getting into Manchester United.”
“She needs to move on.”
“You’re ready for that? I mean, you were living together.”
“Yes, of course I’m ready. We’re over.”
“I glanced at Morgan’s Instagram page earlier.”
“She has over a million followers.” He shook his head. “Amazing.”
“Nick, Morgan does seem to have had a lot of boyfriends.”
“What the fuck? Did that come from Daisy?”
“No, I just scrolled down Morgan’s profile page and there they were.”
The comments I’d seen beneath their photos were brutal.
Nick looked pissed off. “Can’t you just be happy for me, please?”
It was my turn to sigh. “If you’re truly happy that’s good enough for me.”
“What else did you and Daisy talk about?”
“Nothing, really. You were together for six months. I’m surprised you never introduced us.”
“Mum has very high standards,” he said. “I didn’t need her on my case.”
“How do you mean?”
“Daisy works in a shop.”
“You can’t be serious, Nick!”
“Mum likes Morgan. They’re both into fashion.”
This was another reason I had to be more involved in his life. He was clearly making questionable decisions. His father had hailed from the north of England, and a more down to earth and easy-going man couldn’t have been found. David would have balked at any kind of snobbery from his son.
“Look, Daisy’s sweet,” Nick admitted. “But she’s not as daring and exciting as Morgan.”
“She’s younger, too.”
“Oh, shit, there’s Mum.”
“It’s your party! She arranged it.”
He flashed me a wary look. “I don’t want her giving me a hard time for wearing jeans.”
At least it would take the heat off me.
“When I dropped Daisy off yesterday, she gave me the clothes you left behind. It’s just uniforms.” Along with your socks, spawned from hell. “I put them in the laundry.”
“You didn’t need to worry about that. I have uniforms at Morgan’s.”
I frowned at him. “Who’s helping Daisy move?”
“Don’t know.”
“Did she book movers?”
“She can’t really afford that.”
“Does she have a family member who can help? A brother, or…?”
Nick held my gaze for a long time. “He died.”
“Her brother? When?”
“Six months ago.”
“Before or after your dad passed?”
“Does it matter?” he snapped.
“She’s moving out of the house you both lived in, with no one to help her?”
“I’m sure her aunt will help her out.”
I paused the conversation long enough to return Mum’s wave. She was in her element, lording over a group of elites and holding court like a true icon of style—a former fashion model that still graced the covers of magazines. A touch of cosmetic surgery here and there