Daisy Haites: The Great Undoing: Book 4 (Magnolia Parks Universe)
Daisy Haites: Chapter 38

Carmelo opened a little Italian restaurant in Notting Hill. A dream of his for as long as I can remember. Life’s been fairly relaxed in the Boroughs lately, and Santino isn’t going anywhere — so Carms has a minute to indulge in what his life might have been like if we weren’t all what we are.

He’s always been a decent cook, in spite of his mother and taught by my sister, mostly. But he can make cocktails like no other, they’re his real specialty. Italian cocktails and aperitifs we’ve all forgotten about.

I get that feeling still, when I walk into a room with Magnolia and everyone looks, such a weird high. Never really had a conscious thought about who I turned up at places with, but with her I like the the stares. I like that she doesn’t even notice either.

“What?” She flashes me a confused look once she feels my eyes on her. It’s been more than a month of this now — Am I in my head about it a bit? Yeah.

I know I’m well out of that post-have afterglow I was hiding behind before and I’m still here — still annoyed whenever she leaves, still annoyed if that fucking ex-boyfriend of hers flashes up on her phone, still replaceing myself watching her in my bed at night with a morbid fascination like she’s a hand-painted time-bomb.

Grab her by the waist and push her in front of me, walking towards Carmelo who’s standing in the centre of the restaurant, grinning.

“Ey!” I give him a quick hug and he turns to Magnolia, picks up her hand and kisses her cheeks. She bats her eyes like she’s not used to the whole world swooning after her and honestly, those fucking Italians — so smooth all the time.

“This is amazing—” Magnolia glances around. “The interior is gorgeous. Who did it?”

“My sister.” Carmelo gives her a little smile.

“Gia?” I blink, surprised. “Really? She’s done well.”

She has. It’s Cistercian, arches and marble — classic and dramatic. The lighting is impressive for the space.

“You’ve done good too, man.” I nod at him.

He stands a bit taller, pleased with himself, and then points to Magnolia. “And you have done well with him — never looked sharper,” he tells her, giving her a playful look.

“A.P.C Wool Mathieu Bomber Jacket, Han Kjobenhavn Grey Distressed T-Shirt, Double Knee black cargos from Stone Island Shadow Project, and some Timberlands.” She shrugs. “Easy peasy.”

“Can you easy peasy me?” he asks her with a smirk.

I toss him a look and he laughs it off. Can’t say I love him flirting with her even if it’s just for fun so it pleases me when she scrunches her nose up as politely as she can. “I’m sorry, I’m only interested in easy peasy-ing him.”

That made me happier than it should have, but not Carms…He gives her a reluctant, kind of annoyed smile.

“Just my luck—”

Magnolia shrugs like she can’t help it. “I mean, have you seen him? So tall — what are you, six foot three?”

“Four.” I tell her.

“Four!” She announces, proud. Like she grew me herself. “Six foot four, and look at that face. My God, those eyes. So angry all the time—” I roll them at her and she keeps going like I want her to. “so handsome, every piece of clothing’s just begging to be worn by him—”

Carmelo takes a steep breath in through his nose and tosses me a look. “I gather she’s helping you keep your ego in check?”

“What ego?” I give him a grin.

Carms rolls his eyes and looks back at Magnolia. “Can I get you a drink?”

“Yes!” She beams up at him. “Whatever you recommend! Nothing with Campari in it though—” Carmelo nods. “Or Cointreau,” she adds as an afterthought. Carmelo nods again. “Actually, nothing bitter at all. Except, not overly sweet either— perhaps like a — well, just something rather balanced on the palette, semi-sweet but a little bit tart—”

“Fuck—” I roll my eyes. “Just get her a French 75.”

I shake my head at her and she frowns up at me, like I’ve hurt her feelings but I know I haven’t.

“I, though, will have whatever you recommend,” I tell him.

Carmelo laughs and walks away.

A server takes us to our table and Magnolia turns to Kekoa and Declan, looking at them over her shoulder.

“Are you not joining us?”

Declan shakes his head and Kekoa gives her a quarter of a smile. He likes her. Thinks she’s sweet. “We’re going to sit at the bar.”

She nods once, a bit confused.

“They don’t want to join us?” she asks, almost offended as she takes her seat.

I shake my head. “It’s not their job to join us.”

I reach around the table and pull her chair over towards me. Too far away. I like her close.

The sound is obnoxious and loud, I probably scuff my friend’s marble as I’m doing it, but I don’t really give a shit.

She gives me a look as I pull her closer to me. Somewhere between her replaceing it sexy and stupid, where she likes how strong I am and is scared of it at the same time. Her and me — we’re a juxtaposition. We don’t work, but I guess we sort of do, even though there is no ‘we’, and I have this strange moment of clarity — unwelcome, if I’m honest — the thought fucks me up, I don’t let the sentence fully form in my mind, wouldn’t let myself say it out loud anyway. Don’t even really want to think it.

She rests her chin in her hand, crosses her legs and they brush against mine as they do.

“Are you proud of your friend?” she asks, looking up at me.

“I am.” I nod once, then look around the restaurant again. “It’s good, I like it.”

“Do you know his sister?”

I flick her a look.

“Intimately,” I tell her, just to get a rise. Her brows dip a little, a tiny bit jealous. “We slept together once about fifteen years ago,” I clarify for her.

“Fifteen years ago I was… nine,” she tells me, doing the math in her head.

I pull a face. “We were sixteen.”

“Did you lose your virginity to her?” she asks, taking a sip of her water.

I shake my head. “I lost my virginity to a girl in Porquerolles.”

“What was her name?” She asks, leaning in again. Loves story time, this one.

I let out a small laugh. “I don’t know — it wasn’t planned.” I shrug. “We were just on a boat all day, a bunch of us, she didn’t speak English, I didn’t really know French at the time, and when the boat pulled in we went for a walk and it just happened.”

“It just happened?” Magnolia rolls her eyes. “You just happened to lose your virginity on a beach with a perfect French stranger whose name you don’t know?”

“Yep.”

She folds her arms over her chest, sits up a little straighter. “Are you going to ask me about my first time?”

I shake my head. “I don’t want to know about your first time.”

“Why not?” She pouts.

Because it wasn’t with me.

“How’s Bridget?” I ask, changing the subject.

“Oh.” She brightens up. “She’s quite well. She’s doing tremendously in school, she’s midway through her thesis on the globalisation of International Relations—”

“Does she like me yet?”

Magnolia purses her mouth, squinting. “Not quite yet.”

I give her a resigned smile. Don’t pull at the thread of why that bothers me a bit.

“It’s not you — it’s—” She rolls her eyes. “She doesn’t like our ‘arrangement,’” she says delicately.

“What about you?” I lift my chin a bit and look over at her. “Do you like our arrangement, Tiges?” I ask her and her mouth falls open.

She blinks. Pauses. Caught off guard.

I like catching her off guard.

She goes to say something when suddenly the room goes dark.

Music cuts, lights out, all sounds come to a halt.

And I know before I hear a thing what’s happening, so I pull her to the floor, down under the table.

“What are you doing?” she asks urgently and I shush her. Listen as intently as I can. I don’t hear anything — but I don’t trust it. I can’t see Carmelo as I look around for him.

Magnolia’s eyes are big and confused, maybe a bit nervous.

Kekoa’s by my side a second later. The sound of the room starts to rise again as people wonder what’s going on—

“Take her—” I shove Magnolia into Kekoa’s arms.

“What?” Kekoa shakes his head, I can barely see him in the dark.

“Take her, I said.” I stare him down. “Now—” I push her towards him again.

Declan pulls me up off the floor. “I’ve got him,” he tells Koa, who fucking finally hustles Magnolia out of the building via the back way, into the waiting cars.

“Split?” Kekoa asks as he tosses her into the back seat.

I shake my head and shove him out of the way, jumping in after her.

The door closes and Kekoa jumps into the front seat next to Happy, who’s driving.

I stare over at Magnolia, who’s sitting there confused and maybe a bit nervous in the corner of my Escalade.

“Are you okay?” I grab her face as I slide over next to her.

“I’m — yeah.” She nods, a bit confused. She glances around. “What was that?”

I say nothing.

“What happened?” she asks and from the front seat, Kekoa turns around and hangs up the phone. He shakes his head.

“False alarm. Just a power outage—” Nods his head in the direction of the restaurant. “Want to go back?”

I hold my face and sigh. Shit.

No, I don’t want to go back. The back of my neck feels hot. Shit. I feel like a fucking idiot.

Magnolia watches me carefully, then touches my arm gently.

“Are you okay?”

I move my arm away from her, feeling embarrassed. “Yep.”

“Really?” She tilts her head, watching me closer than I want her to.

I say nothing, just stare ahead.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

I snap my head over at her. “Why would I not be okay?”

“I don’t know—” She clears her throat delicately. “That was a slight overreaction to a power-outage, was it not?”

I stare over at her a bit incredulous. “What?”

“Do you not think?” she asks sweetly, eyebrows up in a curious sort of way. I hate that she’s asking it sweetly. Hate that she sounds worried about me, hate that my hearts pounding in my chest so hard it might blow out through my ribs; the thought of something happening to her there—

I just shake my head at her, look out the window.

And then I notice at the same time she does that my hands are trembling.

She reaches out and takes one.

“Julian—” She says my name too gently.

I snatch it away. “I’m fine, I said.”

She watches me carefully before she speaks.

“Do you have PTSD?” she asks in a small voice and I snap my head in her direction.

“Fuck you.” I point at her and her head pulls back immediately. Kekoa looks over his shoulder and I ignore him.

She blinks twice.

“I beg your pardon?” she says quietly.

“I said fuck you.”

Her face falls in a way that reminds me of the glaciers you see on the Discovery Channel, the crumbly confusion where she doesn’t know what she’s done or how she’s done it.

Me either, actually.

But here’s what I do know.

I don’t want some nosy toff asking me if I have PTSD. I don’t need her touching my hand when she does, I don’t need her thinking I’m overreacting because she has no idea what the fuck I’ve seen, I don’t need her to be the face that flashes through my mind when I think someone’s trying to kill me. I don’t need her at all.

She frowns over at me, wounded. “What are you—”

But I cut her off. “Sorry I worried about you for a half a second—”

“Julian—” I can’t pick her tone. Not just confused, not just hurt, something else too.

I shrug like I don’t give a shit. “It’s gone now, it wont happen again—” I look her square in the eye. “We’re done.”

She’s not moving as she stares over at me, like she’s never been dumped before. Probably hasn’t, so fuck her for that too.

I turn away from her, look straight ahead.

“Drop her home,” I tell Kekoa.

Magnolia shifts her whole body away from me.

Moves as far as she can to another corner of the car and my heart pulls in a way it never has before. I feel a bit sick about the way she looks. Balled up in a corner like it’s a winter night and I’ve thrown a bucket of water over her.

Need to get rid of her though — all of it’s bad news.

The lights go off in a restaurant and I cover her with my body like someone’s shooting at us? Do I have PTSD? Fuck her.

She hasn’t moved since I spoke to her. Wordlessly twisting a ring I didn’t buy her around her finger.

We pull up outside her place at Grosvenor Square and I reach over and fling the door open. She looks at me, waiting for me to say something but I don’t. Don’t say a word.

She grabs her bag and climbs out. I slam the car door as soon as she’s on the street and tell Happy to drive. I don’t look at her, I don’t look back. Cover my face with my hands and breathe out. Try to convince myself it’s a sigh of relief not regret, but I know better.

We peel out and Kekoa turns around looking at me like I’m insane.

“You’re an idiot.” He tells me.

I square up. I feel like fighting. Never fought him before — I’d probably lose — wouldn’t hate being smacked in the face right now though.

“Say that again.” I stare over at him.

Koa shakes his head all bored, not taking the bait. “I feel like you’re going to regret that—”

“I feel like you should shut up.”

“You do have PTSD,” Kekoa tells me, unflinching.

I glare over at him. Don’t like it when he talks to me like this. The only one who might dare to try because he’s a bit like a dad. Except he’s not my dad.

“I said shut the fuck up.”

My old friend stares over at me, unimpressed. “Do we need to talk about what happened?”

My jaw goes tight and I look out the window. “What are you talking about?”

Koa shakes his head, breathes out. He’s annoyed, jaw all tense. “You said to take her. Forced her into my hands—”

“So?”

“So my job is to protect you.”

I shake my head. “Your job is whatever the fuck I tell you it is.”

“No,” He gives me a look. “It isn’t. My job is to keep you safe and any extension of you. Now, if you’re saying that’s her then fine, that’s a hill I’ll die on — happily, Jules. But you’ve gotta tell me, man — like, what is this? Do I need to get her a—”

“We’re done.” I pick a piece of thread off my sleeve and flick it away.

Kekoa frowns. “What?”

“We’re nothing.” I shrug. “You heard me. I dropped her home—”

“I dropped her home, actually…” Happy interjects. Doesn’t sound like he’s on board either.

“Alright?” I look between them, annoyed. “Want a prize for that? A pat on the back for doing what I pay you to do?”

“Cor blimey—” Happy scoffs and takes a corner extra sharp on purpose.

“She’s a fucking pain in the arse—” She’s nosy, she’s high-maintenance, she’s just a distraction “—and I’m done with her,” I tell them both again. I tell myself, actually.

“Funny,” Kekoa says, facing the front again. “You don’t sound all that done, man.”

Julian
12:13am

Where are you?

Upstairs

Why?

Is it true?

Is what

You and magnolia

?

Did you break up

Weren’t together.

So yes?

We weren’t together???

…

Fuck.

Yeah, sure. We broke up.

Are you ok?

Yep

Do you want me to come up?

Nope

Ok.

I left some cookies at your door.