Here was Daisy walking her granddog, wearing Lincoln’s sweatshirt.

As with the first time Daisy met her, the woman was perfectly dressed, her white-and-blond bob tidy, her lipstick perfectly in place.

Daisy’s smile stayed plastered on her face as Brenda studied her, her gaze puzzled as she tried to place how she knew Daisy, and then stunned when the pieces clicked into place.

Daisy swallowed and thanked her long-gone mama for making manners as natural as breathing, because somehow she managed to step forward and extend her hand. “Mrs. Lyons. Lovely to see you again.”

Brenda shifted Kiwi to her left arm and shook Daisy’s hand, but she didn’t say a single word, and it was horrible.

Daisy’s mind raced with how to fill the silence. In the end, there was really only one thing to say: the most important.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” she said.

Brenda inhaled long and slow through her nose before bending down and placing Kiwi back on the ground. “Lincoln, is he…?”

“Getting breakfast,” Daisy said. There was no point in pretending this was anything other than what it was. Daisy was wearing Lincoln’s clothes, walking his dog, outside of his apartment, at seven A.M. on a Sunday.

“I should have called,” Brenda said a bit stiffly. “I thought…and I got to thinking about him. Didn’t want him to be alone, in case he was struggling like I’m struggling…”

The woman’s voice broke off, her eyes filled with tears, and Daisy instinctively stepped forward to comfort her.

Brenda Lyons reared back. “Don’t. Please.”

“I’m so sorry,” Daisy said helplessly. “Lincoln will be back any minute. I’ll make myself scarce and you can talk, and—”

“No,” Brenda said, gathering herself as she dabbed at the corners of her eyes. “I should go. Please tell him I was here, and I’ll be sure to make sure he’s free next time I pop into the city.”

Subtext: I’ll make sure he’s not fresh out of bed with some hussy.

“Please, Mrs. Lyons. I know how hard this must be. You stay, I’ll leave, and—”

“Kiwi used to be Katie’s dog. Did he ever tell you that?” Brenda asked.

Daisy swallowed and forced a small smile. “Yes, he did.”

Brenda didn’t smile back. She merely stared back at Daisy with steady, tortured green eyes before nodding once and turning away.

Daisy resisted the urge to call out to her. Because she knew what Brenda Lyons had really wanted to say. Not just that Kiwi had once been Katie’s.

But that Lincoln had once been Katie’s too.

“You don’t need to worry,” Daisy whispered to the woman’s retreating back. “I think he still is.”

Chapter 31

Lincoln knew the second he walked back into his apartment that something was wrong. Kiwi was her usual ecstatic self, but the shell-shocked woman sitting on the couch was anything but ecstatic.

Daisy’s expression was pinched, her color pale, and her eyes unreadable. Even more alarming, she was dressed in last night’s clothes, which, considering that required wiggling into a tight green cocktail dress before eight on a Sunday morning, probably did not signal good things.

“You could have borrowed something,” he said with a forced smile as he set the bag and coffees on the counter.

“I did,” she said, not moving. “One of your Brown University sweatshirts.”

Lincoln made a conscious effort not to wince. He’d met Katie in college. It was nearly impossible to think of those days and not think of her.

“Your would-be mother-in-law saw me wearing it.”

This time there was no withholding the wince. Or the shock.

“Brenda’s here?” he asked, careful to keep his voice steady. “Where?”

“She left. Wouldn’t stay after she saw me walking the dog. Wearing your clothes.”

He closed his eyes. He’d been holding out hope that maybe Daisy had been able to explain things away, to convince Brenda that it wasn’t what she thought.

But of course, it was exactly what she thought. He had had a woman stay over at his apartment. Screwed her last night twice, and again this morning too.

“This is a fucking nightmare,” he said, rubbing his hands through his hair and pacing in a circle.

“Maybe it doesn’t have to be,” Daisy said, standing and coming to him. “Maybe you can call her, ask her to coffee. Explain things.”

“No, it’s too late for that,” Lincoln said, stepping back and away from Daisy’s outstretched hand. He ignored the pain in her eyes at his rejection. He couldn’t deal with it right now. “If it was just that she saw you walking Kiwi, I could probably call her later, play it off like you were watching Kiwi while I was out of town, but Katie and I both went to Brown, so the sweatshirt is a dead giveaway.”

“Hold up. Are you seriously suggesting that you’d tell her I was your dog walker if you thought you could get away with it?”

Daisy had gone very still, her mood shifting from hurt to angry.

He didn’t care. She didn’t get it. Nobody got it. He’d basically just shit on the memory of the love of his life, and her mother had witnessed the aftermath.

God, it hadn’t even been a year. Didn’t Katie deserve a year?

Hell, maybe Katie deserved a lifetime.

“What else do you want me to tell her, Daisy?” Lincoln exploded, anger mingling with despair. “That you woke me up with a blow job and I went to fetch a thank-you breakfast?”