Norman
A month later…
I had woken up next to Daisy Wright every morning for a month, and it still caught me slightly off guard each time — the way she looked before she was fully awake, hair everywhere, face soft and unguarded, nothing like the woman the rest of the world got to see. I had missed this version of her more than I had allowed myself to admit for three years.
I watched her for exactly three seconds before she opened one eye and looked at me.
“Stop staring,” she muttered.
“I’m not staring.”
“You’re always staring.” She pushed herself up and reached for her phone on the nightstand. “Come on. We’ll be late.”
We brushed our teeth side by side at the double sink, which had been my favorite thing about mornings for four weeks running. She had a system — face wash first, then
