Page 163 of Dare to Love Me

“I’m not doing some barefoot spiritual grounding nonsense, if that’s what you’re leading up to.”

“God no, you’re not ready for that. Baby steps. Rule number two is simple, forget you’re a surgeon for a little while. You are a mere mortal man. One with a very nice penis.”

She shifts onto her knees and takes off my shoes and socks, looking pleased with herself.

“Stripped of my medical degree and reduced to mere genital appreciation. Wonderful.” I chuckle. “But I’ll try.”

“Good. We’re going to have a simple day. We’ll start with the picnic, then a nice long walk around Hampstead Heath, hit every viewpoint so we earn our meal, and then . . .” She grins. “Then we’re going to a pub. A proper pub. No pretentious wine bars. Just a cozy spot that doesn’t care if you show up with half the heath caked on your shoes.”

I let out a slow breath, something loosening in my ribcage. “That sounds good to me.”

She beams, and I don’t think she realizes how much that does to me.

I wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her close, pressing my lips against her hair. “Thank you, darling.”

She tilts her chin, eyes shining. “All I did was put together a picnic.”

I shake my head, letting myself smile as I kiss her properly this time, pulling her into my arms. “You do more than that for me.”

She catches her bottom lip between her teeth, eyes searching mine. “Edward . . . I’ve really missed you.”

It’s been a week since I last saw her, but I get it. I feel it too.

“I’ve really missed you too,” I murmur, the words slipping out without hesitation.

She sighs, tucking herself into me. “I wish we had more time during the week.”

“I wish so too.”

“Sometimes I wish you were a binman so I could see you more often.”

I huff out a laugh, thinking about the Cavendish fortune—2.9 billion. “You’re the first woman who’s ever said that to me.”

Her giggle is muffled against my shoulder.

“I know you’re trying,” I say, my voice quieter now. “Respecting my schedule. The nights you have off, you’re in bed by ten because of me. I’d understand if you wanted to—” I exhale, searching for the words. “I don’t know, go out more. Nightclubs. Late nights. Havefun.”

She pulls back just enough to look at me properly. “I do have fun with you.” A small shake of her head. “I rarely want to go to nightclubs. That night . . . that was just an emotional response to dinner.”

I nod. “Okay. I hope I don’t cause that kind of emotional response again.”

She gives me a look—part amused, part exasperated. “Edward, emotional responses happen. We’re human.” Her palm flattens against my chest, warm, grounding. “Speaking of which . . . this is a really rough day for you.”

She watches me for a moment, then glances away, exhaling slowly. “Do you think Millie would approve of me? I mean, Iknow she met me, but back then I was just Sophia’s dumbass mate. Do you think she’d still think that?”

“Millie never thought that about you. She saw the good in everyone. And you . . .” I pause, looking at her. “You’ve got me having a picnic on the grass, Daisy. I think Millie would give her blessing.”

She exhales, letting her eyes close for a brief moment. “That means a lot to me.”

Before I can respond, the quiet between us is interrupted by the sharp crunch of footsteps storming up the hill, the sound abrupt enough to pull both our gazes toward the source. A man storms into view, his shoulders squared, fists clenched like he’s itching to swing at something. Behind him, a woman hurries to keep up, her face pinched with exasperation.

Next to me, Daisy stiffens, her breath catching before a shaky laugh spills out. “Jesus, I thought that was Charlie for a second.”

I squint at the guy—his stiff posture, the sharp lines of his suit, that dark mop of hair that, if you don’t look too hard, could pass for my brother’s.

“It does look like him,” I admit, a familiar frustration coiling tight in my chest—the same one that lingers every time I think about what happened between them. What was allowed to happen.

I turn to her. “Daisy,” I say, my voice low as I reach for her hand. “I need you to know that I’m sorry.” I sweep my thumb across her knuckles. “For how he treated you. It was unacceptable, and you deserved better than that.” I exhale, my grip firming slightly around hers. “I had words with him, but he didn’t listen. The damage was already done.”