Page 81 of Dare to Love Me

“—and,” I add, “let’s not forget you stole my bloody car.”

She huffs sharply. “That wasonetime.”

“Shall I spare you the list of other stunts in the same vein?”

Her scowl could burn holes through me.

“But,” I say, softening a bit, “you’re also the one person who keeps her grounded more than anyone else.”

She blinks, caught off guard, surprise flashing across her face before she reins it in, setting her wineglass down like she’s gearing up for more.

“Fine,” she snaps. “What about Charlie, then? You don’t think I’m good enough for him.”

“That’s not true.” A knot tightens my chest.

“You said I wasn’t right for him,” she fires back. “I heard you. With my own ears. Don’t you dare deny it.”

I freeze, words stuck in my throat. I can’t tell her the truth—Charlie was messing around with other people while they were together. She doesn’t need that dumped on her.

As much as she might think otherwise, I never wanted to hurt her. Quite the opposite.

“It wasn’t about you,” I say finally. “I was interfering in my brother’s life. It’s what older brothers do.”

She lets out a short, sharp breath, shaking her head. “Doesn’t matter now anyway. Stupid thing is, I don’t even love Charlie anymore—haven’t for ages. But god, I’m so tired of being theafterthought, you know? Good enough for late-night telly, but only at two a.m. Hot enough to shag—sorry, probably shouldn’t say that in a church—but never quite good enough to take home to Mummy. And the worst bit?”

She exhales, giving a sharp, humorless laugh. “I can’t even blame anyone else. I was a joke to myself long before these showed up.”

She gestures vaguely at her chest, trying to make light of something that clearly isn’t light at all.

And for the first time, I realize:she actually believes it.

She’s looking anywhere but at me, as if revealing this vulnerability to me is somehow worse than the confession itself.

“Daisy. Look at me.”

She turns.

The light catches her eyes, and—Christ—it knocks the breath out of me.

“You’re wrong,” I say. “You might think I’m an arrogant ass—I won’t argue the point—and yes, you have . . .” I clear my throat. “You have rather lovely attributes.” Her lips twitch at that. “But if that’s all people see, then they’re the ones who should feel ashamed. You can’t dictate what other people choose to value, Daisy. But youcandecide whose values are worth a damn.”

I gesture toward the church garden where the congregation mills about. “Do you want to know something? You terrify them. Because you refuse to play by their rules, and all their money can’t buy what comes to you naturally.”

Her brows knit, like she’s not sure if I’m serious. “What? Tits and a nice ass? A quick flight to Thailand can sort that out.”

“Joy,” I say simply. “There’s enough joy in you to light up every person in that congregation.”

She stills. Cheeks flushed. Breath catching. And for once, Daisy Wilson, the woman with a quip for every occasion, has nothing to say.

“Sophia is lucky to have you as a friend. And I don’t say that lightly.”

She swallows. “She is?”

“Undoubtedly. In fact, we’realllucky.”

“We . . . Even you?”

“Especially me.”