He exhaled. “We both know you should win. We know it.”
But. That last word went unspoken.
She looked him in the eyes. “We both know I won’t.”
He shut his eyes.
“I’m not stupid,” Daisy said. “Just ambitious.”
“If we’d found ourselves here together, earlier,” Crash said, “things might be different. I’d saved money, you know. But I’ve already committed what funds I have to a first order of velocipedes. They’ll arrive in two months, and what I have left needs to be spent a lease. If I had known then, I might have made different choices. But if tomorrow goes as…”
He couldn’t make himself say it.
Daisy sat up. “You were right,” she said. “You were entirely right when you told me I lied to myself.”
“No, Daisy…”
She didn’t look at him. “I’ve spent all these years telling myself I won’t get my wishes. My little game with Judith saved me from disappointment. It let me label my every wish as foolish and insubstantial. Impossible. A game. A dream of things that would never come to pass. I believed I would never get anything I wanted.”
“That won’t happen. I won’t let it happen.”
She folded her arms around her legs.
“No. I won’t let it happen. This wish, Crash?” Her voice shook. “This one? This wish for Daisy’s Emporium? I tried not to let it sink its hooks into me. I tried not to want it too hard. But it’s too late. I want it. I want it so much I can taste it.”
He slid toward her, putting his arm around her.
“You were telling me that I can believe in you,” Daisy said. “That you’d never hurt me. I know you won’t. What I don’t know is…” Her voice shook. “Is whether I can believe in myself.”
“Oh.” He hurt, looking at her. “Oh, Daisy.”
She gave a little sniff and looked at him. That determined look came into her eye—the one that he’d seen when they’d first met. He’d fallen in love with her then.
“But I will.” Her chin squared. “I need to. I need to believe that I can do this. That if I just pedal fast enough, I won’t fall. Not this time.”
“Daisy.”
She set her hand on his shoulder. “I won’t come to you feeling myself a failure. I want to prove that I can do this. Ask me what our future holds after I’ve won my own destiny. Ask me after I’ve accomplished everything I never believed I could really prove.”
He felt a hint of panic. She was walking away. Again. Telling him he wasn’t good enough, that he couldn’t be enough for her…
“I need to go fast,” she said. “I need to pedal with all my might. I cannot go as fast as I need if you are there to hold me up.”
“Are you saying that I’ll hold you back?”
She looked back at him, not saying a word.
He inhaled, swallowed the indignant response that leapt to his lips. Swallowed the pain. The part of him that wanted to argue, to make her listen, to…
To do what he’d done last time.
He blew out a breath instead. “I think,” he said after a moment, “that you also need to know.” He swallowed. “Last time we found ourselves here, talking of the future, things went…badly.”
Her eyes darted to her hands.
“I think you need to know,” he said, “that I won’t hurt you again. That this time, I’ll listen.”
Her eyes widened a moment, and then shut. “Maybe. Maybe that, too.”
He slid his arm around her. He didn’t want to say the next words. Not with all they could entail. But he had to do it. “I’ll never hold you back. Never. Not even if it means letting you go.”
He didn’t let go, not right away, and she didn’t move away. Not for minutes. He did his best to memorize the scent of her, the complex smell of lavender soap and something sweet beneath that. He committed the feel of her skin, smooth and soft, to his store of thoughts. He learned the shape of her in his arms by heart. Just in case.
They sat there, holding one another, until the last bit of sun disappeared from his window, cloaking them in darkness.
“Go, Daisy,” he finally said. “Go fast. Don’t stop. I’ll see you tomorrow after the competition.”
Chapter Nine
Daisy woke on the day of the final presentation in the hours that were too dark to properly be called morning. The world seemed preternaturally still. When she peered through the curtains, the street she looked out on was cloaked in fog.
She could almost pretend the building across the way had vanished. That her entire uncertain future had been swallowed in mist. There was nobody but her, her and her mother. In that moment, winning seemed possible.
Likely, even.
I could win. The thought threaded through her like the bright ribbon she wove through her hair. I could win.
This irrational hope did not vanish. Not as the sun crept to the horizon, spilling pink mist down the street. Not as she dressed, doing up her buttons, making sure she looked like a respectable, sober woman who could start a business and succeed.
I could win.
She felt as if she were on a velocipede, the wind whipping around her face as she pedaled with all her might. She felt as if her arms were wings. If she raised them, she might take flight. As long as she went fast enough, she’d never fall.
I could win.
She nurtured her treacherous, dangerous hope as she marched down the streets to the gathering. Those who were headed the same way saw her and whispered behind their hands.
She invented a conversation for them.
Look. That’s Miss Daisy Whitlaw. She could win.
When one of them let out a burst of explosive laughter, she smiled and nodded at them. They were laughing because they knew how ridiculous the other men would look when she won.
I can win, she told herself as people filled the square, sitting first on benches, then bunching in groups along the edges. The crowd grew large, then larger still, its noise a hum that tried to slide under her skin.
I can win.
I can win, she repeated as the grocer introduced the contenders. He lingered before introducing her.
“Finally, Mr. Daisy—” He stopped, pausing for the ugly laughter that erupted from the crowd. “Right. It’s Miss Daisy Whitlaw. Our favorite female.”
I can win. She wouldn’t let that little witticism destroy her confidence. Not this time. Not again.
I can win, she told herself as the other contenders gave their final speeches. The proposals were much improved over the course of the week, she had to admit. Viable, even. She applauded each one politely. But deep down, she knew the truth.
I can win.
No, more than that.
Mine is better. I should win.
The grocer called her to come to the front, and she squared her jaw.
I will win.
Daisy stood. As she did, the man next to her set his hand on her wrist. Her heart was already pounding; her throat was dry. She looked down at the fingers clawed into her cuff, followed the arm back to the glaring face of Mr. Flisk.
“There are men here with wives and children,” he hissed at her. “You’re making a spectacle of yourself with your selfishness.”
For a second, her throat dried. Selfishness. Spectacle.
Then she remembered how to ride a velocipede: look forward and pedal faster. She imagined his words bouncing off a glittering ball that surrounded her. And Daisy pulled her sleeve from his grasp and proceeded to the front.
The crowd seemed a hostile force, more so even than the time before. She looked over the sea of faces. A man in the front sniggered. Behind him, a woman sat with a stony face, her arms crossed in disapproval.
This time, they’d known she was going to be here, and they were prepared. A low murmur of unhappiness rose like a susurrus from the crowd.
It was not all that rose. She saw it coming as if in a dream. A potato flew through the air to splat rottenly on the boards in front of her.
“For shame!” someone called out. “For shame!”
Her stomach gave an involuntary lurch.
But there was nothing to do except go faster. Harder. She inhaled and rolled her shoulders back. Her chin went up an inch. Let them all hate her. She didn’t care. Except…