FIFTY-THREE

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The daisy can represent many things. For such an everyday flower in every green part of the country, it can represent so much. When I told Nick it was my favourite flower all those months ago, I meant it was my favourite flower because it was a humble beauty. When he came back and told me what it meant, I did my own research.

The daisy was Norse God, Freya's sacred flower. She was the God of love, beauty, and fertility, and because of that, the daisy represents childbirth, motherhood, and, as Nick told me, new beginnings.

So, when Nick calls me his daisy now, it means more than just because I symbolise a new beginning for both of us, and more than just a flower. When he told me that Georgina's favourite flower was the daisy, I wonder why she chose it.

"You okay, my daisy?" Nick asks.

I shuffle back and get tight in the spooning position as much as possible.

"Can I ask you something?" I question quietly.

"Never!"

"Okay, night then!" I snort.

He grabs my sides to tickle them, and the minute I yelp in laughter, he kisses my shoulder blade.

"Ask away," he whispers.

"I wanted to ask about Georgina—"

"Great post-sex talk, Aspen!" He snorts. "I'm joking, of course, you can ask."

I chuckle. "If you're going to talk about post or pre-sex conversation, I can bring up a few times where you've gone into stuff—"

He chuckles, and we move position so I can lean my head against his chest. "Ask your questions before I tickle the hell out of you."

I grin before turning serious for my question. "It's just been on my mind lately, especially now we're engaged and been together a while... I remember you saying how I remind you of her."

He sighs. I can hear his heart going into overtime in his chest, and my hand runs patterns on his skin; smooth, warm, and perfect.

"I feel awkward for asking this, but did you ever call her 'my daisy'? I just... I'm not jealous, I'm just interested," I ask. Immediately, I hate my own words, but I know he won't take it like that. He's far more open and honest than Joel ever was.

He chuckles lightly at my question. "No, I never called her that. The nickname is especially for you. It... It's... it's not like that, Aspen. When I see her in you, it's more about... I guess the only way I can explain it is by telling you about her," he says. I nod against his chest for him to carry on.

"Tell me. I want to know about her."

Nick sighs. "Okay... when she was what, eleven years old... she was this quiet, reserved kid. She had one or two friends but mainly sat on the side-lines to read or whatever. Because of that, a few of the popular kids would bully her. Mainly two boys, you know, think they're better than everyone else. Complete dicks. Probably grown up to be spiteful little shits. Anyway... our parents didn't see it, but I could see some changes in her as it went on. She became more and more reserved at home. At home, she was usually talkative, happy, and she progressively got quieter and unsure."

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