Some Kind of Perfect (Calloway Sisters #4.5) (48 page)

“She’s checking on all the fucking kids at camp.” Daisy isn’t the camp director. She’s the owner, so she’s not there full-time in the summer. But during the two-week and month-long sessions for campers, Daisy will attend their Spirit Days, which are really a kid’s last three days at Camp Calloway. It’s filled with more celebration and activities, including hanging out with Daisy, a world-famous celebrity.

Sulli began crying. “But she’s my fairy godmother…”

Dais and Sulli play dress-up when our daughter wants. If I ever join them, I’m the fucking pirate who says bad words. I didn’t think Sullivan would declare today as mermaid day, but she misses Dais. There’s a gaping hole in our lives when she’s not around.

Sulli blubbers out, “I thought she’d be back. Can you tell her to come home soon? Please, Daddy. Will she come home?”

When Sulli cries, my heart caves. My world fucking caves.
I
cave.

How do I cheer up my fucking daughter?

Simple.

I became the fairy fucking godmother.

In less than a minute, her tears stopped, she led me to her trunk of trinkets, and she passed me Daisy’s pink tutu outfit and purple paper wand.

It’s what I wear now. I squeezed the fuck into my wife’s leotard, thankful she’s tall or else there would’ve been
no
way this would’ve worked.

Sulli called me the grumpy fairy, like there are seven of us. Now we’re eating breakfast in the quiet cottage on the living room floor. Sullivan nibbles on a tangerine slice and rattles off more questions.

“What is water made of?”

“Molecules.” I say before eating another spoonful of cereal.

“Why are molecules cold?”

“Ask your fucking uncle.”

“Why does Uncle Connor know everything?”

“Because he’s a fucking know-it-all.” I wipe my mouth with my arm, my brows scrunching as Sulli rolls onto her back.

She peeks beneath the waistband of her mermaid skirt. “Daddy?” Concern spikes her voice. I’m about to scoot closer and pull her off the mound of pillows, but she asks, “Where did my hair go down there?”

Fucking fuck.

Before I changed into this fairy outfit, I thought she’d been staring at the trail of hair that runs from my belly button and disappears beneath the band of my track pants.

“You’re too fucking young to have hair down there.”

She pouts sadly and keeps staring beneath her skirt. “Will it come soon?”

“No.”
Fuck no.
I’m not ready for her to go from
four
to fucking
puberty
yet. I seriously feel like she was just born yesterday. Truth is, I can’t imagine seeing her as anything other than my
little
girl.

I sip the milk from my bowl, set it aside, and text Dais:
how do you feel?

Right when I press send, my phone beeps with an incoming message.

Ryke…
– Lo

I cancelled on the gym this morning with my brother and Connor because Sulli was upset. That one text skyrockets my nerves.

What’s wrong?
I send it. A second beep.

Groovy :)
– Daisy

I’d smile more if my little brother didn’t just send me a random ass text. Third beep.

Can you come to the gym?
– Lo

Something’s wrong.

I don’t think twice. I just act. “Want to go for a fucking ride, Sulli?” I’m already lifting her off the pillows.

Sulli nods rapidly and spits out her tangerine.

I practically storm out the fucking door.

* * *

I only remember I’m in a fucking leotard and tutu when I park my Land Cruiser at the gym. Four
cameramen are waiting by the curb.

“Fuck,” I curse, unbuckling. I turn to the backseat, searching for a pair of pants.

Sullivan waits patiently in her car seat, not afraid of the paparazzi because of Daisy’s Shell Time TV game, but she’s not friendly towards them either.
Don’t fucking talk to strangers
, we’ve repeated to Sulli a thousand fucking times.

Ropes. Carabineers. A fucking climbing helmet but no change of clothes. “Fuck it.” I open my door to intense hollering and camera flashes.

I’m on an
ignore
and
fuck off
setting. I open the passenger door and start unbuckling Sulli, her hands pressed over her ears because of this:

“RYKE!”

“TURN AROUND, RYKE!”

“RYKE, RIGHT HERE!! OVER HERE!”

“SULLIVAN! OVER HERE!!”

“LET’S SEE YOU SMILE, SULLIVAN!” More paparazzi start pulling up in the half-filled parking lot.

I lift Sulli out of the seat. I’d like to carry her inside, but she asks softly, “Can I walk, Daddy?” I put her down on her feet, and she takes my hand.

At this point, the pink leotard rides up my fucking ass, but it’s not even on my list of concerns. One cameraman almost cuts in front of us.

“Back
the fuck
up,” I curse and another cameraman grabs that guy’s shirt, pulling him out of our way.

“He’s new!” someone shouts, disassociating with that other guy.

That’s it.
I pick Sulli up in my arms.

“Daddy.” She wiggles to be set down.

“Just until we go in, Sul.” Two seconds later, I’m pushing open the doors. The gym is sort of fucking empty, but everyone still looks towards us. Even if I didn’t wear this costume, I’d still be stared at.

“W
ooow
.” Sulli gawks at the rows of equipment. From ellipticals to treadmills to stair climbers. She’s never been in a gym like this one before.

Like I promised, I put her down and then guide her towards the weight benches in the back. I find my little brother on one, Connor spotting.

I scan both of them quickly, but they seem…fine.

“Hey!” I shout angrily.

Lo turns his head, wide-eyed with a
what the actual fuck
expression—his arms give out. My lungs plummet
until Connor seizes the bar, right before it can hit Lo’s chest.

I let out a tight fucking breath.

Lo sits up and motions to me, then to himself, then to Sulli, back to me. He bursts into a smile. “Is it my birthday? Because it’s either Halloween or you forgot to tell me you’ve become a part-time ballerina.”

“He’s my grumpy fairy godmother,” Sulli explains, smiling up at me.

“Only one-third accurate,” Connor says, wiping his hands on a towel.

“Two-thirds goddamn classic.” Lo takes a photo of me.

I don’t mind.

“Uncle Connor?” Sulli walks closer to him but then notices a shiny barbell and heads that way. Still, she asks, “Why are molocooles wet?” She forgets how to say
molecules
, and he doesn’t have to answer because she tries to pick up the fucking barbell.

I’m already pulling her back a foot or two.

She looks at me like
can I touch?

I crouch, pick up the weight, and let her look at it. At this, I focus on my little brother. “What’s going on with you?”

“With me?” Lo pockets his phone and uncaps his water bottle. “You’re the one who showed up in a tutu. Were paparazzi still outside?”

“I don’t fucking care.” I don’t care about the tabloids or my costume. I care about my little brother. “What’s wrong? You texted
me
.” My jaw hardens.

His face falls. “Christ…you ran over here, didn’t you?” Guilt eats at him for a quick second, and he rubs the back of his neck.

“I’d fucking do it again. You okay?”

“Yeah. I just wanted you here, not
need
. Just want.” He watches Sulli put her ear to the barbell like she does conch shells. “Do I need to start putting SOS in my texts so you can tell when I’m dying?”

I groan, “No. I only need one Lily in my fucking life.”

Connor banters, “SOS I can’t find the remote.”

Lo laughs because that was an actual fucking group text Lily sent when we all lived together. “SOS Ryke has a leotard wedgie.”

“Like father, like daughter,” Connor muses, referring to Sulli’s famous wedgie picture.

I shake my head. “Fuck you and fuck you too.”

Sulli pats the barbell. “Fuck me!”

Fucking fuck.

“Ohh, shit.” Lo winces.

Connor lets nothing pass his features. I rub my temple and say strongly, “Hey, Sulli. Don’t ever say that again. That’s fucking
bad.
”

It’s hard because I can’t tell when I curse until five seconds later, and even then, I have to
think
about it. Sullivan frowns, not understanding.

Lo proclaims, “I will go batshit crazy if Luna says that.”

“Not fucking helping.” I run my hand over my face once and then figure this out. “Every time you say bad words, you have to eat another veggie.”

“No.” Her lips downturn. “Daddy…”

I hear my brother whisper to Connor, “He’s a sucker for this.”

“Give him a minute.”

“One vegetable,” I say. “That’s it, sweetie.” It’s my fucking fault she curses, and she acts like I’m subjecting her to criminal punishment.

“Okay,” she says so fucking sadly. I almost tell her
never mind, we’ll let this one pass
, but then I glance at my brother and he mouths,
law, lay it down
—and he mimes a gavel.

So I kiss the top of her head and stand up.

Lo starts slow clapping. “Progress.”

Connor joins the slow-clap. “
Minimal
progress.”

I have to bite my tongue from calling them
prick
and
major prick.
“You’re lucky Sulli’s here.”

Connor, who usually pisses all over the word
luck
, lets it slide this time.

“Damn right,” my little brother says, “or else we would’ve missed this.” Lo never motions to my costume.

His words burrow much deeper than right here and right now.

* * *

Day two without Daisy, and I miss her like fucking crazy. I wake up around 5:00 a.m. again, my blankets not rumpled, not fucking entangled like someone kicked and rolled and turned. The bed never squeaks.

I don’t see her fucking smile or hear Nutty scuttle around while checking each and every door. The white husky stays with Dais at Camp Calloway. The thought slowly hardens my jaw.

I’m jealous of a fucking dog.

I scratch at my disheveled hair, the dark room quiet and fucking lonely.

Truth is, before we had Sulli, Daisy and I could be apart and communicate fine through text, maybe a two-minute phone call here and there—but we never
needed
to be together at all times like my brother and Lily. I feel the change in us.

No one will ever be like Lily and Lo, but for fuck’s sake—I
miss
Daisy like I haven’t seen her in a year, and it’s been two fucking days. I rub my face, trying to snap out of it, but I’m certain that once I see Sulli, Daisy’s absence will slam at me all over again.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, feet on the floor, I grab my phone off the fucking nightstand. Green paper lanterns sway overhead with the hum
of the ceiling fan. I click on my first contact and press
FaceTime.
So the screen isn’t pitch-black,
I flip on fucking lights and then return to my same spot.

Daisy answers on the second ring, and I instantly meet sunny, green eyes amid dimly-lit surroundings. She moves back-and-forth, her hair in a messy fucking bun, and the longer I search her features, the greater her smile expands. Frogs croak softly and birds chirp in the fucking background, the sun not yet risen, but wherever she is outside, a lamp must illuminate her.

“Hey there,” she whispers, resting her cheek on her hand, grasping rope?

She’s swinging
, I realize.

I picture her alone in the quiet, gentle fucking morning, swinging beside the lake. Racks of kayaks nearby, campers still sleeping while she’s wide awake.

She can’t restrain her smile. “You’ve missed me?”

More than you fucking know.
I wear the answer all over my face. “How’d you fucking sleep?” I rest my forearms on my thighs, bent forward as I peer at my phone.

“Mmm,” she practically fucking moans. “The best I’ve had.”

My brows rise, disbelieving that it’s the fucking
best
ever. “That so, Calloway?”

She laughs, not able to pretend for long. “The best for not being at home with you. I slept for a good six hours. I only woke up a couple times.” Daisy adjusts her phone and chucks something. She rotates the camera. Nutty bounds towards the lake, paws splashing water, and then the husky enthusiastically brings a stick back to Daisy.