Addicted After All (34 page)

I crane my neck to see the oven clock behind Connor. “It’s already noon.”

“It’s Saturday,” Ryke refutes, opening the cupboard. He doesn’t work, and he rock climbs on random days, so I have no idea when he’s going to wake up at the crack of dawn or sleep in. I bet Connor can predict him though. “And you’re eating breakfast, so why harp on me?”

“Someone didn’t get laid last night,” I say.

He shoots me a dark look while he grabs his box of granola cereal. “It’s a little hard getting a girl off when you have a baby wailing every five fucking minutes.”

 Connor pipes in, “Every five minutes? Do you exaggerate about your climbing times too?”

Ryke flips him off, but Connor still passes him a bowl for his cereal and Ryke accepts it.

When Ryke glowers with sunken eyes, he appears more serious. “Look, Daisy already has sleep problems. She doesn’t need a baby adding to that. I can have a bad fucking night’s sleep fine, but hers just pile up.”

When he pours his cereal, a couple pieces of granola hit the bowl and then the grainy dust plumes like flour. He reached the bottom of the box.

He slowly turns to glare at me and my breakfast, which was the last of his cereal apparently.

“It tastes like cardboard,” I tell him. “Honestly, I don’t know how you can eat this regularly.”

“Then why the fuck are you eating it, man?” he growls in distress.

“Because it’s the only cereal left in the house and I was hungry,” I defend. “Buy some Cheerios or Frosted Flakes like a normal person.”

“There’s too much sugar in—you know what, fucking eat it. If you have the shits, that’s fucking karma for you.”

 I practically finished the cereal before he walked into the kitchen, but I’ve eaten it before fine. It doesn’t contain that much fiber.

Ryke retrieves the orange juice from the fridge instead. “Daisy and I are moving to the basement tonight.”

I’m surprised it’s taken him four weeks to reach this decision.

“You can take the master on this floor,” Connor says. “It’s vacant.”

Ryke shakes his head. “Rose still uses the closet space, and Daisy doesn’t want to take that from her.”

“Just have a baby,” I banter, setting my bowl in the sink. “Then you can justify getting shit sleep.” I catch sight of a
Celebrity Crush
magazine by the coffee pot, something I’m sure Lily bought. I pick it up to trash it.

Ryke retorts, “That’s not going to happen any time soon.”

My brows rise, realizing he didn’t discount it entirely. “You want kids?”

“
Not any time soon
,” he emphasizes this point. “I haven’t even been with her for a year yet, anything can happen.” I watch his features darken, and he knocks the empty cereal box over, just frustrated. Hale Co. is putting strain on his relationship. I can tell he’s dreading the “anything can happen” future.

I head to the pantry to toss the magazine, and before I do, I catch one of the smaller headlines on the cover:
[POLL] Who makes the better mother: Lily Calloway or Rose Cobalt?

Great. Like Lily hasn’t been comparing herself more to Rose as the weeks go by. It’s not healthy. Rose has faults, but they’re much different than Lily’s, and any way you look at it—Lily somehow always falls short in comparison. At least in terms of motherhood.

Which is just shit.

Has anyone heard the crap that comes out of Rose’s mouth about kids? Not really. The reality show didn’t show most of it, and the interviews that we do (from Samantha’s persistence to keep us relevant) are usually censored. Meaning the Calloway’s publicists will tell the journalists
not
to ask Rose about kids. Because Rose has no filter and will probably call them monsters to the entire goddamn world.

She even calls Jane a little gremlin from time to time. Oddly, it does sound affectionate in an “ice-queen slowly thawing” kind of way, but I don’t think the general public would pick up on that.

I open the article, just to see the results of the poll and torture myself. Maybe Lily is rubbing off on me.

Who makes the better mother?

Lily: 46%

Rose: 54%

My blood goes from a boil to a simmer. It’s not a landslide like I thought. I check above the poll, and realize they labeled the girls with their pros and cons. I scan Lily’s first.

Con: sex addict, in a three-way relationship (rumored), boyfriend is an alcoholic

Pro: successful business, sweet, loves her long-term boyfriend (and her rumored second bf)

My teeth ache, and I realize I’m clenching them too hard. I go through Rose’s list.

Con: sex tapes

Pro: successful boutique, married, A-type personality

How the hell is A-type personality even on here? Rose will be great at keeping track of her kid’s schedule; I’ll give her that. I’m pissed at myself for even entertaining this article. I chuck it in the trash and return to Connor and Ryke about the same time that Rose struts into the kitchen.

“Baby in the room,” she says, cradling her newborn with one arm and holding an empty bottle with the other. Her hair is damp like she just took a shower and didn’t have time to blow it dry.

“When you have eight children, are you going to announce each of their entrances too?” I banter.

Rose gives me a long glare as she makes her way to the refrigerator to grab another bottle.

“I’m just trying to prepare myself,” I say.

“You won’t have to prepare for eight kids. It’s not happening,” she retorts. Connor opens his mouth, and she raises the hand with the bottle to silence him.

“That would be more effective if you actually covered my mouth, darling.”

“Don’t make me hurt you,” she snaps, and Jane lets out a noise close to a giggle. Rose is smiling from ear to ear, a smile that I’ve pretty much never seen from her.

“Ugh, stop,” I say, shielding my eyes. “It’s creepy.”

“I love my daughter,” she says adamantly. Jane does bring out something in Rose, a lighter side of her that’s hard to spot sometimes. But she’s still the same, so I wait for it. “She may mutter inarticulately, vomit on me, and look clueless until a certain stage of her life, but she’s my unintelligible thing.”

I bow. “I’m sorry, your highness.”

Rose rolls her eyes, but there’s a smile in them.

“I’ll swap you,” Connor tells his wife. “Baby for bags.”

Her eyes pierce him, even if she’s not on the offensive. “What bags?”

I just now notice the Chanel and Dior shopping bags beside Connor’s feet. Of course he went to the stores this morning. Rose’s demeanor shifts, her back no longer arched, and I worry she might chuck the baby in Connor’s arms.

Jane lets out another squeal of delight, kicking her legs that are clothed in a green onesie. Orange tabby cats printed along the arms. And we all smile. She’s ridiculously cute, even if she’s spawned from Rose’s womb.

“Looks like she’s already inherited Rose’s love of fancy things,” I say.

“She’s a baby,” Rose tells me. Instead of hatred, the word “baby” is filled with mild disdain. “She doesn’t know what we’re even talking about.”

I feign surprise. “So you’re admitting that you don’t have a genius child?” I turn to Ryke. “Did hell freeze over this morning?”

Before Ryke even reacts, Rose speaks. “I’m admitting that my child isn’t superhuman.” Rose hands Jane off to Connor and then goes for the shopping bags.

“With Rose and my genes, she’s still very likely a genius,” Connor adds.

Yeah. I know.

Rose unwraps her bags at the bar, the first item: a black silk blouse, one that Rose delicately folds into its original paper after examining it.

I nudge Ryke. “What’s Daisy doing this weekend?” I genuinely care about other people’s everyday lives—it’s bizarre. Something I never saw four years ago, addicted and selfish.

Ryke just casually shrugs. “I don’t know.” He takes a swig of his orange juice from the carton. Rose is too busy fawning over her gifts to notice my brother’s bad habits.

“What do you mean?” I ask him. “You’re dating her.”

“We like our fucking space.”

Rose straightens at the sound of the f-bomb, and I punch Ryke’s arm with force. He winces, since that spot is tender for him now.

“I forgot,” he tells Rose, not even bothering to rub his bicep.

“I don’t care if she swears when she’s older,” Rose tells him. “I just don’t want her first word to be
fuck
.”

“My sentiments align with Rose’s,” Connor adds, his daughter falling asleep in his arms as he rocks her.

We have a system in place: punch Ryke every time he curses in front of the baby. It’s fun for all of us but him, and so far it’s not really working that well. His arm was bruised the entire first week Jane was home, and he
still
has trouble training himself to keep it clean.

“I’m trying my best,” he says.

Rose nods. “I appreciate it.” She returns to her clothes, and I backtrack to my initial conversation with Ryke.

“You like your space?” My brows furrow. “I don’t get it. Are you taking a break or something?”

“What?” Lily’s voice echoes from the doorway, and she enters the kitchen with eyes like saucers. It doesn’t help that she wears her Wampa cap, dinosaur slippers, black cotton pajamas and a fur coat. “You’re on-on a…” Her green eyes somehow grow wider. “…a
break?
” Shit.

“For fuck’s sake—”

I punch his arm, and he lets out an exasperated sound. It’s the system in place. I can’t help that. “Sorry, bro.”

He sighs. “We’re just not keeping tabs on each other. We’re still together. We’re still fu—
screwing
.” He turns to me and points. “Do not effing punch me.”

I clap. “You managed to avoid an f-bomb. Barely.”

“Progress,” Connor chimes in with a smile. Ryke even looks surprised by the compliment, not even a backhanded one. Maybe he can tell Ryke’s seriously frustrated today.

Lily walks further in the kitchen. “Are you sure, Ryke?”

“Yeah, Lil,” he tells her, sincerely. “We’re not like you and Lo, okay? We like to give each other room to breathe.”

“We breathe,” Lily defends our relationship. My brows rise. Let’s not kid ourselves. We struggle with our codependency on a daily basis.

“What in the world are you wearing?” Rose asks her sister. Lily waddles her way to the fridge. I want to wrap my arms around her and pull her close to my chest. I hesitate because A) we just had sex and I’d rather not tease her too much and B) that codependency, room to breathe thing.

“It’s cold in here,” Lily explains.

Everyone looks to Ryke, the person who constantly lowers the thermostat. He glowers. “It’s summer. It gets hot.”

Lily shuts the refrigerator door, empty-handed, and snatches a banana from the countertop. “I also have an announcement.”

Everyone quiets, and I go rigid. Whatever it is, she hasn’t told me. Her eyes flit to mine briefly before they focus on her sister. “I’m going to remain inside the house until I have the baby. I can’t risk having a limo-delivery. The only times I’ll leave are for doctor appointments.”

Fine with me. Knowing she’ll be at home actually eases my worries. Someone will always be here with her.

“So that’s the real reason you’re dressed like the abominable snowman in July,” Ryke says like it’s not his fault for keeping the house cold if she doesn’t meet the light of day.

Lily shoots him a middle finger and begins unpeeling her banana. I grin. God, I love this girl.

“Hey, guys.” Daisy slips into the kitchen with a yawn. “What’s everyone doing today?” Her hair is still platinum-blonde, but she wears it in a braid. She hangs around by the stove, putting distance between herself and Ryke.

“Taking care of a baby,” Rose says easily.

“I have her, darling,” Connor replies. “You can spend the day with your sisters.”

Rose speaks in French with Connor at this, and Lily eats her banana slowly, watching them talk in the foreign language with no real clue what they’re saying. And then she focuses on Ryke and Daisy, and I see the fear flash in Lil’s eyes. No one wants their relationship to work more than her.

“Can you two just hug it out?” I tell my brother and Lily’s little sister.

Daisy breaks into a charismatic smile, and she faces her boyfriend. “Do you want to hug me?” she asks playfully.

“No,” he deadpans. He better be sarcastic, and I hate that I can’t tell.

Daisy only smiles more and she stretches her arms out on the counter. “Do you want to…” And she mouths,
fuck me
?

Oh shit.

“Every fucking minute, Calloway.”

I punch his arm, and he turns around and decks my bicep with the same force. “Jesus Christ,” I curse. And he double taps me again for those words. Shit.

“It hurts, doesn’t it?” he tells me.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” I wave him off. It’s better than a swear jar. Money isn’t a big enough penalty.

Lily is still entranced by Ryke and Daisy. After a couple seconds, I catch her attention, and her gaze falls on mine. I motion between us with my hand, and then I make a crude gesture with my mouth and my tongue. I watch her freeze, the banana mid-air while her face flushes in a deep shade of red.

Her eyes dance around the room, checking to see if anyone is watching us. They aren’t.

And then she points to her chest and mouths,
me?

I nod.
Yes, Lil. You.
Two more seconds later, I close the space between us and I have her wrapped in my arms. These are the kind of embraces I live for.

{ 33 }

LILY CALLOWAY

Still no photos of Jane Cobalt.

The headline on today’s
Celebrity Crush
article has Rose full of glee. Since Jane was born, she’s been on a mission to keep her daughter away from paparazzi. Yesterday, Rose stepped outside the gated neighborhood with Jane, taking her to the Calloway Couture boutique, and cameramen swarmed her.

I know this, not from firsthand account, but watching entertainment news. In the video, it looked like Rose was walking through a concert festival of photographers, just to reach the front doors of her store. I hadn’t seen her so protective and mad in a long time. If she wasn’t holding Jane to her chest—the baby shrouded by a blanket—she would’ve definitely nut-kicked a guy.