Addicted After All (45 page)

I shut the oak door behind her, the hollow parts of my stomach twisting in real knots. The last time I shared my mom’s company, alone, was years ago. I believed that I wasn’t vocal or strong enough to confront her, but I have a reason to try now.

She stands uncomfortable and rigid beside the floral-patterned couch.

“You can sit down if you want,” I instruct.

She chooses to stay upright. “Are you planning a date for your wedding?” It’s a safe topic. One that I’ve trained myself not to contemplate for long.

I lick my chapped lips. “No…”
Just tell her how you feel.
It’s not as easy as it seems.

She crosses her arms, scrutinizing all of the brass furnishings in the sunroom. “I think you should choose a date in the summer. May or June. It’ll give me plenty of time to plan it.” I follow her to the floor-length window; outside the leaves are dark green in the middle of August.

I swallow a lump. “I need to know something…”

She spins around, and her cold, daggered eyes zero in on mine. It’s not like Rose. She carries an air that says:
you are not what I wanted you to be.
“Yes? Speak.”

I muster the bits of courage inside of me to ask, “Why are you more interested in Jane than Maximoff? Is it because he’s my son?” The question is as pained as it sounds.

Her stoic face hardly fissures. “I’ve never had a boy, Lily. I’m more comfortable with Jane.” She pauses like there’s more, and she touches her dangly pearl earring in thought. My heart beats rapidly, waiting for a slice of the guillotine. “You…and I, we’ve had our differences. I don’t want to cause anymore unnecessary drama.”

This is partly my fault. I’ve been avoiding her too, and now it’s like we stand on two separate planes of existence. I miss the days where she would stick up for me if Rose was being too harsh. Where she’d cut in during family luncheons and ask me about college. I messed up. So badly.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I blame myself, every day, for what’s happened. And I don’t know what it’ll take for you to forgive me.” My eyes begin to sear with hot tears.

“Just time,” she says softly.

I shake my head. “It’s been years.” I stare up at her with glassy eyes, and her impenetrable defenses start to fracture. She can’t look at me anymore. Her gaze is on the shiny hardwood.

“I’ve forgiven you,” she says quietly, “but I can’t ever forget what your choices have done to this family. You almost collapsed your father’s entire business. And it’s taken a long time to reestablish the reputation we once had. It’s just messy, Lily.” She won’t look up at me.
Look up.

Tears spill down my cheeks. “Mom.” It raises her eyes for a second. And I say, “I’m sick.”

Her penciled eyebrows twitch, and her lips part at my words. I wait for her defensive nature to arise, but she’s more affected by me than I thought she’d be. Staying silent.

“When…I was little,” I begin, “I had sex because it made me feel like I was worth something. Because every time I was at home, I felt worthless.” My chin trembles. “I’m not trying to blame you. I take responsibility for everything I’ve done, but there was a piece of me that craved something…more. And I was desperately trying to find it.” I fiddle with my fingers. “Sex…made me feel better. Not whole. But better.”

I’ve rehearsed this speech a thousand times in my head. I’ve imagined her reaction a million different ways. Some indifferent. Others warm and apologetic. Standing here now, I wonder which one I’ll meet, which reality is mine.

Her eyes have reddened. “I don’t understand…” Her voice cracks. “I’m sorry.” I can’t tell if she’s apologizing for her confusion or more than that.

“You used to fawn over Poppy, Rose, and Daisy—”

“I thought you liked being with your father more,” she says, skimming a finger beneath her eye, skillfully not smudging her mascara. “He loved taking you to Fizzle’s offices, and Loren was your best friend…We gave you so much. It doesn’t make sense to me. I’m sorry, Lily.”

Water drips down my cheeks. Maybe our perceptions of our lives are too disjointed to ever fit together. Maybe we all think too differently to bridge at a common point. “Do you love me?” I ask.

She suddenly steps closer. And hugs me. Like a motherly embrace that I’ve seen her share with Daisy all the time. The one where she wraps her arms around me, placing a hand on my back. Her lips are near my ear as she says, “I’ve always loved you, Lily. You’re my daughter.” She draws back and brushes my tears away, careful to not poke me with her manicured nails. “I’m sorry if I didn’t show it in the way you wanted…”

It’s a backhanded apology, but one I cherish very much. Partly because I know it may be all I ever receive. “Can you stop punishing me for my mistakes?” I ask her, the avalanche of silent tears starting up again. “Please?”

She’s crying. Her hand falls, and she’s no longer attempting to dam her waterworks. She nods tensely. “You were always so shy when you were little…I thought it was better to let you be.”

“I just wanted to know that you cared.”

“I do care about you,” she says strongly, touching her chest. “I’m sorry…for things I may have said in the past. I was hurt…” She has this look in her eye that says:
I want things to be different.
I do too. For so long I’ve wanted that. But we’ve both just never confronted each other until now.

Years.

It took years for this moment to occur.

She strokes my short hair and asks, “What can we do to make this better?” Her arm is still around me. She sniffs loudly, something unladylike. But I’ve never seen my mother cry this much. I think all this time, we’ve just been viewing the same story through opposite lenses. My picture wasn’t hers. And even now, we’re not seeing exactly the same portrait, but at least it’s in the right frame.

That has to be enough. “I need to know that you’ll treat my son the way you treat Rose’s daughter. No favoritism.” That’s what I want most of all. “Is that possible?”

I wait for her answer with more hope in my heart than I’ve ever had before.

{ 46 }

LOREN HALE

I press my ear against the oak door, shoving Rose in the shoulder as she tries to wedge past me. I rushed downstairs when Connor told me that Lily was having “the” talk with her mom.

Their voices have quieted, barely audible through the wood. “Fuck,” Ryke curses as Rose elbows him in the ribs.

“Shhh, I can’t hear the rest,” Rose hisses.

“Children,” Connor says from the hallway. He leans against the charcoal-gray painted wall, watching the three of us fight for prime real estate against the door. “Patience is considered a virtue to some.”

Daisy sits on the ground beside him, eating a cherry popsicle as she watches us. “Just let Rose at the door, and she can translate for all of us.”

“We already tried that,” I remind Daisy. “She was terrible at it.” Rose delivered cliff notes half the time. And the other half, she didn’t even bother to relay the information.

Just as Rose opens her mouth to snap back, the door swings open. Samantha Calloway stands poised and rolls her eyes at the sight of us. It reminds me so much of Rose that I have to bite my tongue to swallow a retort. Comparing Rose to her mother, out loud, is a low blow that I’d like to avoid.

Anyway, I don’t believe Rose is
exactly
like Samantha. She’s more self-aware for starters. I listened to what Samantha had to say to Lily, and honestly, it was ass-backwards. Samantha should’ve apologized to Lil first. She should’ve admitted to treating her differently than her other daughters. But she just doesn’t get it. I don’t think she ever will.

There’s one thing I never want to do—and it’s be so blind to my kid’s life because I can’t see my own faults.

The room silences the longer Samantha lingers in the doorway. Despite seeming strict, her blush is tear-streaked and her eyes are red.

“Where are the babies?” Samantha asks, skirting past Rose’s body. “I want to see them before I go.”

Rose pulls away from the door. “They’re in the nursery. You can follow me there.” Rose cautiously glances back at Lily on her way out, but Lil is still hidden in the sunroom.

My pulse skips, and I force the door open wider. Lily sits on a wicker ottoman, her eyes swollen and her head hanging in exhaustion.

I slide between the door and Ryke’s chest, trying to enter the room. Lil rubs her eyes by the time I kneel in front of her, collecting her hands in mine. I kiss her cheek and whisper, “You did good, Lil. I’m proud of you.” She needed to confront her mom. The silence had been eating at her for years.

“She said she’s going to treat him just like Jane.” Lily sniffs before she cries heavily again. I stand and wrap my arms around her thin body, lifting her to her feet. She rests against my chest and stares up at me. “I never thought she’d try, but she said that she wants us to have a better relationship.”

I nod a couple times. “That’s good, Lil.” I’m always going to be cautious of Samantha. I can’t help it. My barriers will rise if Lil drops hers. And she should try to lower hers some. That’s her mom at the end of the day.

“I know she doesn’t understand me completely or what happened,” Lily whispers, her hands tightening around me. “But she can have her truth, and I can have mine. It’s better than a lifelong standstill.” She must be thinking of Moffy.

She’s willing to bury this fight for our son. Closing old wounds.

Our choices will affect him, and for the rest of our lives, we’ll make decisions in his best interest, not ours. I thought it was going to be hard—being selfless. But when you love someone with the deepest parts of your soul, they become your biggest exception.

I know he’s ours.

{ 47 }

LILY CALLOWAY

My fiancé is the sexiest person on Earth. Fact. It’s a biased fact, but many people would agree with me if they had my view.

I brace the red sheet to my chest, my back against the headboard, and gawk as Lo walks buck naked to the bathroom. His ass. His muscular back. His lean, toned body. I am in my kinda heaven.

I’m sure he’s grinning, aware that I’m filing this mental image in my spank bank for eternity. It will remain in a section called
naughty things.
Granted, that portion of my brain is jam-packed with Loren Hale.

He disappears behind the wall. All the pictures pop in an instant. “We should go again,” I call out, scooting to the edge of the bed and bringing the heavy champagne-colored comforter with me. “We need to make up for lost time.”

Today is
the
day.

We’ve already had sex once. The kind that slams backs into walls and causes the bed to aggressively shake. I’m ready for a round two. Possibly even a three or a four. If I can control myself. The insatiable beast has to remain locked away, and I’ll need to stop when I have to stop.

He returns from the bathroom with a glass of water, taking small sips.

“I’ve overworked you?” I ask with a frown.

He gives me a look like
really? Because I’m drinking water?
His brow ticks upward a notch. “You think this is work for me?”

“You get all sweaty and out of breath so…yeah,” I mutter. “It can be work for me too though.” My words tumble out fast. “Lots of limber positions and…stuff.”
Shut up, Lily.

I twist in the sheet and comforter, tangling up and being suffocated by the fabric. After a quick decision, I roll onto my belly, untwisting a bit. Now I’m in the perfect position for my
favorite
position. I prop myself on my elbows and peek back at Lo.

He’s watching me intently while he casually sips his water. Torture. Sheer torture.

“You just gonna stand there?” I ask.

“Maybe.”

I squint. “Are you teasing me or do you need some help…?” I flush. “You know…” I nod towards his cock, which doesn’t look like it needs any aid.
Good job, Lil.
I internally give myself a pity-pat on the shoulder.

“It’s me, love,” he says, sauntering to the dresser. He finishes off his water and sets the glass down. “You don’t have to be embarrassed to say what you mean.”

He nears the bed and climbs on top, the mattress rocking with his weight. His hands travel up my hips, and he easily flips me onto my back again. His eyes dance across my flushed face.

“So say what you mean,” Lo says in a soft voice, his warm breath tickling my flesh as his mouth descends towards my chest. He sucks gently on my nipple, teasing.

“Hmm…” My eyes flutter closed at the new sensation. I clutch the sheet underneath me. “Do you…want me to give you a hand job or a…a…”
think, Lily!
“…a blow job?” I open one eye and then both, smiling. Nailed it.

His tongue flicks the sensitive bud before he says, “No. But that’s adorable of you to ask.”

“Now your turn.” I nudge his leg with my foot.

His lips lift in amusement. “Lily Calloway, would you like me to give you a hand job?”
Yes.
His palm brushes over the tender spot between my thighs. A gasp catches in my throat. “Or head?”
Double yes.
He kisses a trail from my breast to my belly button and down, down,
down.

I almost moan as his mouth reaches
the best spot ever.
But he stops just before he relieves any ache. He raises his head once more, awaiting my answer. I’d love to say yes to both, but I would love both of us to get off even more.

“Or,” I say with a shallow breath. “Option C.” I go to turn over again, but he grips my hipbones firmly, keeping me flat on my back. That didn’t work.

“Option D,” he combats. That sounds good. All I hear is
Option Dick.
My mind, I tell you. No one should be allowed to enter. I absorb each little movement he makes. Still kneeling, he snatches a pillow and stuffs it underneath my bottom.

He begins to peel off the sheets and comforter, exposing my naked body. My heart drums with each passing second. I remember the days where I’d jump him right off the bat. Where I couldn’t control myself. But I take pleasure in this moment, in his self-assuredness and ability to please me so entirely.