Fuel the Fire (48 page)

Lily secures Moffy in his highchair next to Jane, and from her expression alone, I can’t discern whether she already knows about the topic at hand.

Lo rests his elbows on the counter, hunching forward. “The babies are almost going to be a year old, and we still haven’t chosen godparents.”

The air thins.

Godparents
. I crave to look at Connor and see if his complacency cracks for a brief second.

“You want to do this now?” Ryke questions. I missed the part where Daisy jumped on the counter next to him, sitting by the microwave. She swings her legs and peels an orange while his arm subtly drapes across her shoulders.

“There’s no better time,” Lo says. “We all keep dodging the subject.”

Lily nods. “We need to make a decision soon.” So she did know what he was up to.

Lo adds, “The outside is insane. I never thought anyone could hurt
you
of all people.” He motions to me, his cheekbones like razors as he glances at my bandaged wound again.

My temple throbs. “If it happens again, someone will lose their fingers and toes, I assure you.”

“It’s not happening again,” Connor proclaims, his stern voice prickling my neck.
Don’t turn around, Rose.
I stand rigid in place.

Lo focuses on Connor. “Whether it’s you two or Lily and me, we need to think about the worst happening. I can’t let Samantha or my father have custody of Moffy.”

Silence sweeps the kitchen, and tension thickens the longer no one speaks. We’ve all sheltered our opinions about godparents, mostly since there will be hurt feelings in the process. None of us are entirely religious, but we view this decision solely as a guardianship. The godparents will be responsible for our children should something happen to us.

Coconut chows down on kibble, her munching filling the deadened air. Jane slurps her yogurt, and Moffy whacks his hands on his tray table.

“Who’s fucking dying?” Ryke asks, hardly easing the strain.

“Unexpected, shitty things happen,” Loren retorts. “I think we can all agree on that.” His eyes flicker to Daisy’s face, the long scar down her cheek. And then to mine.

Lily raises her hand. “I have something to add.” She clears her throat. “I know that no one wants to say anything in fear of rejecting someone else. But can we all take our emotions out of it and make a decision right here.
Please
.” Her “please” is heartbreakingly desperate, reminding me that I need to work on mine.

“Says one of the most emotional people in the fucking room,” Ryke mutters under his breath.

I shoot him a scathing look.

“Hey,” Lo snaps.

“Yeah,
hey
.” Lily’s face scrunches, attempting a glare.

Ryke cringes with remorse and runs a frustrated hand through his thick hair. “I’m emotional too, Lil. I didn’t mean it like it sounded. Sorry.”

Lily accepts the apology with a smile.

Daisy shares her orange with Ryke, splitting the slices in half. “Aren’t Connor and Rose having a million kids?” she asks.

I accidentally glance at Connor again, his features unreadable as he studies me. We haven’t talked about children since our test backfired, but by the parameters of our rules, I think we’re both in agreement that Jane is all we can have.

Don’t think about it, Rose.

I don’t like thinking about this new future, ever.

“Just what the world needs, a Coballoway army,” Loren says, his sarcasm unusually absent.

“We may only have Jane.” I pull back my shoulders to try and accept this outcome, even when it feels off-kilter, like life is unbalanced.

Lo frowns deeply. “What? Since when?”

Lily looks morose. “Is this about what happened with the paparazzi?”

Only Ryke knows about our test, but the reason behind everything remains the same: how can we protect our children? They have no choice whether or not to be in magazines or stalked and traumatized by cameras.

“Yes,” Connor answers. “It’s about the media.”

“If you want more kids,” Lo says, “you should have more kids and not let some shitty fucking journalists dictate what you do.” He nods to Ryke. “Same goes for you, bro. I better be seeing a mini-you one day because I know for a goddamn fact you want a kid.”

Daisy smiles as she bites into an orange slice.

Ryke rolls his eyes. He’s been in our camp since the beginning, afraid of bringing a kid in this environment.

Daisy eases the tension with a brighter smile. “Let’s just assume that Rose and Connor may have more kids. How many were you planning?”

“Eight,” I send the number into the void. When Connor first proposed the amount, I thought he was insane, but the longer we’ve bantered back and forth about
eight babies this
and
eight babies that
—it’s become less of a crazed idea, spawned from a verbal battle and egotistical notions. Now it’s become an endearing plan. A family of ten.
It sounds strong
, he told me.

It does.

But I suppose it’s traveled back to being a fantastical idea once more.

Lily picks at her nails. “Eight?” She seems worried by the number, unsure if she can handle that many.

I find my knife and point it between my two sisters. “Whoever wants to be Jane’s godmother has to make a blood pact with me.”

They both exchange a look like they’re considering volunteering
out
of the position.

I rest a hand on my hip. “Fine, the blood pact is optional. The godmother part is still mandatory.”

“Ryke and Daisy should do it.” It’s not Lily who voices that opinion.

It’s Loren.

“And why is that?” I ask, slightly crestfallen. Is this headed where I think? Lo and Lily will choose Ryke and Daisy as well. I know I’m not cuddly. I’m cold at first sight. I know the media thinks I don’t love my own child. I’ve said things in my past that condemns me before my actions tell the real truth.

But I’d like to believe that Lily sees how much I love Jane and her son. I’d give him the world as I would my own child. I suppose, secretly, I’ve longed to be the godmother of Lily’s kids. We’ve always been the closest among our sisters, and if Lily left the world with Lo, I’d want the remaining pieces of her as close to me as possible.

I’m not as fun or as daring as Daisy, but I would really,
really
try to be as compassionate and as loving as Lily—for her.

I stare down at my knife, avoiding everyone’s eyes.

“Kids are stressful,” Lo explains. “Eight sounds like a nightmare. I don’t know if we could do that without…”
relapsing
, the unspoken word lingers.

“It’s understandable,” Connor says. “Ryke and Daisy were our first choices anyway.”

I glare at the wall. “Ryke, can you tell Connor that this piece of information was unnecessary to share with Loren and Lily?”

Ryke stares past my shoulder. “You fucking got that?” he asks my husband.

Before he can say anything, Lily throws her hands in the air. “We’re not offended. Honestly, I’m glad we’ve made one decision. Two more to go.”

Daisy mock gasps. “Is Coconut on the menu? She could use some godparents. I’m proud to say, she’s not a bed-wetter.” She cups her hands around her mouth and whispers, “But she snores.”

Ryke messes Daisy’s hair with a rough hand, and he murmurs in her ear, the words almost distinguishable as,
I love you, sweetheart.

Loren shoots Lily a look. “A dog godparent?”

Lily nods. “We can’t abandon her.”

My stomach knots.
Don’t think about Sadie.

Ryke and Daisy quietly discuss their decision for no longer than a few seconds, and then their gazes pin to Loren and Lily. Daisy says, “We want you two to take care of her since you both like dogs more than Connor and Rose.”

This is true.

And still, I’m the one feeling more left out. I should’ve known it’d be this way from the start. I may be more responsible than my sisters, but people want their kids with someone who hugs them, so affectionately, so warmly, that a smile crests their face.

I’m the one who will pick children up from school on time, who will write notecards at midnight so they can cram for a test, who will always remember to pack their lunches and tuck them into bed. I may hound them to brush their teeth. I may even remind them constantly to remove their dirty shoes before they enter the house. But I would champion them. I would fight for them.

I hope this counts.

“Meeting adjourned,” I suddenly say, not wanting to hear them choose
Raisy
. Yes, it’s hypocritical since we weren’t planning on choosing Lily and Lo. But I can’t change my feelings.

I’m about to open the oven when Loren snaps, “We have a kid too. Or is Jane the special snowflake here?”

I inhale, my chest tight. “Just choose your brother, and let’s be done with this.”

He snorts into a dry, bitter laugh. “Of course you have to make this hard for me.” He shakes his head. “If you end up raising Moffy, I hope he learns how to be tough from you.”

My brows pinch.
What?
I look to Lily for confirmation. She has a dorky grin on her face, nodding rapidly. “Will you and Connor be Maximoff’s godparents?”

Something wet runs down my cheek.
No, no, no.
I spin quickly, wiping underneath my traitorous eye. When I look up, I realize I’ve spun
towards
Connor.

His brow arches at me. I glare at the sight of his wide grin, and I want so badly to mouth,
shut up
, but I can’t speak to him. Hopefully my eyes convey the message. This better not be considered cheating.

Loren laughs behind me. “Did you just cry, Rose?”

“No,
Loren
,” I retort, turning back around. “There was dust in my eye.”

“Sure,” he says, a smile attached to his voice. “It was just dust.” He tilts his head at me. “You know you’re a kickass mom, right?”

I think he’s trying to make me cry.

“I’m pretty sure you would rip out your hair for my son too.”

I have to wipe my eyes
again.
“I would,” I whisper beneath my breath.
I would over and over again.

Lily adds, “I know that you’d love Moffy as fiercely as you love Jane.” She wipes her nose that drips with her tears. She sniffs. “And we’d be at peace knowing he’s with you.”

I have to dab my eyes with a paper towel. I say what’s aching to come out. “Thank you.”  

I live my life confidently, but motherhood has always been “in progress” for me. After I’ve had Jane, I’ve felt more self-assured, but it belongs in my heart. My growth remains empty in the eyes of others. Except these people, in this kitchen. They see me. And I realize that’s all I needed.

The oven timer beeps, and I glance over my shoulder at Connor. We lock eyes again.

Silence is a cruel punishment between the people you love.

Never again
, I think.

I can’t imagine how this is going to work tonight. Ignoring each other. In bed.

Something tells me a pillow barricade won’t restrain my ambitious husband from getting what he wants.

Regardless, I’m no cheater. And the rules still apply.

[ 44 ]

ROSE COBALT

I brush my teeth before bed and do my
very
best to ignore my husband’s dominant presence. He seems to make a show of stretching slowly across the counter, just to reach for the fucking
toothpaste
.

It’s unnerving. His height. His unfaltering posture. His sheer ability to vacuum all oxygen by grabbing an object alone. This type of confidence intoxicates the air, and I inhale the poisonous fumes with each shallow breath.

I collect my hair to my right shoulder, holding it back as I spit into the sink and rinse my mouth. I avoid the mirror, his gaze beckoning me to meet him, and I search for my hairbrush. I won’t succumb to him that easily.

He lost.

There are consequences.

“Rose, you’re lying down with your ass perfectly raised,” he says deeply. I try not to tense.
Ignore him.
“One of my hands is wrapped around your neck.” I sense him nearing me. One step. Two. “I forcefully roll your panties down your ass, down your legs, off your ankles.” His hand rests beside mine on the counter, and I slam the drawer shut.
Ignore him, Rose.

“You just collapsed on the bed,” he says.

I did not
, I almost retort. I literally bite my tongue.

“I haven’t even slid my erection inside of you yet, but I plan to…” His voice seems to be nearer, like a husky whisper in the pit of my ear. “I plan to fill you so full, Rose. My cock all the way between your legs, right in…right there…” I keep waiting for his hands to touch me, right
there
. Even when they don’t and I’m left with cold air, I clench.
Fuck me.

No, Rose.
I ditch the pursuit for my hairbrush that has disappeared at the most inopportune moment. Then I turn my back to Connor. On my exit out of the bathroom, I flick
off
the lights, shrouding him in darkness, as though he doesn’t exist at all.

I feel his frustration behind me, his body tightening and coiling at my lack of response.

Connor rarely simmers. Our back-and-forth banter releases his pent-up conceitedness, his narcissism that
needs
to be fueled and acknowledged, and without my reply, his irritation pools and pools.

I’m afraid my vagina does not understand tonight’s mission.

Ignore thy husband.

I delicately set every decorative pillow in the middle of the bed. Already dressed in a black sultry chemise, a slit up my thigh, I’m prepared for se—
sleep
.

God. I cannot have sex tonight.
Get in the game, Rose.

I think I’m tangled in the midst of it.

I climb underneath the puffy comforter about the same time Connor exits the bathroom, shirtless but still in black slacks. I try not to hone in on his body for long or his styled, wavy brown hair.