Some Kind of Perfect (Calloway Sisters #4.5) (47 page)

I imagine Rose questioning Lily right now too. Connor and Rose have been there for us from the start. I mean, Christ—the four of us, we
lived
together first. Because they were trying to help us cope with staying sober while keeping our relationship upright.

One is hard enough. Both, together, seemed impossible.

But Lily and I—we made it.

It doesn’t mean we don’t have bad days, and today just happens to be our first fight in…I don’t know how long.

Years
, probably.

“Moffy walked in on us,” I explain. “We were beneath the covers, so he didn’t see anything, but I grounded him for not knocking. Lily didn’t want to.” It’s all I need to say. Connor could put a picture together with even less pieces. “I’m not my father. I know I’m not.”

Moffy doesn’t get how nice I am in comparison.

My dad would’ve dragged me by the neck into my bedroom, called me a fucking idiot, chewed me out until I pissed my pants, and then slammed the door in my face.

Connor studies me for a second, understanding
why
Lily and I are at odds. It has to do with both of us feeling justified in our actions. Both of us being confident and resilient in our stances. We’ve never had that before.

Then he says, “Even I disagree with Rose on minor issues like the best route to drive our children to school. Though, we settle our arguments with trivia.”

I laugh. “You’re such a nerd.”

He smiles, not denying the fact. “I just don’t want you to believe you’re not doing your best. You can’t be me, of course, but your best is somewhere below—but not on the bottom.”

I feign confusion. “I thought I was your bottom, love.”

“You’re many things to me.” His smooth tone just melts the tension in the air like a drug.

I look at my best friend who could give wisdom to a fucking tree if he wanted to, but he wouldn’t. He collects time like the rarest commodity, and to this day, he doesn’t spend it on just anyone or anything. So I say, “I’m lucky you spend so much time on me, aren’t I?”

“No.” Connor shakes his head. “It’s not luck, Lo.”

He doesn’t have to say it. I know he won’t spell it out. But
I understand.

It’s his love for me.

That’s why he chooses me. Maybe that’s why I choose him and Lily and all these other people around me. It’s love.

That’s what it’s always been.

Connor takes his hand off the phone’s speakers, and Daisy shouts, “Camera at the ready!”

“I’m in position,” Lily chimes in. “…a non-sexual position. Like a standing doing nothing kind of position.”

My smile hurts my face. Then I remember we’re in a fight, and my smile fades again. The girls are pretending to be paparazzi on the street and directing the camera lenses up at the fifteenth floor. At us. We can’t see them.

I lift up the corner of Connor’s shirt. “Can you see Connor’s nipple?”

Connor says to me, “If you wanted me undressed, all you had to do was ask, darling.”

“Will you strip for me?”

Just like that, he pulls his shirt off his head. Sculpted abs and arms, lean muscle, not bulky because he prefers to wear slim, well-fitted suits. Ryke and I always joke about the day where he accidentally packs too much muscle and rips his tux.

That day has never happened. Connor seriously knows his body like Michelangelo knew art.

My phone vibrates in my short’s pocket. I check the group text, sent to Willow, Ryke, and me.

Lunch this Saturday. You may bring your wives and husband. Children not allowed. This is an adult lunch.
– Dad

We do Sunday luncheons with Lily’s parents about once a month, not every week, but it’s not a surprise that my dad would want all of his kids together on Saturday. It wouldn’t be the first time he asked.

It’s not even the first time he’s banned the children from attending. His topics of interest range from business to personal life to things that put all of us on edge. And even if the children were allowed, Ryke wouldn’t let Sulli go.

She sees her grandfather way less than Moffy, but I won’t let Moffy be alone with him for longer than a minute or two. Still, he likes his grandfather, so he’ll be bummed about not going.

“You bringing your husband to lunch, Willow?” I ask over the phone.

In the short pause, I can practically feel her smile at the word
husband.

Willow says, “Maybe, I don’t know.”

It’s about our dad. Jonathan Hale is warming up to Garrison, but Garrison doesn’t like Jonathan. Not ever since our dad criticized his proposal to Willow, all because
she was still in college at the time. He sounded like Greg Calloway, overprotective about the entanglement of relationships and future, but maybe it has something to do with Willow being a girl.

Too soon.

Too young.

Too rushed.

Too eager.

Jonathan said.

Garrison called him a gutless fish.

I was shocked. Ryke was shocked. My dad doesn’t back down. He would verbally attack until someone bled out.

Jonathan called him a cunt.

Ryke lost it. I tried to shift things off Garrison, especially because of his past history with his brothers. I couldn’t do much. Everything escalated between my dad and him. Then Garrison just shut down. He avoids conflict at a certain point.

So he walked out of the lunch and wouldn’t talk about it again. Only to me, he later confessed that he didn’t know what to do. He wants to respect Jonathan because he’s Willow’s dad, but he can’t stand him.

I had to go into a lengthy explanation about Lily and me. How my dad tried to push a marriage on us for the betterment of our reputation and those around us. So as much as I love Jonathan Hale, he shouldn’t have the power to guilt anyone into anything. Not into a marriage and not out of one.

I think he’ll come around and stop antagonizing Garrison. Having a daughter is new for him, and he really shouldn’t be picking out pages from the Greg Calloway handbook.

“Move around.” Rose’s frosty tone echoes from the speakers. “We’re taking pictures now.”

I picture Daisy wagging her brows as she suggests, “You can pretend to make-out.”

“What?” Lily says. “Who?”

“Connor and Lo,” she clarifies. “We need to see if Garrison and Willow getting it on will be caught on camera.”

Jesus Christ. “That’s my
sister
,” I snap. Then I cringe at Connor and give him a look like
help me wipe that from my brain.

“Oops, sorry.” She whispers, “Sorry, Willow.”

Connor grins at me. “I’ll make it better.”

I nod. “Pretend make-out with me, love?”

“Just like we did last night?” he quips.

“Just like that.”

Then he grips the hem of my black shirt and lifts my V-neck over my head. I comb strands of my light brown hair back. We’re both worth billions of dollars, but he looks it head-to-toe, inside and out.

His amusement curves his lips.

It’s infectious.

I try hard to fake disappointment. “I remember you doing more to me last night.”

“You want more, darling?” His face is all humor.

I touch my heart. “I’m all yours.”

Connor puts a hand to my chest. With more force than I expected, he shoves me back—my shoulders hit the window with a
thump.
My own smile matches his. I’m not even a little surprised we’re pretending to mess around.

We’ve always been too comfortable around one another to give a shit. We might confuse other people, but what other people think about us has never mattered to me. We both know we’re just friends. Our wives know we’re just friends. So we can joke around with one another and still be the same.

Connor presses his hand against the glass, right beside my jaw. He acts like he’s going to kiss me, and then his lips diverge past my cheek.

I let out a short, dry laugh. “And Lily calls me a tease.”

His conceited grin could light the goddamn world. “Can you see anything?” he asks the girls, his phone tight in his fist.

“I see—is that a hand?” Daisy asks.

“My hand,” Connor answers. He takes it off the window and then plants his palm on my shoulder, pushing me. “Down.”

I drop to my knees, realizing the girls need to determine whether or not his face is visible—and I was blocking him. I have no clue what to do with my hands in this situation. My face is near his crotch.

Connor shakes his head at me like I’m his worst pretend lay.

“Dammit,” Rose curses.

Connor grips my hair. “If you can see this, we have an issue.” He tilts my head back, jerking my chin and face up so that my eyes meet his.

“Goddamn you’re aggressive, love.”

“If you want softer, you’re with the wrong man.”

A truth I’ve always known, and I didn’t have to pretend make-out with him to find out.

Lily inhales. “Is Lo giving you a blow job?”

Connor releases his grip, and I cock my head towards the phone in his hand. “A pretend blow job, love.”

“Ohmygod.”

My pretends with Lily are real. They always have been.

I stand up. “Lily Hale,” I say towards the phone. I think about all the things I could say, but I end up with this one, “I love you.”

Her voice is a lot more subdued. “I love you just as much.”

I relax. “Is this the end of our fight?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe I should give more pretend blow jobs,” I say to her.

“Ohmygod. Is my face hot?” she asks her older sister.

“Nice nipples, boys,” Daisy says.

Connor picks up his shirt and passes me mine. “They can see through the window,” he states what we all now know.

I put my shirt on. “Can we get someone to tint the windows more?”

“One of my subsidiary companies focuses on tinting,” he reminds me. “I’ll see what they can do.”

“There you go,” I say to the girls on the line. “Connor Cobalt saves the day again.”

In our world, it’s a common ending.

< 27 >

July 2022

The Meadows Cottage

Philadelphia

RYKE MEADOWS

“When does rain stop? What is rain made of?” Sulli lies on a mound of pillows she calls Mermaid Rock and kicks her feet like she’s splashing water. “What if it rains
forever
? What would happen then?”

At four, she has dark brown hair, wild and long, inquisitive green eyes, and tanned skin from the time we spend outdoors, especially in the fucking summer. Rain thrashes against the windowpanes, and Sulli knows it’s the reason why we aren’t in the backyard.

I’m on the living room floor with my daughter, the two of us awake at an early fucking hour. Around 5:00 a.m. in Philly.

“Rain is water that comes from the fucking clouds,” I say after I eat a big spoonful of cereal, “and too much creates a flood.”

Sullivan doesn’t ask me to define a flood. She places her hands beneath her chin and scrunches her nose at my half-eaten bowl of granola cereal. She spits it out whenever I let her try some—but it’s not the only food she hates.

Vegetables? Fucking
never
.

Meat? Not yesterday or a fucking year from that.

Fruit? Mostly melons and tangerines.

She only ate a fucking
waffle
after Daisy put whipped cream and caramel on top.

Sullivan kicks her legs again, dressed in a green mermaid skirt and a tiny bikini top. When I woke, I peeked into her room and found her hastily tugging on her skirt. Like she was running out of fucking time.

“Hey, sweetie.” I bent down and helped pull up her shiny green skirt, and then I fumbled with the strands of the bikini top.

“I’m gonna be late.” She sprinted around me, worry in her eyes.

“Sulli!” I ran after her and muttered, “Fucking A.”

“Mommy! Mommy!” she shouted, swinging her head for any sign of Daisy. “It’s mermaid day!”

I picked her up before she reached the banister. She wiggled against me and outstretched her arms towards the air as though she could fly right to her mom. It nearly broke my fucking heart, but I just remembered,
she knows her mom.

She has one.

In some different kind of world, she’d never meet Daisy, and her life wouldn’t contain the same breathtaking light.

I threw Sulli over my shoulder to distract her, brought her back into her room, and plopped her down on her wicker swing. I grabbed hold of the fucking sides so she wouldn’t dash off.

“Mommy’s not fucking back yet,” I reminded Sulli. I told our daughter that she’d be gone for three days. It’s been
one.

Her chin trembled. “Why?”