My mouth falls and then I swat his arm off me.
He’s actually grinning. “This wasn’t a husband-wife, husband-wife, boyfriend-girlfriend kind of vote.” I know what he means. All the guys voted together, and I was the dissention among the girls. Fine.
“And number two,” Ryke continues to his brother, “I’ve been taking it easy for practically two months. I’m not a fucking invalid.”
He hasn’t been taking it easy. He runs every morning, and I’ve even caught him lifting weights in our basement gym when he’s not supposed to be. He’s bored and restless and reminds me far too much of my little sister.
His itch to climb can’t be scratched for another month or so, and it’s what really bothers him. Daisy told me that no other activity really seems to fill his need to rock climb.
Connor breaks the brief silence. “I think it’s about time we had a certified, potty-trained dog in this house.” Both Ryke and Loren’s shoulders slacken almost instantly, and then Ryke flips off Connor, a smile almost attached too.
“Leeaaafff.” The mumbled words come from underneath the comforter.
“Lil wants you all to leave. As do I,” Loren says.
“Not yet.” I snatch the contracts and set them back in Lo’s hands.
“Sorry,” Daisy says again, on her way out with Coco…nut. I internally cringe.
“Daisy.” Lo shakes his head at her apology that shouldn’t exist in his eyes. I actually love that he’s reinforcing this with her, as Ryke always does. She apologizes for almost everything, just gut-reaction from being raised by our controlling mother.
Daisy nods. “Sor—okay…” She ushers her husky out of the door, and Ryke follows close behind.
I clear my throat.
“Give me a minute,” Loren says, trying to find his spot in the contract.
“I gave you ten. This means a lot to me, please.” I hate my own voice. I’m begging him now.
He scratches his neck. “I can’t just sign this without a lawyer.” He stands from the bed, about to retrieve his cell on the dresser. Loren has no faith in me since the last time I dealt with a contract.
“Let me read it,” Connor suggests, leaving my side to look over the papers in Lo’s grasp.
Loren pauses and then nods, passing them to his best friend. He trusts Connor, and maybe if I hadn’t royally screwed up once before, he would’ve trusted me too. A breath cages in my lungs while I wait for the verdict, hoping that we’ll solve this soon.
Connor reads ten times faster than Lo, flipping the pages while completely inexpressive. His eyes flit to me once, on the fifth page, but I can’t discern his thoughts, good or bad. To Lo, he explains, “This is specifically just to ensure the name of the brand as Calloway Couture Babies and not Hale Co. Babies with the main label as CCB and an HC inset.”
“Yeah, I got that much, thanks,” he says bitterly. Lily peeks beneath the blanket and mouths something to him. He mouths words back, and I tune them out, more focused on Connor’s poker face.
A minute later he hands the contract back to Loren. “It’s standard, no vague phrasing. Personally, I’d sign it without another set of eyes, but it’s up to you.”
Lo hesitates, thumbs through the pages again.
I’m going to have to beg more. “Please,” I say. “We have minutes, maybe less.” My fashion career has fluctuated so much that every success has been paired with an irksome failure. I want to see my designs in stores with my name on them with my vision. I don’t want to lie and endorse something that I don’t believe in, that I barely had a hand in creating.
I need this win.
Loren returns to the bed, and my heart sinks. He digs in the blankets—I think to find Lily. But he avoids the lump that’s clearly his wife. A second later, he procures the missing pen.
He’s going to sign it.
He turns to the correct page. “Next time, send me a text message first or knock.” I barely process his words, watching him scrawl his name. It reminds me that Lo has always been on my side with this new venture in Hale Co. Whatever I want, he’s tried to give me.
So when he passes me the contract, I say, “Thank you.” My voice much softer than usual. It even surprises me. He rocks back in shock but ends up nodding.
I waste not a second more. I walk quickly out, down the hallway, and descend the stairs. I turn a sharp corner and enter the office. While I fax the contract, I call Theo. “It’s all faxed,” I say before he has a chance to speak.
“I see it coming in. I can’t talk long but these all look good to me.” I hear the rustle of papers. “I’ll see you on Monday…hopefully with a job.”
“Of course.” That cloud of guilt looms over me for even threatening his job. We hang up at the same time, but I don’t exhale a sigh of relief.
It takes me a couple seconds to detect the source of my unease. While a dog traipses around our house, the little orange tabby cat we’ve deserted roams the apartment of Connor’s therapist. I have no idea if he even cleans her litter regularly or if he forgets to feed her.
I can’t look at that dog without being reminded of what we did, and so I make a quick decision. I’m driving to Manhattan today.
And I’m taking Sadie back.
29
ROSE COBALT
I bounce Jane on my hip, and I knock on the office door, eye-level with a bronze nameplate: Dr. Frederick Cothrell. As soon as the door swings open, my glare already zeroes in on the target. With my heels on, Frederick is the same height as me. I notice his sideburns graying since the last I’ve seen him face-to-face, time clearly passing quickly. Exhaustion also pulls wrinkles by his eyes.
“Rose.” He’s not even a little surprised. Frederick widens the door, welcoming me inside.
“I need her,” I say without clarifying more. I follow him into the room, and I kick the door closed with my ankle, securing Jane on my waist.
Frederick slumps down on his leather chair, motioning for me to take a seat on the patient’s couch across from him. No thank you.
“I’m not your patient. I’m only here for my cat.”
He smiles, seemingly genuine. At least more genuine than the ones Connor plasters on for people. “It’s Connor’s cat,” he reminds me.
I suck in a breath. Sadie may have been his cat, but through the years, she warmed to me. I’m the one who cares enough to want her home. For this reason, she’s just as much mine as she is his.
“It’s time for her to come home.” I hug Jane a bit tighter, resting a hand on my daughter’s head. Jane babbles and then audibly enough says “hi” to Frederick. She even waves. I’d set her down, but we won’t be here long.
Frederick waves back at Jane. “She can walk now?” The way he questions, I feel as though he already knows the answer is yes. I wonder if Connor described the event to Frederick, how Jane kept trying to push herself to her feet, only to fall. We were all in the living room for a Saturday night movie, Harriet the Spy (Daisy’s pick) paused on the television.
Moffy kept trying to stand too, both babies attempting to walk towards each other. They weren’t racing but just eager to join their cousin on the other side of the rug. Daisy grabbed the video camera as Moffy proudly stood first and walked. An hour later, Jane mimicked his steps.
I can’t picture Connor reiterating this scene to Frederick, not the pure emotion that I saw behind his eyes that night. Maybe he just gave Frederick the facts, and his therapist deduced my husband’s feelings all on his own. That seems more likely.