My muscles bind the longer I sit here without answers. God, I want this. For so many reasons. My foot jostles, and I rub my lips. Waiting.
Then Daniel turns to me. “When we first met you, we weren’t sure if you’d want to be involved with this company. Through your initiative, you’ve proven to us that you do.” He pauses. “You’re a lot like your father, but you’re not him.”
I clench my teeth, and I can feel my jaw sharpening. Right. I break eye contact, staring out at the floor-length window. The one that overlooks Philadelphia on a muggy afternoon. In the silence, I say, “What were you expecting exactly?”
“Let’s see,” Daniel says, “the son of Jonathan Hale: what he’d call a little shit. What Jonathan is. Someone who’d throw a bottle of wine at a wall, toss papers around, yell in an employee’s face if the job didn’t go as planned. Degrade a person so he’d feel better.”
I frown and meet his face again.
“Don’t look so shocked. We know the terrible parts of your father. We’ve been around him long enough. And we’re all more than impressed to see that you didn’t inherit his habits.”
I did though. I inherited all of those things.
I stare dazedly at the table. My therapist told me something once.
He said, “Sometimes the person we think we’ll become is the person we already are, and the person we truly become is the person we least expect.”
I’d been terrified of becoming my father for years. It’s why I never wanted to take Hale Co. It’s why I pulled against everything he threw at me.
And all that time, I was already him.
But I’m not my father anymore. I’ve become a better version of the person I once was. Someone I can stand to be around, someone I can live with.
Yeah. It took long enough. “Have you decided then?” I ask Daniel.
“We’ve voted, but ultimately, we realized that the decision should be left with you two. We want someone who truly wants to run this company. If that’s both of you, then we’ll be damn happy to have the Hale brothers as the face of Hale Co.”
Hale brothers. Ryke’s jaw hardens. He considers himself a Meadows, not a Hale.
“You want us to be CEOs together?” I ask.
“Only if that’s what you want,” he emphasizes.
I lock eyes with Ryke, and I lean forward, cupping my hands on the table. I’d do this with him, if he’s up to it. But I still doubt he’d enjoy this life. I doubt he even wants it.
“Just tell me one thing,” Ryke says to me, the board overhearing. But I block out their stern expressions. It’s only me and my brother. “Will you be happy?”
My smile stretches my face. I can’t contain it. “I already am.” I’ve proven to myself that I could reach this point without a crutch. I’m sober. I’m healthy. I’m so goddamn alive.
Ryke smiles back, like he’s proud of me. “It’s yours, little brother. I believe in you.”
For months, those last four words are all I’ve ever wanted to hear. From Ryke, they mean everything to me.
70
LILY CALLOWAY
While I’m seated at the vanity in a hotel suite, Rose clips the front strands of my hair back into a diamond barrette. My three sisters and my mom flutter around me like bluebirds in Cinderella. I never thought I’d be a princess of any fairytale. I’m more like the pumpkin that lies sadly on the wet pavement.
“What if he says no?” I suddenly spout my billionth fear of the morning.
“I’ll rip off his penis,” Rose says flatly as I stand up from the vanity bench. That is not something I’d enjoy. I love Loren Hale’s cock, very much so.
Our mom rolls her eyes and then rests a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t listen to your sister.”
I never thought I’d be on speaking terms with my mom for my wedding day, but we are. We really are.
“He’ll say yes,” Poppy chimes in as she straightens out my white tulle skirt and silk fitted top. It’s not a traditional wedding dress. I tried on almost all styles: mermaid, ball-gown, A-line, empire. It wasn’t until I found the skirt and shortened top combo that I felt like myself.
Daisy nudges my side. “And not because he knows his manhood is on the line.”
“That’ll only be two percent of the reason,” Rose butts in. She splays the rest of my straight brown hair on my shoulders and glances at the clock on the hotel nightstand. “We should head to the roof.”
Now? I must be a deer caught in headlights because everyone starts spouting encouragements at once. My mind whirls in a thousand different directions. I haven’t seen Lo all day, and maybe that’s what scares me about this impending ceremony. What if I arrive and he’s not there? What if it starts raining? What if lightning strikes a guest down?
“Lily.” Rose snaps her fingers in my face. She’s standing right in front of me. My high-octane maid of honor. She lifts my chin up so I meet her eyes and she says, “He’s waiting for you. Don’t be afraid.”
I inhale a strong breath. I’m about to marry my best friend. If I repeat it too many times, I start crying. So I pocket that thought, and I follow my sisters out of the hotel room and to the elevator. They’re all my bridesmaids, dressed in lavender one-shoulder gowns. What Rose called Grecian-inspired.
As we rise to the rooftop, she passes me my bouquet of purple flowers, the fancy name for them escaping my mind.
I am flooded with thousands upon thousands of memories that contain Loren Hale. In each one, some part of our bodies touch. Our hands. Our legs. Our hearts. Subconsciously, he guides me to the rooftop where he waits.
* * *
I hear the violins through the hallway door. Poppy, the last bridesmaid, just pushed through, leaving me in the Philly high-rise with my father.
“Is Maximoff outside?” I press him for information, maybe to prolong the mystery behind the door.
My dad avoids the answer. “We’re next.” He places his hand on my back. “Ready, Lily?”
Am I ready to marry the man who has my entire soul?
The nervous anxiety subsides. I am. But it’s not until my dad opens the door that I fully believe I’m marrying him. That this is my wedding day. October 10th.
On our terms.
At long, long last.
The skyline glitters in the sunlight, the air crisp and cool. And my sisters, in their purple Grecian dresses, stand in a diagonal line by an ivy arch. White flowers booming around the structure. Their smiles could light the sun.
Purple petals decorate the aisle, and our few family members, seated in white wooden chairs, turn their heads at my entrance. My mom with Jane. Willow. And Jonathan.
The dapper men beside the arch stand tall and poised: Sam, on the end, and Ryke, who cradles my son. Maximoff dressed in a red superhero cape and onesie, the letter M embroidered in black. Tears nearly burst forth, but I try my hardest to suppress them.
Make it to Loren Hale.
Make it to Loren Hale.
I repeat the mantra with each step forward. Connor stands behind Loren, officiating the wedding, but I focus solely on my best friend, shutting out the surroundings for an extended moment.
In a perfectly fitted tux, Lo waits at the end of the aisle for me, his hands cupped in front of his body. Those intoxicating amber eyes never diverge from mine, never break or part or leave me.
He is ice and scotch, sharp and dizzying—breathtakingly gorgeous. And when he looks at me, I see those thousands of memories course through his gaze. The seven-year-old us performing a backyard ceremony. The nine-year-old us racing around his father’s mansion.