“We weren’t fighting.” That comes from Daisy, who finally slips out of the pantry behind Ryke, her neck dotted red like he kissed her for a long, long time.
Even that thought doesn’t make me aroused. Ha! Take that. I’m not sure who I’m “taking that” too, but in this moment, I feel invincible.
Daisy fixes the strap of her bra and hops on the barstool, swiveling around to face me in the middle of the kitchen. She wears a crooked, mischievous smile. So they were having sex?
“I’m officially confused,” I announce.
“Nothing below her bra or her underwear, thank you for that,” Ryke deadpans. No sex. Definitely no sex.
“It’s not her fault, for the fifteenth time,” Daisy says to him. “I want to do the pact. So stop nagging Lily.”
“Yeah, stop nagging me,” I add and almost stick out my tongue. I restrain myself. I’m a mom now. I have to show a level of maturity. I cross my ankles, my feet warm in dinosaur slippers. Those haven’t lost their cool factor since I was seventeen.
Lo would agree.
“Let me f**king complain in peace,” Ryke growls, running a hand through his tousled hair.
Lo sits on the floor beside the bouncer, bottle in hand as he feeds Maximoff.
Daisy gives Ryke a roguish smile, something Lo can’t see on the ground in between the counters. “You know, you can still masturbate.” I’m slightly terrified at the idea that “masturbate” may be my son’s first word.
“Yeah, Ryke,” Lo eggs on. “You can still jerk one out like the rest of us.” Obviously Lo doesn’t share the same concern. Maybe it’s because I’m a sex addict. Right? Right?
I let it go with a breath. I’m surprised Lo is fueling this conversation at all. A year ago he would have gagged at the mention of Daisy talking about sex or his brother or any combination of the two. How things change.
Ryke nears us and leans on the bar counter beside Daisy. “Not if she cracks first.”
That’s a dirty game. So he was trying to kiss on my little sister and make her beg for sex. It’s low. Also devious. Definitely a solid plan in my book—The Lily Calloway Sexy Times Book that is. It’s only in my head, but it’s very resourceful.
Daisy tries hard not to smile. “I don’t come easily.” Ooh, that was super dirty too.
“Calloway, you’ve only ever come with me. I think I know how to get you off.”
“By chocolate cupcakes,” she says with a lopsided grin. Is that a sexual innuendo?
“Sure, sweetheart. Chocolate f**king cupcakes and a nine-inch—”
I plug my ears with my fingers. I did not hear his size! Food. He was still talking about food. I only drop my hands when his lips stop moving.
“You two are so adorable,” Lo says dryly. “Please return to the pantry.”
Ryke shoots Lo his middle finger, and I’m close enough to punch him in the arm. He doesn’t even sway from the force.
“What was that for?” he complains. “I didn’t even say the f-word.”
“You did it with your finger,” I refute, pointing accusingly at his chest. Everyone saw it, not just me. “You can’t teach my week-old son that.”
“He can’t even learn the ABCs yet, Lily. He doesn’t know what this means.” He goes and makes the rude gestures with both of his hands now. He’s a horrible influence.
“You just want to be the cool uncle, admit it,” I combat.
“You’re just scared that Moffy is going to like me more than Connor, admit that.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Will not.” Though I can’t deny that he’s given Maximoff a cool nickname, one that I wish I’d thought of first.
“Uh-oh.” Daisy goes rigid, her phone in her hand. She slowly hops off the bar stool and sidles next to her boyfriend. Instead of showing me the screen first, she flashes it to him.
He takes the cell from her, and I watch his jaw harden to stone.
36
LILY CALLOWAY
“What is it?” My heart palpitates. Bad news? The media? It can’t be a three-way rumor involving Ryke. I had a paternity test a week ago, per our publicist’s advice after lots of pushing. And the results were already announced: Loren Hale is Maximoff’s father.
Ryke glances hesitantly at his brother before he says, “Celebrity Crush posted a photo of Daisy and me leaving the grocery store.”
My shoulders slacken. It’s not about me. A very selfish thought, I realize. “That’s good, right?” The more they’re shown together, in public, means that people will accept them as a real couple.
Lo rises with Maximoff in his arms. We have this chart for feedings and diaper changes. All very organized. All very Rose Calloway-esque. She helped me chart out daily activities and how much the babies should be drinking. Basically, leveling out all my anxiety into a list. Now I kind of understand her obsession with them. It was like therapy. List-therapy. It’s a thing.
“What’s wrong with the photo?” Lo asks skeptically.
Daisy shifts on her feet and tugs at the hem of her white tee. “We…you know how you guys put us in charge of shopping for the house this week?”
This isn’t about me…is it?
“Spit it out,” Lo snaps. Maximoff detaches from his bottle and begins to wail. Lo’s body tightens even more. “I’m sorry, little guy.” He bounces him a bit, and then he quiets, returning to his bottle.
“Here.” Ryke holds the cellphone up to Lo. I crane over his shoulder to read it. The headline: Ryke Meadows and Daisy Calloway shopping for baby Cobalt and baby Hale! There’s an additional zoomed image of the grocery cart, some of the labels visible in the white plastic bags. Diapers. Cereal. Lightning Bolt!. And baby formula.
I don’t understand. It’s not that bad.
I skim down and read the article by Wendy Collins.
Inside sources, close to the Calloway family, tell us that not one but both Calloway sisters went for the formula option to feed their babies. The sources say, “Lily and Rose would rather have assistants and their grandmother look after their babies. They don’t want the responsibility. It’s a big reason why they chose formula. Rose and Lily aren’t prepared for motherhood and they know it.”
I stop reading there. None of us even have nannies. It’s too hard to trust someone with something so precious when we’ve been burned before. We all thought it was safer to raise our children without them.
“That’s complete trash,” Lo declares. “Who’s this so-called inside source anyway? Samantha Calloway?”
Daisy and I exchange a look, trying to gauge whether our mom could even do that. No…my mom isn’t that self-serving. “What would she get out of it?” Daisy asks.
“Right here…” Lo points at the phone. “Especially from the grandmother. Who do you think that is? Connor’s mom is dead. And my mom is five-hundred miles away, not caring about me or any of this shit.” His harsh tone is like acid, scorching my ears.
It’s been so long since he’s even mentioned his mom. Years, probably. Emily Moore might as well be a figment, a ghost. I haven’t even met her, but when I do think about her, my stomach starts to roil. It’s not a pleasant feeling, and I imagine, for Lo, the sensations are a million times more harrowing.
But maybe he’s buried it so deep down that he doesn’t feel anything anymore. Shut it out and said goodbye. I know when he met her, he closed the door on that part of his life for good.