“If we know anything,” Ryke says, handing Daisy back her cell, “it’s that Connor probably has a million f**king lawyers on this. They basically called his wife a bad mom.”
“Yeah, but they always call me a bad mom,” I say. “So the one time they blatantly call Rose a bad mom, everyone is going to throw a tantrum?” My heart sinks.
Ryke extends his arms. “I didn’t say it was right. I’m just saying prepare yourself for that double-edged sword, Calloway. It f**king hurts.” He rocks back like someone is going to punch his arm, but I don’t care about swear words anymore. It seems unimportant.
I appreciate Ryke’s warning, I do. It’s nice being back to these conversations without feeling weird around him, but it’s days like these where I wish none of us were in the spotlight at all. It’s where I wonder how life will be like for Maximoff, famous since birth.
We all lived our adolescence out of the public eye. They’re going to be raised right in it.
37
LILY CALLOWAY
Rose’s version of camping is unlike any I have ever known. She hired a person to put up a teepee in the backyard, with a fuzzy rug laid out over the grass, complete with plush pillows and a small table for sliders and macaroni and cheese—takeout from a five-star restaurant. Lamps are staked in the ground and Rose has sprayed something that might be magical. Not one mosquito or bug has ventured into our territory.
It’s the perfect setting for our girl’s campout, and I already love it. Being pampered in the outdoors is much better than swatting flies. However, Ryke called it “fake camping” and “over the top” but he shut up when he saw Daisy’s face. She smiled like Rose recreated a scene out of Hook for her.
Good thing too, since this is all for Daisy tonight.
She wants to try and sleep away from Ryke, battle her insomnia out here, with us. I’m only two weeks post-pregnancy, so I try to take it easy and lounge into the soft pillows. Rose and I have our baby monitors by our side and all the guys are indoors with Jane and Moffy. I can go one night without hovering.
I think.
I situate my headband that has two purple feathers poking out. I feel like Tiger Lily. All I need is a drum and a cool tribal dance. The headbands were Daisy’s contributions to the girls’ night. I realize that I only brought myself. Which is not really a contribution at all, but oh well.
I wash a bite of mac and cheese down with Fizz Life. “So you’re not going to do anything?” I ask Rose, trying to ingest this bit of information. I’m still stuck on the fact that she has surrendered to the journalists over the baby formula comments.
I should be grateful that there’s no double-edged sword like Ryke mentioned, but I just don’t understand. My sister usually goes on the offensive.
“What am I supposed to do?” Rose asks me. Her deep red feather headband makes her look even fiercer. “Kick and scream and cry?” She rolls her eyes. “I have to choose my battles and honestly, this is a trivial one. If they want to believe that I have a flock of assistants raising my child, then so be it.”
My brows furrow. “Is this like the sex tapes then?” I know she chose to let the lawsuit go to use the publicity to their advantage, but with more and more tapes being revealed, it doesn’t ever seem worth it.
She shoots me a withering glare and I shrink back. Whoa. I feel the icy burn, and it’s not so pleasant.
“I don’t want to talk about the sex tapes,” she says, a hint of pain behind her words.
Oh. I didn’t realize how much they’d been affecting her. She puts on a good front.
“Let’s talk about something else then,” Daisy suggests, crossing her legs. She braids a fringe pillow, her bowl of mac and cheese already empty. “I read a tabloid yesterday that said you looked thin.”
“That’s the magic of black peplum dresses,” Rose says in a wistful voice. “I still need to lose about fifteen pounds before I go back to my original size, but I’m sure my love handles are here to stay.” She glares at the house behind Daisy. “Connor is obsessed with them.”
I instantly smile. It ticks Rose off that Connor adores her curvy h*ps and butt. But secretly she loves him for it. Yep. After years, I’m beginning to understand these flirty fights a bit better.
I tug at my red Marvel onesie that’s snug around my abdomen. I’m only twenty pounds heavier right now, if that. And my belly is still pooched, but I figure once I have sex again, I’ll burn some calories. “Are you working out?” I ask Rose. My eyes widen at the idea of Rose running miles down the street.
“Just from videos in the privacy of my bedroom.” Meaning she does not allow anyone to watch her. Message received. “And I’m doing this for me, not for Connor.” She eats some popcorn from a bowl between us. “How much have you gained?” Her question is directed to Daisy.
“Since when?” she asks.
“Since your lowest weight,” Rose asks, curiosity in her eyes. Ever since Daisy quit modeling, she hasn’t been as hesitant to eat the foods she likes.
“Fifteen pounds,” Daisy says, tucking her platinum blonde hair behind her ear.
“You look beautiful,” Rose tells her in the nicest voice she has.
I nod in agreement. She’s healthier than I’ve seen her in a long time.
“Thanks,” Daisy smiles. “I definitely don’t feel as bony. Ryke says that I have more muscle in my legs again.”
Ryke is a good one. In a lot of ways, he brought Daisy back from a really dark place. I wish that we could’ve been there for her, but Rose and I were dealing with our pregnancies. And my addiction. I had no idea…
“Don’t cry,” Daisy says sweetly, scooching closer and wrapping her arm around my shoulder.
“I’m just happy,” I whisper to her, rubbing my eyes with the back of my hand.
Rose’s phone suddenly dings and glows bright blue, not a texting sound.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“I have alerts for whenever there’s an article about Jane.”
I gape. This changes everything. “I cannot be faulted for checking the media now.” If Rose is doing it, it has to be sane. Lo may disagree with that logic, but it seems sound to me.
Rose ignores my statement, her eyes skimming the article, and I watch them slowly narrow.
Oh no. “What?” I ask, fear invading my voice.
“Those little shits posted the photos.” She shakes her head in disbelief and passes Daisy her cellphone. I think I already know where this is going.
Yesterday, Rose and I brought our babies on a walk down the neighborhood street. Since it’s gated, we thought it was safe to use strollers without any blankets covering the top. About five minutes in and the prankster teenagers sprung out of their passing Range Rover, snapping photos of Jane and Maximoff.
A part of me thought maybe they were just joking and wouldn’t sell them to the press. Not so. I peek over Daisy’s shoulder. I am staring right at a picture of both Jane and Moffy in their strollers, small tiny babies who were wide-awake and began wailing after the sudden commotion.
Sure, the pics are a little blurry, but that obviously doesn’t matter to the media.
The caption: First baby photos of Jane Cobalt and Maximoff Hale! So adorable!
I smile. “Look they called them adorable.”
Rose glowers at me again. Zero for two today. “They’re babies. No one will call a baby an ugly gremlin.”