“She’s embarrassed about what happened,” Connor clarifies. “Good thing for you, Ryke, you may not have to deal with her for a while.”
“Fucking fantastic,” he says, heading to the door. I’m not sure my mom’s silent treatment is any better than her constant, nagging presence. At least, for me the quiet moments have granted more nausea than the early weeks of my pregnancy.
Lo slips the green shirt over his head. “Ready?” he asks me. Lo and I don’t attend luncheons all that much, but we decided to come to this one in support of Ryke and his relationship with Daisy. It won’t be as hard with my mom here, but I still have a huge baby bomb to drop today.
I’m praying he’ll withstand the blow.
62
2 years : 03 months
November
LILY CALLOWAY
“Let’s talk about the future little Calloway,” Jonathan says at the dining room table, Sunday family luncheon in session.
“Cobalt,” Connor corrects him, sipping his wine.
Jonathan’s eyes flicker to the liquor briefly, but he makes no motion to switch his coffee for alcohol. I can barely believe he’s sober. I don’t even think Jonathan believes it, but three twenty-four-seven sober coaches sit on chairs by the door, proving that he’s dedicated to his rehabilitation.
“Right,” Jonathan says. “Whatever you need for your baby, Hale Co. will provide: toys, cribs, diapers.”
After Connor learned about Rose’s pregnancy on the road trip, my sister announced the news to the family and subsequently the world. Television networks have been proposing a new reality show that focuses on the days leading up to the birth. They’ve turned them down, but the excitement from fans, family and friends is palpable.
I just have a strong feeling my news will have the exact opposite effect.
“I’m barely warming to the idea that I’m breeding,” Rose says, pinching the stem of a wine glass, water only, “so can you please not talk about baby toys? The last thing I need to think about is a toddler smacking me with a rattle.”
“The best part,” Lo says, “those toys have my last name scribbled on the side.” He gives her a signature half-smile. Rose’s baby playing with a Hale-monogramed toy—that’s a picture she would not accept in any universe.
Rose’s eyes narrow icily. “I’d like to see the reviews on those plastic rattles. I bet twenty kids have choked on them already.”
“That insult died in your womb.”
Rose rolls her eyes. “Your insensitivity isn’t anything new, Loren.”
“I’m sorry,” he says flatly, “I didn’t realize that witches had feelings beyond satanic anger.”
Okay, this is heading in dangerous territory. I pinch Lo’s arm, and he takes the hint, grabbing his water to stop himself from going on.
“What happens if you have a boy?” Daisy asks from the other end of the table, with Ryke, Sam, Poppy and my dad. Ryke has his arm around the back of her chair, which may or may not be a good move. I can’t tell where my father is concerned. He cuts his prime rib with a steak knife, looking to Ryke every so often in stiff warning.
Rose silently fumes at the question, her knife ripping into her salmon. She demolishes the tender piece of fish, and Connor rests his palm on Rose’s hand. She slows down her jerky knife movements.
Rose says, “Then I’ll try to get pregnant right afterwards, just so I can have a girl.”
Connor grins, a blinding one. “I don’t pray to anyone but myself, but I may make an exception, just so we can have a boy first.” He wants lots and lots of kids, so Rose’s proclamation is like his heaven right now.
“Your prayers won’t work against fate,” Rose retorts. “There’s a fifty percent chance I’ll win over you.”
“It’s not fate. It’s science, darling.”
“We’ll see then,” she says.
Connor’s grin stretches across his face, and he says a word or two aloud in French and then stops himself. He rarely looks irritated, but on account of a certain someone lying about their foreign language knowledge, it has induced a Connor Cobalt scowl.
“What other languages don’t you know?” Connor asks Ryke from across the table. All this time, Ryke has understood what Rose and Connor whisper about in French. So unfair. He’s fluent in French and Spanish, for sure, from studying as a kid, per his mother’s strict request.
“Why?” Ryke asks. “Is it that important that you talk in code with your wife?”
I raise my hand sheepishly. “I just want to add,” I say to Connor and my sister, “that I don’t understand some of the things you say in English. That is all.” Everyone stares at me for a hot second, and I kinda slump in my seat, regretting that interjection. There are just way too many people at this table.
Connor tells him, “Rose only knows French, so that’s really not the point.” He goes off and adds a couple words in what sounds like Italian.
Ryke absentmindedly replies back in the same language, just as fluent.
Connor looks amused, like he’s playing with a new toy that’s built to test his wits. He switches to German, which sounds pretty on his tongue, but Ryke has enough of this game that Connor wants to start. He shuts it down with a middle finger.
My father looks ticked off, wiping his mouth with his napkin. I’m sure he wanted someone less vulgar for Daisy.
But my little sister hardly cares about my dad’s feelings. She pushes her food around on her plate, more sullen since the jail incident. She just hasn’t forgiven our parents yet.
Lo asks the nearest server to bring out coffee, and I realize it’s for me. I’ve been yawning more than usual, and on the plane ride from California to Pennsylvania, I basically passed out from exhaustion. He’s catching on. Yesterday he said that he’d take me to the doctor, but I mumbled a no thanks and distracted him with sex. Not one of my most noble moments.
After lunch, I remind myself. He’ll learn that our new future will consist of an extra person. I stare at the white tablecloth. It’s scarier when I think of it like that. How are we going to be responsible for another human being?
We’ve struggled for so long just to take care of ourselves.
“So when will you start showing?” Lo asks Rose, actually nicely. Maybe this won’t be so bad.
“I already have a small bump,” she says, trying to salvage the salmon she demolished on her plate.
“What happens when they find hooves on the ultrasound?” His nice streak didn’t last long.
Jonathan cuts in, “Honestly, Loren, when you take over Hale Co. you have to be more sensitive to these things. The company has already been through hell and back. It won’t survive if you don’t care about the industry.”
Lo grinds his teeth before saying, “Like you’re so sensitive? Like you care about this shit?”
Jonathan devours the insult with a harsh glare. “When you’re a father—”
“That’s just it, I won’t ever be a father,” Lo interjects, gripping the table as he leans closer to Jonathan. My heart catapults to my throat.
I’m paralyzed from head to toe.
“You love to do the opposite of everything I say,” Jonathan declares. “I tell you to run. You walk. I tell you to drink. You get sober. I tell you to lead my company. You start your own.”