Thrive (35 page)

{ 61 }

2 years : 03 months

November

LILY CALLOWAY

I have been included into the boy club by
accident. No one noticed me except Lo, but he’s not about to kick me out of my
father’s den. This has to mean that my invisibility powers are blooming. Maybe
my baby is magical. The thought almost makes the pregnancy not so bad.

“What are you wearing?” Lo asks his brother with a frown.
Connor, Lo, and Sam dragged Ryke into the den the moment he parked his Ducati
in my parent’s driveway, Daisy with him. The Sunday luncheon starts in thirty
minutes, so I thought it was a success that he showed up on time or even at
all, clearly putting effort into his relationship with my little sister. He
accepted my dad’s invitation even after my mom had Ryke thrown in jail. This
was my father’s version of waving a white flag.

Ryke making peace and putting the issue behind him actually
eases a lot of tension. And I know he’s doing this to try to repair the bridge
between Daisy and my parents, the one that’s been crumbling.

“It’s lunch,” Ryke says like they’re crazy. “I’m wearing a
fucking shirt and pants.”

All of the other guys are dressed in button-downs and black
slacks. “It’s formal,” Lo tells his brother. “I thought you realized that.”

Ryke glares at the ceiling and then checks his watch. “I
don’t have time to go back.”

“You can switch with me,” Lo says, already unbuttoning his
shirt. I sit on the armrest of the couch, watching my boyfriend shed his
clothes. I cross my ankles, and Lo glances back at me knowingly. The corner of
his lips rise.

Yes. I am very, very
attracted to you.
But my traitorous-self stops fawning over his defined
muscles and sculpted chest. My smile fades. Lo frowns at me, but he’s
distracted by his brother, who anxiously runs his hands through his hair. He
really needs to stop messing with the strands. My parents don’t like the whole
disheveled, I-just-rolled-out-of-bed look.

“Aren’t you going to get in trouble for wearing a regular
T-shirt?” he asks Lo like
what the fuck?
Seemingly,
there is a flaw in this plan.

But Sam clears it up. “He’s Loren Hale.” Yep, that about
describes the difference nicely.

Ryke’s face hardens. He touches his chest. “And I’m Ryke
Meadows. What the fuck are you getting at?”

Sam whistles. “You don’t know Greg Calloway that well, do
you?”

Lo passes Ryke the shirt. “What Sammy is trying to say is
that I’m going to get special treatment. You’re not.” He clarifies, “Dad raised
me and he’s Greg’s best friend. Plus, I’m not dating the youngest Calloway girl.”
Lo faces Sam Stokes, who stands rigid, a string of animosity between them.
Faint but visible in their closed-off postures. “I got the best free pass while
you had to jump through ten-thousand hoops. Poppy’s money must have meant
so much
to you.”

“No amount of money is worth the tests that Greg put me
through,” Sam says, his back arched in defense. “If you don’t believe that I
love Lily’s sister—”

“I’m just messing with you,” Lo says sharply.

Ryke holds the button-down, solidified to stone as he
processes what this means. I have a good feeling that Ryke will be tested just
like Sam. The question is: will he last to the very end or just give up on the
idea? “And Connor got a free pass too?” he asks.

“I was trusted from the start,” Connor says, busy texting,
only half in on this conversation. “Not shocking to anyone.” He grins.

“Maybe if I punched you, you’d be a little fucking shocked,”
Ryke says.

“Only because you always talk about it but never actually do
it,” Connor says. “What’s surprising is that I haven’t returned you to the
pound. I prefer my animals with a bigger bite.”

Ryke flips him off.

I spring to my feet and sidle next to Lo, my arm curving around
his bare waist. I feel his fingers brush the nape of my neck. Lily 1.0 would
have turned this scenario into a very, very sexual fantasy. Lily 3.0 has
snuffed most of them out, but I stand on the tips of my toes to kiss his cheek.

That felt good. Even better when Lo wears a genuinely happy
smile.

My body warms. Maybe I can tell him today. After lunch. He
seems to be in a much better place.

“I know Greg doesn’t like me, but I’m
trying
. Isn’t being here enough?” Ryke asks.

“No,” Sam says. “It’s a small start, but it’s definitely not
enough. I spent
years
trying to gain
his trust and his acceptance into the Calloway family. Since Jonathan is your
dad, it shouldn’t take you as long, but no offense, you’re notorious for being
with many women. I even questioned what you’re doing with Daisy.”

Ryke rolls his eyes, agitated, but has no reply. He takes
off his dark green tee, and I train my eyes to stay on Loren Hale for a
prolonged second.
 

“You have a tattoo?” Sam asks with a mixed expression like:
you’re screwed, buddy
and
I feel sorry for you.

I pipe in, “Didn’t you watch
Princesses of Philly?
” During the show, Ryke spent many weeks
filling in the tattoo along his shoulder and chest: a phoenix with some red and
orange coloring. A black chain is tied around the ankles of the bird and
extends along his ribcage, ending with an anchor by his hip. That anchor is in
a naughty place, and he knows it.

Sam just realizes that I’ve crept into the room.
Invisibility gone. “I never watched the show, no.”

Oh.

Ryke puts on Lo’s nice shirt and starts buttoning it. “So
what if I have a tattoo?”

“Greg hates tattoos,” he says.

“That’s too bad,” Ryke says flatly, “because his daughter
has one.”

Whaaa
. “Which
sister?” I ask.

Ryke gives me a look like I’m being dumb.

Oh. Right. Daisy.

Sam scratches the back of his head. “Word of advice, don’t
mention it now, or really ever. He’ll think you’re a bad influence on her.”

“He already thinks that,” Ryke retorts. “Just say it:
I’m fucked
.”

“Maybe you should fix your hair,” I suggest.

He lets out a frustrated growl and tries to comb his fingers
through the thick, messy strands. He’s making it worse. “Stop looking at me
with that face, Lily,” he retorts, more nervous than I’ve ever seen him.

“What face?”

“Your constipated face.”

I gape. “That is just mean.”

“That was pretty mean,” Lo says.

“It’s the fucking truth.”

I cross my arms. “You know what, I was going to help fix
your hair, but I’m retracting my offer.” I raise my chin in confidence.
Take that.

Connor finds a hole in my declaration. “You can’t retract an
offer that was never stated.”

I look at Ryke. “Would you like me to fix your hair?” He
opens his mouth, but I cut him off. “I retract my offer. Ha!” I raise my fist
to Lo, and he knuckle-bumps me. And then he kisses my temple. I got a kiss out
of that. I try not to smile too hard.

“As fun as this is,” Sam says with his phone in hand, not
sounding as amused as the rest of us, “we better head into the dining room.
Poppy just texted me. Jonathan is here, and apparently Samantha’s not coming.”

“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.”

I remember—one time, maybe on our very first date as a real
couple—Lo professed a similar acknowledgement of his teenage rebellion. But
this is different.

Lo’s face reddens in anger. “Get this through your head.”
Every word is emblazoned with power. “I will
never
subject a child to this fucking torture. I’d rather be burned
alive than live knowing I put someone through this kind of hell.” It’s like a
fist has torn out my heart, snapping each artery terrifyingly slow. And he just
continues on. “So destroy all of those goddamn dreams of grandchildren.” He
rises to his feet. “Your Hale empire begins over there, with him.” Lo points at
Ryke down the table. “Not me.”

He throws the cloth napkin on his seat and walks away,
fuming.

I can’t follow him. My haunted, petrified gaze is fixed on
my half-eaten plate of food. Tears are submerged beneath the weight of his
opinion. He’d rather die than embrace the thought of bringing life into the
world.

“Lily,” Rose whispers.

I’m okay.

I internally shake my head. I’m not.

I don’t see how I can ever break this news in a good way. I
don’t see how
this
can ever be okay
like I hoped.