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I think I’d love that, to see her grow into her own being without my constant influence. It’s something my mother never liked from us.
I finish cutting the last pepper and hand Ryke the jar of marinara sauce. “Speaking of my sisters…”
He meets my eyes. “We were only talking about Lily, not all of your sisters.” I’m about to retract the jar, but he yanks it out of my grasp and unscrews the lid.
I can’t back down now. “How are you and Daisy?”
“We’re fucking fine.” He shrugs and searches for a spatula. It’s that movement, the shrug, that has me crossing my arms.
“Just fine?” I wonder. I could ask Daisy, but she always says the same thing.
He lets out a frustrated groan, banging a drawer closed. Then he runs his hands through his hair. When he exhales, he says, “The last time I talked about my relationship, I was given a twenty-minute lecture about taking a break from her. So yeah, I’m not too fucking chatty about it.”
My gaze narrows. “Poppy?” I’m aware of my sister’s protest to Daisy being with Ryke because of “timing” she’s told me.
He nods once.
Loren reaches across the bar and plucks out a spatula from the utensil holder. It’s sitting right in front of Ryke. He passes it to his older brother. “What’s her problem?” Lo asks.
“Apparently she took a year-long break from Sam during their first year of college, and she said it helped her put into perspective what she fucking wanted out of life. Poppy wants me to give Daisy the chance to ‘find herself’ before committing to something serious.” He spreads sauce over the dough. “The thing is: Daisy and I—we’ve both been alone more than anyone in this fucking house, and if I truly thought that was what Daisy wanted, I’d break up with her tomorrow so she could be happy. Even if I’d be fucking miserable.”
“Rose was a virgin until she was twenty-three,” Loren pipes in. “I think she beats you on the alone thing, bro.”
“He’s not talking about sex, Loren.”
Lo ignores me and focuses on his brother. “Are you sure she doesn’t want a break?”
“I’m telling you, I keep asking her—to the point of annoyance—just to make sure, and she keeps saying no.” Daisy hasn’t discussed the topic with me, but I can’t see my little sister lying to Ryke just to pacify him.
“What’s Daisy annoyed look like?” Lo pops another pepperoni in his mouth. I’ve never seen that sentiment from my sister either.
“Frazzled. She’ll try to distract me off topic, and then when she gives up, she’ll say please stop in this really pained voice, like I’m crushing glass in her ears. It fucking sucks.”
It reminds me that he’s been with her for a year and a half. “You don’t have to take a break just because my older sister tells you it’s right,” I say. “It was right for Poppy and Sam, but that doesn’t make it right for you and Daisy. Every relationship is different.”
It’s easy to weigh personal experiences against other people’s relationships, but we can’t see the ins and outs and complexities of other couples the way that we understand and live through our own.
Ryke nods. “I know, but I want to marry that girl one day. And it just really fucking sucks—because I’d get down on one knee tomorrow if people in her family didn’t hate us together.”
I gape, my mouth falling further and further. He wants to marry Daisy. He wants to marry my baby sister. I haven’t been sure whether he even values marriage because he never talks about it to anyone.
But his opinion makes sense to me now. I’ve never seen him so infatuated and head-over-heels in love with someone the way that he is with Daisy. And he craves familial companionship since he didn’t have any growing up. So it’s not hard to believe he’d want his own someday.
My cold heart unthaws—that is, before Lo’s voice freezes it back over.
“When have other people’s opinions ever stopped you?” Lo asks. That actually wasn’t so bad.
Ryke heads to the fridge. “Daisy cares, and if she cares, then I fucking care.” He grabs a bag of mozzarella and returns to the pizza. “Weddings and proposals—those are supposed to be happy experiences. I don’t want anyone’s judgment ruining that. Daisy deserves one day that belongs to her without any drama, and I can’t give her that yet.” He shakes his head. “It’s all just bad fucking timing. With everything.”
Because of the shit storm.
He has no idea if he’ll be able to propose, ever. “Fate will be in your favor,” I tell him.
“Rose thinks she can predict the future now,” Lo mocks.
“I just have hope, Loren,” I say. “Where’s yours?”
Lo smiles, not a bitter one this time. “If I can be sober and raise a kid, I think anything’s possible.”
Ryke motions to Lo’s cutting board, only four thick pieces of pepperoni sliced. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Taking my time,” Lo says. “And in the spirit of bad timing, I think we need to call a house meeting. I have something else I need to discuss.”
I frown. “Right now?”
“Since everyone seems so willing to share, yeah, right now.” He raises his brows. “You need me to text your husband for you?”
I roll my eyes but don’t answer him.
“I’ll take your silence as a yes, of course, I love you, Loren Hale.”
“Don’t make me use this knife on you.” I wave it threateningly, but he’s too preoccupied with his cellphone to make a snarky remark. Whatever he wants to talk about…I think it may be serious.
[ 43 ]
ROSE COBALT
“Can you both put the weapons away before we start the meeting?” Lily bounces Moffy on her hip, her eyes darting between Lo and me.
I brace my knife less like a kitchen utensil and more like artillery. It doesn’t help that Connor is here now, securing Jane in her highchair. I slyly look his way, expecting him to steal a glance at me in return.
He doesn’t.
Ignoring him is taking more effort than I ever thought it would.
Coconut eats out of her bowl next to the breakfast table, and Daisy slides onto the stool beside Loren. We’re all here, the pizza baking and infusing pepperoni and cheese flavors in the air. It takes Loren a long while to actually drop his knife, and I realize that my grip is just as tight as before.
Lily says, “You too, Rose.”
Fine. I gently set the knife in its holder. Then I fetch Jane’s food. I chopped kiwi earlier into cube-sized pieces, and so I collect that from the fridge and scoop some yogurt into a tiny bowl. The hard part is approaching Jane’s highchair with Connor so close.
He looks over his shoulder at me, and I whip my head in the other direction, just barely catching the quirk of his lips. I will not fail at ignoring him. You can do this, Rose.
I slide the kiwi and yogurt to Daisy. “Give this to Connor,” I instruct. Then I add the perfunctory, “Please.” Although my pleases never sound as soft and inviting as others.
Daisy hops off the bar stool without hesitation. “You’re still ignoring him?” I let my sisters in on my business earlier today.
“Until ten a.m. tomorrow,” I say.
“This is ridiculous,” Loren pipes in, watching my little sister hand off Jane’s food to my husband. When I glance at him again, his deep blue eyes are pinned on me, his grin escalating every time we make contact. His expression says, you can’t look away, can you, Rose?
I can.
Watch me. I focus on Loren and his sharp jawline and half-grimace that practically says, ew, why the hell are you staring at me?
“There have to be repercussions for losing,” I tell my brother-in-law. “So no, it’s not ridiculous, Loren. It’s the price of failure.”
Connor says, “It’s hardly a failure when there were distractions.”
I snort. “Loren, tell Richard that one wrong question still means he lost, and that he’s the one who says ‘distraction’ is a word that ‘losers’ use to m
ake themselves feel better.” I have to keep my back to Connor, even if I ache to turn around and glare in his direction.
Loren opens his mouth, but Connor speaks before he can even reiterate.
“My wife being injured unquestionably ranks above a competitor sneezing during a quiz bowl tournament.”
I can’t argue this. Someone’s seasonal allergies did fuck with my concentration during academic bowls in college, and he’ll never let me live it down.
I growl. “Loren, tell Connor that I know his overinflated ego can’t handle the word failure but by its definition, it still applies.”
“For Christ’s sake,” Lo interjects. “Both of you shut up.”
I only comply because he lets out a heavy breath, and I remember that he called this meeting and gathered everyone together.
Lily secures Moffy in his highchair next to Jane, and from her expression alone, I can’t discern whether she already knows about the topic at hand.
Lo rests his elbows on the counter, hunching forward. “The babies are almost going to be a year old, and we still haven’t chosen godparents.”
The air thins.
Godparents. I crave to look at Connor and see if his complacency cracks for a brief second.
