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I reluctantly give him more of my attention.
“What do you want me to do?” he asks. “Play truth or dare again? Kiss your brother?”
I roll my eyes. Their kiss stirred up more trouble in the media than I thought it would, and I feel partly guilty for it—because I fronted the dare. He also accepted it to squash whatever beef we had at the time.
Lo stands more between us, trying to separate the tension. “Is that why we kissed?” He touches his heart. “I thought you loved me. After all this time.”
Connor smiles. “Always.”
I’m confused by the exchange.
My brother nods to me. “Harry Potter reference.”
I tense. “You’ve read Harry Potter?” I ask Connor.
“Lo gave me a set in March after I asked about it.”
I stare off for a second, trying not to appear hurt or jealous, even though both definitely hit me. Connor takes interest in other people’s hobbies to try and understand them more, and maybe I should have taken that fucking step too. Lo is my brother.
And I hate feeling like Connor would’ve made a better one than me.
“Ryke,” he says again, drawing my gaze to him, “I won’t take back what I said at the doctor. It’s the truth.”
“I didn’t ask for your fucking truths.”
“And yet, I did you a favor by providing them.”
I growl in frustration. “Just shut up for a second and listen to me.” I try not to look at Janie, propped against his side. It’s harder to let this out in a tone that says this is what I mean, and I’m not backing the fuck down. “You can’t talk to me like you did in the doctor’s office, not in front of Daisy.”
Connor wears a blank expression. “I didn’t think you would care about how you appear.”
I step closer and say lowly so only he can hear. “I’m her fiancé and when you question my ability to make rational decisions in front of her, I look far from fucking dependable. I don’t want her to worry about the choices we make.” I raise my hands, not trying to start something bigger. “I know that was your goal, but stop making goals that involve Dais and me.”
He looks genuinely hurt.
It takes me aback for a moment.
“You know,” he says, “if you were anyone else, I wouldn’t have even cared. Not enough to offer an opinion or even spend time thinking about it.” He says stiffly, “I’ll keep it to myself next time.”
When our personalities never mesh, it’s easier just arguing and hating on each other rather than making an effort to sustain a rickety friendship. I’ve grown to respect Connor, and he’s reciprocated that respect in return.
But if Rose ever becomes a surrogate for Daisy, it’ll tie the four of us together for life, and maybe he’s not seeing this. Or maybe he likes all the fucking strings that connect people to him.
I didn’t grow up like that.
Before I wrap my head around how to reply, Samuel Stokes detaches from a couple older men and walks over to us. He’s about thirty, thirty-one: Poppy’s husband and the Chief Marketing Officer of Fizzle.
He clutches a champagne flute, and the various entertainment journalists begin to snap photos, cameras flashing in waves.
“Hey, Sammy.” Lo gives him a dry smile. “You’ve got something hanging out of your nose.”
Sam never blinks, too used to Lo’s jabs.
Before ever meeting Sam, I thought he might’ve had a brotherly relationship with Lo. He grew up with my little brother more than I did, but I learned really fucking fast that wasn’t the kind of bond they shared.
Sam had been envious of Lo’s place within the Calloways, the easy acceptance because our father was Greg’s best friend. Sam wished for that same inherent respect, and he resented Lo for a long time. Now that they’re both older, they’ve let most of it go.
And they bicker like family.
“I mean,” Lo continues, “I don’t see why else the cameras would be so interested in you.”
They’re not just interested in Sam. They’re attracted to all four of us. Standing together.
Sam. Connor. Loren.
They’re all married to a Calloway sister. And I’m about to marry the youngest one.
At Sunday brunch, the girls like to tease us about the articles in Celebrity Crush—where the media apparently obsesses over our friendship like we’ve formed a fucking clique.
Though out of all of us, Lo is the favorite. There are thousands of fucking tweets like these:
@lilycalloways: everytime i think about loren hale the first thing that comes to mind is "what a beautiful male specimen"
@LiLoX23Hellion: I really can't say it all in 140 characters why I love Lo so much!
@lorenhale: LET ME SHOW YOU THE TACO WORLD LOREN
@ryshannemia: Loren Hale is the light of my life and the apple of my eye <3
@teacupsbooklove: I just want to hang out at Superheroes & Scones all day with Loren Hale. Is that too much to ask?
@lilyswampahat: Loren Hale isn't afraid of scary movies. I'm afraid of scary movies. I will watch them (but not really) as long as we can cuddle okay.
@halwaycomics: I love Lo because every time he’s down he manages to get back up again.
@ThisJabberwocky: Loren Hale is like a bourbon-filled chocolate; bitter and sweet.
@Iilycalloway: I've always loved comics, but lo inspired me to read even more and he helped me find out how much I love the x-men universe!
@iHeartBigBooks: #lorenhale shows us the true meaning of soulmate love #LiLo Forever
@isaboes: loren hale, if i didnt love you with lily so much i would ask you to be mine
@52_veronica: Loren Hale is one of my children. No one hurts my children. #mamabear
@ohlilycalloway: loren hale is a precious cinnamon roll who deserves every bit of happiness he gets and more
I have no fucking idea why people call him a cinnamon roll—all the fucking time—but they never say a bad thing about him. Some will hate on Lily instead, but the girls are always picked on more than us without justifiable reason.
“You know I’m babysitting your kid next weekend,” Sam replies easily to my brother. It’s his way of saying: be nicer to me, Loren.
Lo doesn’t play well with subtext, so I’m not surprised by his response. “For Lily. Because everyone knows it’s not for your favorite brother-in-law.” He tops it with the raise of his water glass, taking a swig like it’s bourbon.
“That would be me.” Connor grins, his arrogance making its fucking entrance.
I’m about to find something to eat, so I don’t have to be the center of anything.
“Oh shit,” Lo curses. “Father-in-law is approaching.”
“Fuck.” I rub my lips, my skin hot all of a sudden.
Connor isn’t even near breaking a sweat, immune to most tense situations.
Sam finishes off his champagne. “Just talk about the new product commercial for Ziff’s lime-aid flavor and he’ll get distracted.” Everyone knows I manage to put my foot in my fucking mouth when it comes to Daisy’s father. Sam can actually relate on some level since he had to grovel for Greg’s approval.
“Wait, you’re doing another commercial?” Lo asks me with a frown.
“Yeah.” I struggle to find words that’ll comfort him like it’s just for the money or I’m not climbing that much for it or I won’t die, little brother. None of them escape. They all just stick to my throat.
Sam fills the scalding silence as Greg walks over. “Ziff: Citrus Breeze. So far, it’s been a favorite among preteens.”
Fucking fantastic. “How much sugar is in it?”
Greg completes our circle of five, casually sidling between Connor and Sam. “If you think it’s too sweet, we can dilute your bottle for the commercial.” His tone is friendly.
Lo rests his arm on my shoulder. “Dammit, I was hoping you’d puke on Rose’s feet again.”
I did that when I chugged Ziff: Blue Squall and then climbed. “Not fucking happening.?
? I nudge his arm off my shoulder.
Greg never extends a hand out to me. His normally benign gaze narrows at my jeans and shirt. “Samantha put a lot of effort into this party. It would’ve been nice if you showed her a little respect by dressing appropriately.”
“Next time I will, but no one told us this was fu…formal.” I grimace; it took a lot of concentration not to accidentally curse.
Greg looks neither happy nor ready to kick my fucking ass. I did okay then.
“I forgot to text Ryke,” Lo adds on my behalf. “My bad.” I’d say that Connor is Greg’s favorite if it wasn’t for the media shit storm that surrounded him. Lo definitely has the most sway with the girls’ father.
His shoulders relax, less arched in offense. “I want to congratulate you,” he tells me. “I meant it when I said that I’m glad you’re a part of this family. You’ve taken good care of my daughter, especially recently…” He chokes up for a second.
Every guy goes rigid, even Connor.
Even me. Please don’t bring up kids. Please don’t fucking bring up kids.
Connor, Lo, and Sam are all aware that Daisy and I are trying to have a baby, and I don’t need one of them letting anything slip either.
“I think now, more than ever, she can look forward to her future,” Greg says with a couple nods, probably recalling the successful parts of her surgery. “And maybe in ten years, she’ll be stable with a good career and ready to have a child.”
Fuck.
