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Rose looks not amused, her black manicured nail pointed at Lily. “If my husband is an alien, yours was born in the underworld.”
“Well,” I say, “Loren Hale is smoking hot.”
Lily points at Rose. “Ha!”
Rose huffs like that is not what she was implying, and her attention cements to me. “How’s the panda bear search going?” It sounds silly from Rose, but she confidently owns every word. If someone dared to make fun of her, she’d be quick to shut them up.
Panda bear is a code name for getting pregnant. It would be devastating if the media found out before I told my parents, so one night over nail polish and a One Tree Hill marathon, we all concocted secret terms.
“I’m not sure,” I admit. “I haven’t had any bamboo in like six weeks, so…I guess that’s promising?”
Lily stares at the ceiling with cinched brows. “I’m lost.” She forgot the code words.
Poppy whispers in her ear. My oldest sister wears a silver sequined, vintage dress—what Rose called 1920s inspired. It suits Poppy’s carefree nature.
Rose snaps her fingers at me, and I smile at her, attention regained. “Six weeks?” she states like I’m insane. “Why haven’t you…” She lowers her voice. “Taken a test yet?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I guess I just want to wait. In case.” I’m nervous to take one after the handful of failed tests. I can’t imagine anyone would like feeling repetitious rejection.
“You need to take one,” Rose tells me pointedly.
I glance at the window, the city streets alive. “Right now?” I ask, the mission more enthralling than the actual act of taking a test. Let’s go see the world. All of us together. My lips begin to rise.
“Only if you want to.”
“Will Connor mind?” I wonder. We’re here in solidarity, and I wouldn’t want to bail if it hurt his feelings. Though when it comes to Connor Cobalt, it’s very hard to do just that.
Rose takes my hand. “No. Not at all.”
I nod, eager to leave. She ushers me towards the large double doors, and I snatch Lily’s hand to follow. She’s quick to grab Poppy’s.
“Where are we going?” Lily asks us.
“The drugstore,” I say and then notice leering gazes. My lips lift and I raise my voice. “We’re getting condoms and party blowers.”
People give us the strongest side-eyes, but we don’t turn back or cower. Together, all four of us, we’re more invincible against the world’s judgment.
But deep down I know that the night can only end in one of two ways:
Yes or No.
RYKE MEADOWS
A fourth tray of pink and gold champagne passes us, and Lo snatches the server’s elbow and points at the table with cubed cheese. “Is this all the food?”
The server nods to us, in recognition, like he understands who we are from the media. “Champagne?” he offers.
“No,” I say pretty fucking rudely. He must know that my little brother is a recovering alcoholic, and still, he was willing to give him a drink.
Lo sets a firm hand on my shoulder. “Pardon my brother, we both suffer from the same hereditary disease called being a dick. Assholes Anonymous couldn’t even cure us.” He gives him a half-smile that says, good fucking bye.
The server takes the hint.
Lo spins back to the table, and my stomach fucking grumbles.
“Connor owes me big time.” He picks up a toothpick with an olive-sized meatball. “What the hell is this?” I’m just as fucking offended by the thing. “He said there would be food here.”
Sam motions to the toothpick with his champagne. “What do you call what you’re eating?” He’s been hanging around us all night, most of these people acquaintances with Connor.
“A snack,” Lo retorts.
I haven’t seen Connor since we arrived, and I scan the crowds for any sign of him.
“Did he think we wouldn’t come or something?” Lo asks. “Because teasing us by describing a five-course meal this morning was just goddamn insensitive.”
I focus back on Lo. “Since when is Connor Cobalt ever fucking sensitive?”
He shrugs and eats the tiny meatball. “Did he tell you?”
I frown. “Tell me what?”
Lo hesitates before he spills the news. “Dad wrote him a letter, apologizing for what happened.”
My brows furrow. “Wait, what?”
“I almost didn’t believe it too,” he says in that Loren Hale—I’m going to always forgive my dad, even when he’s fucking abusive—way. It puts me on guard. This is just Jonathan manipulating him again. That’s it.
Jonathan is not a good fucking person. If I have to keep reminding myself of this fact, does it make it less true?
Lo adds, “Connor showed me the letter.”
“Where was I?” I growl.
“Dealing with your own shit,” Lo snaps. “Does it really matter?”
I shake my head. “No…” I don’t always have to be a part of everything like Connor and Rose. I’m okay with not carrying everyone’s baggage, but I do want to be there for my little brother.
I don’t know what to think of our dad’s apology letter to Connor. I’m not on solid footing with Jonathan. Changing my name was a big fucking deal, and I wasn’t sure how he’d react. Especially since I put off helping him with Willow—to the point where he just did his own fucking thing without my input.
He hasn’t brought up my name change in our brief conversations, and part of me wonders if he’s looking past it.
Just so he doesn’t push me further away.
Our dad once told me that he’d be willing to do anything if it meant protecting Lo and me. His kids that he loves. He’d get sober. He’d even hurt Connor if he thought—in his deluded mind—that it’d save Lo from an enemy that never existed.
He’s been handing me olive branches. I’ve been throwing them back in his face.
“Connor accepted his apology,” Lo tells me.
My head sways in surprise. And I see the words my brother’s not saying: Why can’t you be okay with him like Connor is?
I don’t know.
Maybe it’s the fact that he could apologize to Connor, for hurting him, but he never apologized to me. Not once in his life has he uttered those two words to my fucking face. I’m sorry, son. For casting you out like a bastard.
I’ve never even seen his remorse for what he did.
My brother’s amber judgment feels hot on me. I scratch my unshaven jaw and then loosen my tie. He rolls his eyes, dropping the conversation and searches the ballroom.
“Where’s Lily?” he asks, swinging his head back and forth. I don’t see any of the girls either, and my muscles begin to bind.
“I saw the girls leave about ten minutes ago,” Sam just now tells us.
Lo pats him hard on the shoulder. “Thanks for letting us know ten minutes ago, Sammy.”
“It looked like they wanted to be alone,” Sam rebuts.
Lo picks up another toothpick. “I bet they’re eating real food.”
Rose wouldn’t leave her husband’s party for a fucking burger. I pull out my cell and send Daisy a text: Where’d you go?
I type another to Lily: If you’re getting food, get something for your husband. He’s practically fucking frothing at the mouth.
Just as I send the message, a man in a traditional tuxedo and fucking evening scarf approaches my little brother. I miss his name, but I hear the part where he’s the CEO of an up-and-coming startup in California.
This is the reason we’ve segregated ourselves from the girls all night. Even though Rose and Lily are business owners, no one seeks them out for referrals or pitches like they do Sam, Lo, and Connor. Not unless it’s about Queens of Philadelphia. It’s fucking sexist, but I’m happy the girls don’t have this headache on New Year’s Eve.
Lo even told me to “get the fuck away from him and have a good time”—but I can’t leave my brother. He spent the early
part of the night listening to pitches, but now he’s pretty much done. He procures a business card with his assistant’s contacts and hands it to the man.
“Call or email me,” Lo says in a tone that shuts off further conversation, even closing off his body from him. He’s fucking good at that.
The man mutters, “Thanks.” And he shuffles away.
Sam downs the rest of his champagne, his mild annoyance flaring in his eyes.
Lo glares. “If you want to fucking say something, Sammy, just say it.”
Sam checks over his shoulder for more liquor. The nearest server is helping a cluster of women.
My phone pings.
Across the street. We’re on a mission. – Daisy
Seconds later, Lily replies.
We’re going to the drugstore. I can get him some snacks. – Lily
My brows knot. The drugstore?
“I didn’t ask for this, you know,” Lo tells Sam. “Generally, I think I have the kind of face that says: fuck off, don’t you dare goddamn talk to me. Apparently these people woke up blind or stupid because they’re just not getting it.”
