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“What the fuck are you supposed to be?” Ryke asks. He leans forward to try and peer at the corner of the image. “Is that Rose?”
In a slinky red dress, Rose has her arms crossed, standing and glaring on the fourth stair behind me.
“Who else would I be?” Rose snaps.
“The devil,” Lo comments.
“You look scary in that picture,” Lily pipes in. “Like scarier than usual.”
Rose has her hands on her large baby bump, her dark blue dress molding her pregnant frame. Around thirty weeks along. She said this would be her last week in heels, her feet starting to hurt in them, but her all-consuming confidence hasn’t diminished. She acts like her unborn babies are battle armor and precious rubies, nothing that wears her down or forces her into a chair.
Even when she does tire or look nauseous—which has happened a lot during this pregnancy—her supreme glare and raised chin says, we’ll be victorious, little gremlins.
As if they’re fighting with her, not against her.
I’m really grateful the doctor okayed her to fly, so I can have her here with me.
Rose fixes her yellow-green eyes on Lily. “I look angry because I broke my heel that night.”
“Maybe thirteen-year-olds shouldn’t be wearing heels,” Lo retorts.
“Maybe twenty-six-year-olds named Loren Hale should shut up,” Rose says and then whips her hair over her shoulder like I slayed you.
She almost did. He rebuts with, “I’m not the one who broke my heel, Miss Scarlet.”
Realization passes through Ryke’s features, and he turns to me. “You were Colonel Mustard?”
I nod. “We had a Mrs. Peacock from Clue too, but she bailed at the last minute because it was her best friend’s birthday.” I wiggle my brows at Lily and then smile at Lo.
They both glance at each other, like they remember Lily’s Eleventh Halloween and Lo’s Twelfth. Rose was the only one who agreed to go trick-or-treating with me, and despite her broken heel, I remember both of us having fun. I traded my Starbursts and Skittles for all her chocolate.
Across the table from each other, Connor asks Rose a short line in French.
I turn to Ryke to translate, too curious and a little bit concerned. I just hope she’s as comfortable here as she can be this far along in her pregnancy.
In a hushed voice, Ryke tells me, “He asked her, ‘te sens-tu malade?’ which means, do you feel sick?”
We both watch Rose reply with, “Pas aujourd’hui.”
Ryke whispers to me, “Not today.”
I saw Connor massaging Rose’s neck this morning at breakfast, and if they were seated next to each other right now, I have a feeling he’d help melt all of her pregnancy kinks.
Ryke leans back from me, but his coarse hand rubs up and down my arm. I tingle, the sensation zipping through me. Followed with a shiver, the jittery anticipation does a number on me.
He dips his head down to whisper, “You alright?”
We’re getting married.
My head lightens, and I dizzy as he strokes my arm again, thinking I’m cold.
Everyone has begun laughing loudly over a new photo: ten-year-old Rose, in two-inch black heels, carting a four-year-old me in a red wagon. Little eight-year-old Lily is worn out on the lawn, Lo picking a piece of grass out of her hair. I’m smiling so wide in the picture, my front tooth missing.
I answer Ryke quietly, “I’m just excited.” So excited that I start grinning like a fool every time I meet his eyes. I’m so giddy.
His own smile grows. “You look lovesick, Calloway.” He messes my hair.
“I think this must be the best sickness there is.” My cheeks hurt; I can’t contain anything.
Dink, dink, dink of a knife to a wine glass steals my attention elsewhere. My dad. He rises from the table with round rosy cheeks from all the Merlot. “Before the parents turn in, I want to share a surprise that has been in the works for some time, and hopefully there’ll only be more good surprises for Ryke and Daisy in the future.”
The irony is not lost upon most of the table.
Everyone—minus my parents and Jonathan and maybe nine-year-old Maria—share furtive glances. Full well knowing that I have a surprise in my oven, and it’s been baking for ten-weeks.
My sisters cried when I told them, but I’m not sure my surprise constitutes as a “good” one for my father. Bodies twitch, especially Poppy and Rose, and I just think, please, no one spill this news. Not the day before my wedding.
My dad takes a long pause. Too long for Loren Hale.
“What’s the surprise?” Lo asks. “Are we all going to be assholes and millionaires—oh wait…” He flashes a dry smile.
“Billionaire,” Connor corrects. Seated beside his best friend, he holds Lo’s gaze.
Lo mockingly winces. “You do realize that my profit margin is bigger than yours, love?”
Connor grins. “Mine is always bigger, darling.” Then he winks.
Jonathan scrutinizes them in the flickering torchlight, but he’s more relaxed than I thought he’d be. Connor and Lo are clearly just friends, both comfortable in their own skin.
“What’s the surprise, Dad?” I ask, bringing the spotlight back to the owner.
He smiles at me, and I return it, giddiness still fluttering inside my belly.
“Come August, I was hoping we could all travel to Utah for a family trip.”
There has to be a missing link somewhere because this trip to Peru is practically a family vacation with everyone here. And August is next month.
“What’s in Utah?” Lo asks with a slightly pained face. I wonder if he’s recalling what happened a long time ago on our road trip in Utah. A lot of “brotherly” fist fighting.
Surprisingly, Ryke answers, “Zion National Park.”
Sully starts smiling like he knows what’s at that national park. He mouths to Ryke, bring me.
Ryke rolls his eyes but nods and shakes his head like why are you even fucking asking? Of course you’re comin
g.
“I’m lost,” Lily proclaims, nudging her brownie with a fork.
“Am I fucking right?” Ryke asks my dad, both seemingly passing good vibes back and forth.
I lean back in my chair, relaxing more and keeping the butterflies alive.
My dad explains to the table, “Fizzle wants Ryke to free-solo Desert Shield, and we know he’ll be more inclined to accept this extremely generous offer if everyone attends in support.”
Jonathan adds to Ryke, “Don’t be an idiot. This is good money and a climb you could do in your goddamn sleep.”
“First off, I’m not a fucking idiot,” Ryke says, jaw tensing. “Secondly, The Moonlight Buttress is a better climb in the same area. It’s higher than Desert Shield.” Just by his tone, I can tell that he’s not as defensive about these cliffs as much as the last one they offered.
He told me that it was “fucking suicide” and he’d never step near it without a harness.
“He’s kind of right,” Sully tells our parents.
Jonathan narrows his eyes on Ryke. “Moonlight Buttress is a pitiful name and you’ve already free-soloed it.”
Sam chimes in, “Fizzle wanted a new rock face for you, and Desert Shield is still a thousand foot ascension.”
Lo shoves his empty strawberry shortcake plate away. “Jesus Christ, do we have to talk about this before his wedding?”
“Yes,” all the parents say in unison.
“The family needs to talk about this so we can come to a conclusion,” my mom clarifies. This really has been ongoing for a while, but I only want happiness today and tomorrow.
Ryke just ends it right here. “I need a week prep with Sully before I free-solo.”
“What for?” my dad asks.
Sully is quick to answer. “I’ll help Ryke clean his path and climb it together a few times. You don’t have to pay me—”
“Sul,” Ryke says. “It’s a job. You’re getting fucking paid.”
Sully smiles. “Yeah but I’d do it for free.”
Like a final gavel, my dad asks Ryke, “Desert Shield in August with the family there?”
With more light behind his eyes, Ryke nods. “Done deal.”
My dad raises his glasses in cheers, and we all lift ours and drink. Ryke seems really happy about the cliff they chose, excited even.
