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Wasn’t dreaming. Lo and whoever else have definitely been talking about the fact that Willow and I are having sex. Maybe because of the whole “blow job” slip-up back in August. Who knows?
Willow’s eyes are saucers, skin pale.
“Do things,” I say, almost near laughter. “How old are we?”
“Seven years younger than me,” Lo says swiftly like he has comebacks on speed dial. “And I was censoring myself for my sister. I could definitely be cruder if you’d like. Would you like that?”
Wow, he’s pissy today.
“No,” I snap. “Got it. Loud and clear. All of you can have sex, but we’re celibate.” And I realize my mistake as soon as I say it.
“No, sweetheart, you get to be celibate just like me and Lil,” Lo replies with a half-smile and all. That’s right—Lily and Lo are not allowed to have sex for the six weeks after Luna was born. Since Luna Hale came into this world at the end of November, Lo still has some time left with just his hand.
“Lo,” Willow mutters, “we don’t get to see each other that much.” Translation: we never usually get to have sex.
Lo cringes like Willow said the untranslated version. “Fine,” he concedes sharply.
“We’ll be quiet,” I tell him. But he’s already waving me off with a hand and walking into the house.
Willow and I exchange a look before breaking into laughter. It’s cut short when Ryke ascends the stairs, reaching the deck with Coconut jumping excitedly beside him.
His eyes hit Willow. “Dad was just on the phone. He said he’s been trying to call you.”
The air deadens, and the wind suddenly picks up.
Ryke’s brown eyes carry confusion. “Why is he fucking calling you so much?”
Willow shrugs. “We talk every week about school.”
I guess that’s not a lie. Shit, I hate that she has to lie to them. But I am glad that she’s not alone in this secret. She has me.
Ryke rubs his lips. No gloves on. But he hardly looks cold. “You need to be careful, Willow.”
She nods. “I know.”
His warning stays with me, even after he leaves.
61
willow hale
Sitting against the frosted windowpane, I read a hefty Fundamental Accounting Principles textbook. The next semester starts in January, and I want to get a head start on the reading material. Last semester was tough enough, and my housing issues only makes studying harder.
I spend most days in the student center “quiet zones” and rarely go home. According to upperclassmen, the business courses only get more difficult from here.
Fire roars in the warm, spacious living room. The lake house feels as big as a lodge with vaulted ceilings and balconies that overlook robust leather furniture, wooly rugs, and the stone fireplace.
In the corner, wrapped gifts sit beneath a real fir tree, recently chopped. No ornaments hang on the branches because no one bothered to redecorate. The first fully glammed-out Christmas tree had a hidden nest of spiders.
It was a whole holiday fiasco.
I flip a page and hear the distant cries of a baby.
Must be Luna Hale or Eliot Cobalt, both newborns. The media is rampant with “baby fever” articles about Rose and Lily. Mostly, I think they’re trying to determine how many children Rose and Connor will have.
The Cobalts want an empire, and right now Rose is pregnant with baby number five. But truthfully, I don’t know what constitutes an empire. Five? Six? Fifteen?
I mean…I can’t imagine fifteen Cobalt babies. That’s…a lot.
Cries grow louder.
From the other side of the window nook, Garrison lifts his head from his laptop. He glances up at the tier of balconies. Hearing the baby wails too. When he drops his head, his eyes meet mine, and his feet rub against my feet. His black wool socks caressing my mustard-yellow ones.
My lips slowly rise. Not much can beat these quiet moments with Garrison Abbey. Sharing company and doing normal everyday things together.
“Do you ever think about babies?” Garrison asks suddenly and abruptly.
“Uh…babies…like the small kind?” Oh God…
What other kind are there, Willow?
Garrison licks his lips, a smile forming. “I mean, we can talk about the big babies in the house, but I think Lo has already taken a lot of our time this trip.”
I match his smile. “Sorry…I think all functions shutdown at the word babies when referring to my life. I’m rebooted now.”
“And?” he asks.
“And…” I take a deep breath and nudge my glasses. “I never thought much about them before. I’ve just been focused on getting into college, paying for college, and now trying to survive college.” I close my book and hug the hard binding to my chest, thinking. “But I want the traditional route, I guess. Marriage. Then maybe a baby.”
“A baby.” Garrison emphasizes the singularity of the sentence.
I shrug. “One seems like a good start…or end…or I don’t know. What do you think about babies?” Our eyes search each other deeply and eagerly, but my body roasts from head to toe. We rarely discuss after I graduate and what lies beyond our early twenties. I still have five semesters left in college, and those upcoming years seem like a millennium.
