Kiss the Sky (13 page)

“Mothers are all slightly insane,” Connor says with a small
smile. He just quoted J.D. Salinger, and he waits for me to say so. But I keep
my lips tight like I lost him somewhere. His smile fades. “J.D. Salinger.”

“Really? Most mothers are instinctive philosophers,” I shoot
back.

He grins again. “Harriet Beecher Stowe. And I couldn’t agree
more.”

“I wasn’t trying to stump you, so don’t gloat.” I want to
hear the truth, not someone else’s words. “Tell me something real.”

And in one swift motion, he tugs my ankle, pulling me flat
on the mattress. My nightgown rises to my belly, revealing my black cotton
panties. Before I can fix it, he startles me by placing his hands on either
side of my body, hovering above me. There’s challenge in his eyes. To stay
still. To not be afraid of him.

I inhale, fire brewing inside of me. I don’t shift my
nightgown, and my eyes narrow, finding my combative side. “You didn’t answer
me.”

His eyes dance over my features. “You’re not going to like
what I have to say.”

“I don’t care. Just tell me anything.”

“As long as it’s real?”

“Yes.”

He smiles. “Where do I even start?” His hand skims the
bareness of my knee, up towards my thigh. “Besides what I’d love to do to you
right now and tomorrow and for the rest of my life, I hope that someday, I’ll
watch you grow big and round…” He kisses my belly, and his mouth trails a line
to my hipbone, dangerously close to my panties. “…and I’ll hold you in my
arms…every…” He traces the skin above the fabric. “…single…night.”

I become so absorbed by his words, and I react how he
probably predicted. I put two firm hands on his chest and push him to a sitting
position.

His eyebrow arches. “Yes?”

“You want children?” I gape. I wasn’t sure what he really
wanted. But the fact that he’s not onboard with me—that we have
diverged
somewhere has my heart rate at
a hundred-and-five. I thought Connor was the male-version of me. But I realize
I’m not dating myself. I’m dating someone much different. Whether that’s
better
is to be seen.

“I told you, you weren’t going to like my answer. You said
you weren’t going to care. One of us lied.”

I glower. “You want children.”

“Does saying it twice make it more real?” he asks, his
fingers touching his jaw. He’s smiling, loving this way too much.

“Why would you want children? You’re…you.”

“You’re right. I am me. And
me
wants eight screaming kids, who will bounce on our bed in the
morning, who will beg you to braid their hair, who have your beautiful eyes and
your brilliant mind. I want it all, Rose. And one day, our children will have
it all too.”

“
Eight
kids?!” I
fixate on this. “I can’t even stomach having
one
kid and you want me to birth a lineage? I’m not the Queen of
England procreating to secure our empire with an heir.”

He grins into a bright laugh, his teeth almost too gorgeous
to stare at. He wrestles me back to the mattress, and he kisses my cheek. “But
don’t you want a son and daughter to succeed you,” he asks, “to raise them as
your own, to know that your legacy will still remain long, long after you’re
gone?”

“It’s still all about you,” I say, understanding completely
now. “Could you even love your children?”

His smile fades again, and he becomes impassive,
poker-faced. “I’d love them.”

I wish, more than anything, he wouldn’t
try
to lie to me. That angers me more than hearing the truth. “You
only love yourself.”

“I love you.” He’s practically mocking me.

I push him up again, and I rise to my knees. My lips find
his ear, my voice hot and cold all at once. “I
don’t
believe you.” I scoot to the edge of the bed, to climb off.
He catches my arm again.

“I meant what I said,” he tells me seriously, “before you
brought love into the equation.”

“That’s the thing, Connor.” I untangle from him. “Love
should always be in the equation when children are involved. You’re just lucky
I don’t hold that stipulation.” I step off the bed and straighten my nightgown.

“Where are you going?” he asks, worry creasing his brows. We
fight often. And we make up even more. It’s not as though my storming off is
out of the ordinary.

“To take a shower.”

“It’s five in the morning. Come back to bed.”

“No,” I say. “I want to shower before anyone comes into the
bathroom.” I head towards the door.

“Rose…” He starts but he stops himself before he gets that
far.

I feel like I’m eighteen again.

And Connor’s that nineteen-year-old boy who lent me his
college blazer.

I wait for him to speak, but like back then, he just stares
at me with those deep austere eyes, with shadows of the truth hidden behind
pools of blue.

So I say, “I don’t mind that you don’t love me the way I do
you.” I tuck my hair behind my ear. “Thank you for at least trying.”

And I leave.

But he knows I’ll be back.

In nearly ten years of knowing Connor, we always seem to
return to each other—even when we were thousands of miles apart, on two
separate planes of existence—even when it seemed like our futures had strayed.

He may not believe in fate, but I do.

And I know I’m fated to be with him.

[ 12 ]

ROSE CALLOWAY

5 months and
10 days
– Mom

I slip my cell in my purse, about to head to the Calloway
Couture offices. Savannah stays close by my side with the camera hovering. As
soon as I head towards the door, it whips open and Daisy walks in with her
white motorcycle helmet beneath her arm.

“Hey, Rose.” She sets the helmet on the leather couch and
twists her long blonde hair in a loose bun atop her head.

But she’s not alone. Brett enters with his
steadicam
, and
Ryke
shuts the
door behind them, his black helmet dangling in his hand.
Ryke
slumps down on the couch and runs his fingers through his thick tousled hair.

“Good, I caught you,” I tell Daisy, deserting my plans for a
second. “I want to give you something before I forget.” I should really get
Lily in the living room too. But she’s much harder to wrangle. “Stay here.” I
head to the hall closet and return with a shopping bag.

Before I pass her the bag, I notice the way
Ryke
and Daisy share furtive glances. She shakes her head
at him, and he grits his teeth, his jaw locking into hard-cut lines.

“Is everything okay?” I ask with a little edge. I don’t like
being out of the loop. If it involves my sisters, I want to be in the center
fucking circle.

“Perfect,” Daisy says with a bright smile. I don’t believe
her, and I have a suspicion
Ryke
wants to come clean
since he shakes his head now. She grabs the bag out of my hand to distract me.

I let the issue go, only because I can’t prod today. I need
to get work done at my office, and if I dwell on my little sister, I’ll worry
until someone spills the truth. It’s probably not that bad anyway. I’m sure she
just sped down the highway on her Ducati and almost got herself killed. In
Daisy Calloway’s adrenaline-fueled world, that situation is like the sun rising
and setting.

“Ooh,” she says. “Which one is mine, the tie-dye or the
leopard-print?”

Ryke
frowns. “What the fuck did
you get her?”

I shoot him a glare. “Not whatever you’re thinking.”

“Panties,” Daisy tells him.

“That’s exactly what I was fucking thinking.”

She smiles. “I know.” And she pulls out a plastic package
that does
not
contain panties.
“Pepper spray.” She glances at me. “I think I’ll take this one.” She holds the
tie-dye package.

“Since you and Lily have given up your bodyguards for the
show, I thought it would be a good idea to have some sort of protection.” In
order to film, Scott had a proviso that Daisy and Lily ditch their bodyguards,
who had been keeping them safe from paparazzi after we went from anonymity to
celebrity. “I also signed us up for a self-defense class.”

“Didn’t you used to take those classes all the time in
Princeton? Why would you want to go to another one?”

“Because you girls should learn.”

“I don’t know if I have the time,” Daisy says honestly. “I’m
booked for shoots a lot this week.”

“I think it’s a good idea,”
Ryke
chimes in from the couch.

My brows jump. “Really?”

“Sure,” he says, his eyes not softening like mine. “And if
Daisy doesn’t have the fucking time, then Lo, Connor and I can help out here.
We can push the furniture to the walls for space.” I would love to beat the
shit out of Loren. But what’s more appealing is trying to pin Connor to the
floor. I’d revel in that win for months.

“You want to help?” I ask
Ryke
.

“Why does everyone find that so fucking hard to believe?”

“I don’t,” I say. “I’m just wondering why you’re so
concerned all of a sudden.”

“I’m always concerned. I just don’t voice my opinion every
five seconds like you.”

“You’re a jackass,” I tell him casually.

“You’re a bitch.”

“Thank you.” I grab my phone out of my purse. “And I accept
your help by the way. Lily really needs to learn how to protect herself without
running behind
Lo’s
back.”

“Yeah,”
Ryke
says, “but you girls
need to fucking admit that you can’t protect yourself against a hoard of angry
guys with a mini-bottle of pepper spray and a kick to the nuts. It’s better if
we’re there too.”

I dial Lily’s number. “I disagree,” I say. “The tip of my
heel to your ball sac would cripple you.”

“
A hoard
of
fucking guys,”
Ryke
emphasizes. He purposefully rests
his dirty boots on my coffee table.

I choose not to break his neck. This time.

Daisy pries the plastic open and pops out the canister from
the packaging.

I press my phone to my ear, the ringing incessant.

Daisy shakes the pepper spray. “Should I test it out?” She
grins and points the nozzle at
Ryke
. “Stay away, you
pervert!”

Ryke’s
face darkens, not amused.

She drops her hand and walks over to the couch, plopping
down beside him. They have an intense whisper-conversation that Brett tries to
catch by edging close to Daisy.
Ryke
physically
plants his hand on the camera lens and drives Brett back, putting space between
them.

Brett glares. “You can’t touch the cameras,
Ryke
. How many times do we have to tell you that?”

“Back up and I won’t.”

Brett shakes his head, but he
shuffles backwards.

I concentrate on my phone call, and the dial tone sounds
after the last ring. I groan and click the “off” button. “LILY!” I shout. I
know she’s upstairs, and I want to give her a bottle of pepper spray before I
leave.

When I glance back at my little sister, I scrutinize the way
she leans into
Ryke
as she whispers something to him.
Her eyes drift over his features in a curious, impulsive manner, and my heart
quickens.

She’s going to kiss him.

And then when her lips stop moving,
Ryke
puts a hand to Daisy’s cheek. And he forces her face away from his. It’s a
gentle push that has her trying to tackle him on the couch with a laugh.
They’re verging on flirting, even when his brooding features say that he’s
pissed at her.

He struggles to hold her still as she slides beneath his arm
and snatches his helmet. She swiftly fits it over her head, and he tries to
pull it off her, his lips slowly upturning. But she wiggles out of his hold,
and in seconds, she’s suddenly straddling his lap. He flips up the visor to his
helmet and stares harshly at her, hiding his partial smile.

I worry that the cameras will pick up
any
chemistry between them. My mother will not approve of a
Ryke
Meadows and Daisy Calloway coupling. For multiple
reasons.

“Both of you, stop it.”

Ryke
snaps awake, and he shoves
her completely off his body. Her back hits the cushions.

His eyes flit from me to the staircase. “Lo!” he yells.
“Lily! Get your asses down here!” His voice is a lot louder than mine.

From upstairs, feet patter but then they stop and go quiet,
hesitating to join the land of people and real, adult things. Lo and Lily keep
to themselves, living in their own hazy, addicted world. Here, it’s a bit
scary.

“Loren fucking Hale!”
Ryke
calls.

Nothing.

Daisy rises to her knees and grips the back of the couch.
She peers up at the staircase behind me. “Lo! Lily! A comic book came in the
mail for you!” She pulls off the motorcycle helmet.

Enticing Lo with something that’s
not here
will put him in a worse mood.

But it works.

Lo and Lily stampede down the stairs. “It’s mine!” Lily
shouts at him. “I ordered the new
X-Men
comic.” She tries to shove him into the wall, and they block each other
mid-stair.

“And I ordered the last issue of
New Mutants
.” He steps forward and she jumps in front of him,
gaping.

“You’ve already read that! Mine is more important.” She
spins to race to the door.

Daisy crouches behind the couch.

Before Lily reaches the bottom stair, Lo snatches her by the
waist and throws her across his shoulder.

“Not fair!” she retorts, trying to squirm from his strong
grasp.

He carries her to the door without so much as glancing at us
in the living room. When it comes to comics, sex and booze, they have a
one-track mind.