Kiss the Sky (47 page)

“Because
that’s what you and I do. We envision our futures and we make it happen.”

She
squeezes my knee. “Now you make us seem utterly shallow and vain.”

“We
are,” I say. “But in the best way.” I grin and wait for her to tell me. I want
to hear it.

“I
see you and me together, and we’re eating Thanksgiving at our house. Loren and
Lily come over. They don’t have kids, but they’re happy with that. And Daisy
will arrive on her motorcycle with some drifter boyfriend we all hate.
Ryke
won’t be there. He’ll be…climbing some mountain in
another country, backpacking or something insane. And you and I will be
drinking wine by the fire after everyone goes to bed.”

No
children.

Anywhere.
Not even for her sisters.

That’s
how scared she is. “What frightens you about having kids?” I ask her, skimming
her palm with my fingers, tracing the lines while she comes to an answer.

She
goes rigid, and I sit all the way up and rub her legs that peek beneath the
sheet. “Failure,” she says with a tight voice. “What if they hate me? What if I
don’t show them the love they deserve? What if I turn out like my mother and suffocate
each one?” She pauses. “I don’t want to ruin a human being, Richard.”

I
stroke her hair, pinning a strand behind her ear. “You won’t, Rose. I’ll be
here to help you, and I have no doubt that you’ll love each of our children as
much as the next one.”

I
wait for her to refute. To shoot me a dark glare and snap about me not knowing
anything about kids since I have none. But I know her, and I know she’d be a
great mother if she allowed herself the chance to be one. And to believe
this—all anyone needs is a glimpse into how she treats her sisters. With
compassion, dedication and soul-bearing love. She gives all of herself to the
people she cares for.

“In
our
late
thirties, if we’re ready, if
you
help
me, I can imagine a little
girl or two…” She trails off as she stares at my face. “What?”

My
mouth has fallen, and then my surprise transforms into the purest fucking joy.
I smile so bright; I can’t do anything but kiss her on the cheek, on the lips.
I tackle her on the bed and pin her to the mattress.

“Richard,”
she says with a smile. “Stop for a second.”

I
grin. “You want children?” She said yes.

“When
I’m
thirty-five
or older,” she
retorts.

She
wants children.

I
kiss her deeply.

“You
have to
help
me,” she says between
kisses.

Help.
She’s asking for help. A girl who struggled to take my college blazer to hide a
stain is willingly opening her arms to me—to us. “All I’ve ever wanted to do
was be on your team, Rose.” I laugh as I remember. “You, Miss Highest Honors,
were the one who chose to be my rival by attending Princeton.”

She
tilts her head. “I like competing against you.” She sits up on her elbows, her
lips so close to mine as she says, “But I like being your teammate more.”

“Me
too, darling.”

Me too.

[ 46 ]

ROSE CALLOWAY

7 days
–
Mom

I
try not to let the countdown alter my mood anymore. I’m more upset that Poppy,
my oldest sister, decided not to come to Lily’s bachelorette party. Since we’re
spending the weekend in Vegas with the cameras—and
Scott,
tall villainous Scott—she chose to stay back in Philly. At
least she wants to be a part of the wedding.

Lily
dances beside me, wearing a pink sparkly
Bachelorette
sash and tiara. Her happiness makes Scott’s looming presence worth it.
We’re in a huge club with multi-colored strobe lights and half-naked girls
gyrating in cages.

I
grab Lily’s hands, all of us a little buzzed. Usually Lily doesn’t drink, but
when I ordered shots with Daisy, she said she wanted to be a part of it.

“You’re
getting married!” I shout over the music, swinging her hands.

She
beams from ear-to-ear. “I’m getting married!”

I
don’t really understand her sudden change of heart. But why question it? I’ll
just ruin
this
, and I’d rather enjoy
tonight and the next seven days.
 

Daisy
twists her sweaty hair into a bun on top of her head. Savannah and Brett try to
film us without being shoved by other dancers.

“Hey,
look who it is?” I hear a guy shout.

Great.

“Go
back to Philly, sluts!” The guys don’t near us, but the longer they yell, the
more likely they will find the courage (or stupidity) to do so.

“Get
out of Vegas!”

“Should
we take a bar break?” Daisy asks. “Beer time?”

Lily
tries to ignore the heckling too. She nods quickly. “Beer time”

“You
girls want beer?” I say. We have the option of fruity cocktails, dirty
martinis, tequila shots, and they’re going to choose
beer.
Really?

“You’ve
never
had beer before,” Lily refutes.
“This is the day for us to try new things together. Come on.”

She
tugs my hand.

“But
you don’t even like beer,” I retort. Beer is not my alcohol of choice. Although,
I’ve never tasted it. It kind of looks like piss in a glass, which makes
complete sense why frat guys love it so much.

“I
do like it,” Lily tells me. “I just don’t drink it often.”

“I
love beer,” Daisy says with a nod.

“You
love everything,” Lily and I say in unison.

She
smiles and shrugs. And she would probably try to eat everything if she didn’t
have to worry about her weight.

“Go
back to—”

“We
heard you!” I shout at the air, not sure where the voice is coming from. It
must be close considering I hear him over the music.

We
reach the long black granite bar with blue lights underneath, and we pick three
stools beside each other. Lily is seated between us, and a guy with a scruffy
jaw and tattoos sits on my left. From here, we can see our guys over in the VIP
roped area, a balcony above us. They sit on leather couches and talk.

Scott
doesn’t join them. He leans his forearms on the balcony railing, his eyes
pinned to me.
The whole time.

It’s
aggravating, but I feel worse for Loren who has to put up with Scott during his
bachelor party. And I
rarely
pity
Loren in settings like this.

I
glance at Lily who pockets her phone as soon as my eyes hit her.

“What
are you doing?” I ask.

“Texting
Lo. Let’s order.”

If
this bartender would respond to my waving hand, that task would be much easier.
But she’s having a nice time flirting with the male customers who’ll tip her
more. I
would have
tipped her well.
Now I’m reconsidering. I snap my fingers.

Lily
grabs my hands, flushing in embarrassment. “She’s not a dog.”

Well
she’s not a good bartender either. But I tone it down because Lily looks as red
as the bartender’s formfitting dress.

I
guess we’ll have to wait.

Patience—it’s
something I don’t have.

[ 47 ]

CONNOR COBALT

Scott keeps
looking at Rose. It’s creepy. Can you do something?
– Lily

I
pocket my phone. I’ve tried to stand up and distract Scott from Rose, but every
time I do, Lo pulls me back down and
Ryke
tells me
not to give him the time of “fucking” day. But it’s about Rose, and I don’t want
her to be uncomfortable because of him.

“Go
back to Philly, assholes!” Someone screams from one leather couch over.

“I’m
getting the sense we’re not wanted here,” Lo says dryly. He tries not to
provoke the hecklers, but I can see the irritation growing as he flashes a
bitter smile.

I
glance from the text to Scott. “Give me a minute,” I tell the guys. “I need to
talk to him. Seriously.” I have to see what he’s plotting.

“No,
we thought you were
joking
the last
four times,” Lo says.

But
I stand up from the leather couch anyway, expecting Lo to tug me back, but he
just nods to me and says, “Tell him I hate him.”

“Any
other messages?” I look at
Ryke
.

“Tell
him to fuck himself.”

I
nod. “Didn’t expect anything eloquent.”

He
flips me off, and I leave both of them to go to Scott. I rest my arm on the
railing like him, not saying a word as I stand by his side. I just watch what
he does.

Rose.

She
argues with the a brunette bartender in a red dress, and even from afar, I
notice the way she cranes forward with heat in her eyes, obviously on the
offensive about something.

“So
here you are,” I say, feeling the gleam of Ben’s camera lens behind me. “I have
the girl, and you’re left with what?” I finally turn to look at him.

“I
never wanted the girl,” he says.

I
try not to seem shocked. I thought this was a pissing contest from the start.
“You wanted fame,” I state, throwing it out there for him to catch.

“No.”
He stands straighter. As do I. And we face each other. “If I wanted fame, do
you really think I’d be the producer of a reality show? You think someone’s
going to award me a fucking Emmy for filming six rich college students?”

I
don’t make a point to announce that I already graduated college. He knows this.
“So you just want money from the show,” I say. “
Princesses of Philly
is a hit. You have your payoff. There’s no
reason to keep looking at Rose. The charade is
over
, Scott. You’re not her ex. You’ve never been.” But I stop
myself. The more I say these things, the more his lips curve in a smug grin. I
inhale in detest, rubbing my mouth as a bad taste rises.

“There’s
no season two, is there?” he asks.

“No.”

“I
figured as much when she signed the contract. I thought there’s no way she’d
want to do this for longer than six months.” He shakes his head at me. “It’s
not over, Connor.”

He
wants more money.

What
the fuck is he going to do?

Before
I have a chance to continue, my phone repeatedly buzzes in my pocket. I answer
it, not checking the caller.

“You
have to get down here, right
now!
”
Lily yells so I can hear over the loud music.

“What’s
going on?” I ask while I look for them at the bar. Rose is no longer arguing
with the bartender. The thirty-something guy next to her is
in
her fucking face. And she’s in his as
they scream.

I
can hear her voice in the background of Lily’s receiver.

“Just
order the fucking beer!” he yells. “Who cares what size it is?!”

“For
you to understand me, you’d have to open your tiny, infantile brain,” she
sneers, “and try to step onto my plane of existence!”

“Girl
size or guy size, it’s not that fucking hard of a concept! Small or large!”

“FUCK
YOU!” she shouts, not even that drunk.

I
race down the balcony stairs at that last curse word. And I feel
Ryke
and Loren behind me, the distress must be clear in my
muscles that constrict from my neck to arms.

When
I reach the first floor, still on the phone with Lily, I sprint ahead, the
crowds parting as soon as they see me. The bar is in sight. Maybe fifty feet
away.

And
then he punches her.

In
the face.
 

Everything
moves quickly.

The
momentum knocks Rose off the bar stool. Lily crouches down to help her, and
Daisy shoves the guy, screaming and trying to hit him back.

My
heart is in my throat. The sensible, reasonable part of me that I have
always
listened to says to go to Rose, to
make sure she’s okay. But the livid, boiling side that Rose is familiar with
has a mind of its own. I’m already making my way to him, my hand clenched
around my phone, my knuckles white with hatred. Who the
fuck
punches a woman? I’ve met some assholes—some really fucked up
people that would sell their child if it meant living an A-class lifestyle. But
this shit is something new and foreign and disgusting.

I
almost reach the guy.

But
as soon as he says, “Oh, you’re that prick on the show. Come to restrain your
fucking crazy girlfriend? She needs her mouth taped shut—”

I
lay one fist into his stomach before the bouncers separate us. My grip was
strong enough to break the screen on my phone. These stupid, raging emotions
collect as I realize Rose is still hurt. On the ground.

I
find her within a second. Lily has her arms above Rose so no one enters her
space. And Lo is right beside Rose’s head, holding a napkin filled with ice to
her cheek that he must have grabbed from the bar.