ROSE CALLOWAY
Itโs still dark outside when my phone buzzes on the nightstand. I rub my drowsy eyes and check the clock.ย 4:30 a.m. I reach perilously for my phone in the dark and knock off a bottle of aspirin. It clatters to the floor, and I look over my shoulder to make sure Connor hasnโt woken up.
He remains unmoving on his side of the bed.
We didnโt have sex. Weโve been amicably sleeping together without doing more than I wantโwhich isnโt quite right. Iโm not exactly sure what I want when it comes to sex anymore. But I hesitate to give him that part of meโthe part that he may take in triumph and then disappear with.
Carefully, I turn on the phone and cup my hand around the screen, blocking the glow.
5 months and 12 days until the weddingย โ Mom
Thanks, Mom.ย I text back, knowing she wonโt catch the thick sarcasm.
Yesterday, when she sent me theย 5 months and 13 daysย update, Lily opened the text on my phone. She almost needed a paper bag to
hyperventilate into. She wants to be married about as much as a dog wants to be hit by a car. Planning the wedding is like shoving her into traffic, which is why I offered my services.
Planning. Organizing. Preparing. These are things I excel in. I even mediate between my motherโs requests and Lilyโs wishes. As far as our parents go, Lily has tried to have little contact with them. The guilt of hurting Fizzle is a wound she doesnโt like to reopen often. So I have
become Lily Callowayโs middlemanโalways reassuring our parents that sheโs not bingeing on cock.
Although if I said such a thing to my mother, sheโd have a coronary.
But every time I ask my sister about invitations or music, she turns pale and mumbles something likeย you choose. So Iโm no closer to planning the wedding than Lily is to wanting to get married. Which infuriates our mother. Iโm sure Iโll receive a phone call and lecture about time management later this afternoon.
โEverything okay, hun?โ
My heart jumps at Connorโs voice. I roll over to see him wide awake, head propped up by his hand.
โItโs just my mother,โ I say in a whisper. โSorry I woke you.โ Iโm about to roll back to the far end of the mattress when my phone buzzes again.
Send me the Calloway Couture sales reports from last week. Iโd like to have a financial advisor look over them. โย Mom
I let out an aggravated growl. โShe knows I donโt want her involved in my company anymore,โ I say more to myself than Connor. โWhy canโt she just back off?โ
I donโt reply to her in text again. From experience, I know itโs best not to start an argument over the phone. Especially one at four-thirty in the morning.
โSo you do want to talk,โ Connor says with the raise of his eyebrows. โNo.โ I blink and shake my head. โSorry. Itโs too earlyโฆโ I go to turn
and Connor catches my arm.
โI have time for you,โ he says. I watch him sit up, fluff his pillow and lean against the headboard. He waves me on. โLetโs hear it.โ
I rise a little, my legs tucked in front of me, and I tug the hem of my
royal-blue silk nightgown. โWhen I told her I wanted to do a reality show to
help Fizzle and Calloway Couture, the first thing she said was,ย itโd better work, and if it doesnโt, then I have two daughters that have ruined the Calloway name.โ I stare at the sheets and shake my head. โWho says that to their own daughter?โ
Connor is quiet as he patiently lets me vent. Usually, I wait until therapy to unleash my aggravation. But at the end of those sessions, Iโm always prescribed anti-anxieties, whereas Connor usually ends our conversations by calming most of my worries.
I continue as I think about her texts. โAnd even though Iโve reminded her a hundred times that I have Lilyโs wedding under control, she insists on butting in.ย You canโt have red velvet cake, Rose. Make the color scheme gold, like Fizzle, Rose. That venue is too small, Rose. Oh, but that one is too large.โ I throw up my hands after imitating her. โI canโt do anything right.โ
โHave you tried ignoring her?โ Connor asks.
He knows I havenโt. I crumble at my motherโs persistence. And even if she becomes overbearing and a little too much to handle, there is a part of
me that loves that she cares. That sheโd rather spend her time thinking about her daughters than worrying about mindless matters.
โI love her even if I hate her,โ I say, not entirely responding to his question.
โA paradox,โ Connor muses. โI like those. They make life interesting.โ
My eyes flit to his. We donโt have these heart-to-hearts often. Itโs much more fun to debate over Freudโs misogynistic theories. But weโve spoken about Connorโs relationship with his own mother a couple times. Sheโs not cold or maternal. She justย is. At least thatโs how heโs always described
Katarina Cobalt. As if sheโs nothing more than his boss.
Iโd love to meet her, but Connor has lied to me about her being busy for over a year. He doesnโt want me to see her for whatever asinine reason, and
even if he wonโt tell me why, I respect his opinion. So when she called me a couple days ago, I brushed her off with the same excuse Connor has been using.ย Iโmย too busy for coffee and definitely too busy for brunch. It was rude, but if she listens to gossip and socialite mutterings, sheโd know Iโm a bit of a bitch.
โMothers are all slightly insane,โ 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. โJ.D. Salinger.โ
โReally? Most mothers are instinctive philosophers,โ I shoot back.
He grins again. โHarriet Beecher Stowe. And I couldnโt agree more.โ โI wasnโt trying to stump you, so donโt gloat.โ I want to hear the truth,
not someone elseโs words. โTell me something real.โ
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. Thereโs challenge in his eyes. To stay still. To not be afraid of him.
I inhale, fire brewing inside of me. I donโt shift my nightgown, and my eyes narrow, finding my combative side. โYou didnโt answer me.โ
His eyes dance over my features. โYouโre not going to like what I have to say.โ
โI donโt care. Just tell me anything.โ โAs long as itโs real?โ
โYes.โ
He smiles. โWhere do I even start?โ His hand skims the bareness of my knee, up towards my thigh. โBesides what Iโd love to do to you right now and tomorrow and for the rest of my life, I hope that someday, Iโll watch you grow big and roundโฆโ He kisses my belly, and his mouth trails a line
to my hipbone, dangerously close to my panties. โโฆand Iโll hold you in my armsโฆeveryโฆโ He traces the skin above the fabric. โโฆsingleโฆnight.โ
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. โYes?โ
โYou want children?โ I gape. I wasnโt sure what he really wanted. But the fact that heโs not onboard with meโthat we haveย divergedย somewhere has my heart rate at a hundred-and-five. I thought Connor was the male- version of me. But I realize Iโm not dating myself. Iโm dating someone much different. Whether thatโsย betterย is to be seen.
โI told you, you werenโt going to like my answer. You said you werenโt going to care. One of us lied.โ
I glower. โYou want children.โ
โDoes saying it twice make it more real?โ he asks, his fingers touching his jaw. Heโs smiling, loving this way too much.
โWhy would you want children? Youโreโฆyou.โ
โYouโre right. I am me. Andย meย 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.โ
โEightย kids?!โ I fixate on this. โI canโt even stomach havingย oneย kid and you want me to birth a lineage? Iโm not the Queen of England procreating to secure our empire with an heir.โ
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. โBut donโt you want a son and daughter to succeed you,โ he asks, โto raise them as your
own, to know that your legacy will still remain long, long after youโre gone?โ
โItโs still all about you,โ I say, understanding completely now. โCould you even love your children?โ
His smile fades again, and he becomes impassive, poker-faced. โIโd love them.โ
I wish, more than anything, he wouldnโtย tryย to lie to me. That angers me more than hearing the truth. โYou only love yourself.โ
โI love you.โ Heโs 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. โIย donโtย believe you.โ I scoot to the edge of the bed, to climb off. He catches my arm again.
โI meant what I said,โ he tells me seriously, โbefore you brought love into the equation.โ
โThatโs the thing, Connor.โ I untangle from him. โLove should always be in the equation when children are involved. Youโre just lucky I donโt hold that stipulation.โ I step off the bed and straighten my nightgown.
โWhere are you going?โ he asks, worry creasing his brows. We fight often. And we make up even more. Itโs not as though my storming off is out of the ordinary.
โTo take a shower.โ
โItโs five in the morning. Come back to bed.โ
โNo,โ I say. โI want to shower before anyone comes into the bathroom.โ I head towards the door.
โRoseโฆโ He starts but he stops himself before he gets that far. I feel like Iโm eighteen again.
And Connorโs 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, โI donโt mind that you donโt love me the way I do you.โ I tuck my hair behind my ear. โThank you for at least trying.โ
And I leave.
But he knows Iโll be back.
In nearly ten years of knowing Connor, we always seem to return to each otherโeven when we were thousands of miles apart, on two separate planes of existenceโeven when it seemed like our futures had strayed.
He may not believe in fate, but I do. And I know Iโm fated to be with him.