ROSE CALLOWAY
“Did you see what happened at the airport?” Lily asks me with a big, silly grin. “Not one person even blinked in my direction. And all I had to do was wear sunglasses.” She lets out an appreciative sigh before collapsing on the bed. “I think I love France.”
I can’t help but smile. Seeing my sister happy is a special event.
Our trip to the Alps has been scheduled for a while since production wanted to film in a vacation setting. But it couldn’t have arrived at a better time. We all needed a break from the rabid paparazzi. The cabin has been rented out and stocked with wood, the climate still biting and snowy at the end of March.
3 months – Mom
3 months and Lily will be married. 3 months and I need to finish sewing the gown. After five sketches, I think I designed the perfect one, and I brought some fabrics here to start. Connor says I should just hand it over to a seamstress, but I want it to be perfect. If this is the only thing I get right for Lily—then the whole wedding is a success in my eyes. Maybe not for my mother, but for me—definitely.
Everyone unloads groceries while Lily and I scope out the beds to assign rooms. I hate to ruin her suddenly cheerful mood with wedding talk, but she’s created the perfect opportunity.
“So since you like France, you won’t mind that your wedding is in Paris.”
Lily lifts her body up on her elbows. “Does that mean that the reporters won’t film it?” The wedding is supposed to be national news, broadcasted on multiple cable networks sponsored by Global Broadcasting Association, as if Lily and Loren are royalty. GBA bought the rights to film us, against other big names like ABC, NBC, and CBS.
“I think they’ll fly out for it.” “Oh…”
The silence stretches longer than it should, the tension heightening. “I can change it if you’d like. You just haven’t given me any ideas or hints as to what you want.”
“I want to still be engaged in three months.” “Lily—”
She holds up her hands. “I know,” she exclaims with a sigh. “That’s not a choice.” She thinks for a second. “I guess Paris will be fun.” She grins. “Can we have crepes at the wedding?”
“Already ordered.”
She jumps off the bed and throws her thin arms around my waist. “Thank you, Rose…” She pauses. “I’m sorry I’m making this hard for you to plan.”
“It’s okay. I like the challenge,” I lie. That’s Connor’s thing. Challenges.
Games. I’d prefer my path to be an easy one.
* * *
Ryke lets out an exhausted huff as he barges through the front door, supporting my fifty pound suitcase in his arms. “What the fuck did you bring, Rose?”
“Sweaters and jackets take up more room than bathing suits,” I defend from the kitchen. Lily, Daisy, and I start stocking the wooden cupboards,
and we make soup for dinner. Ben, Brett, and Savannah are still here, but
they’re silently buzzing around, trying to unload their camera equipment as quickly as possible.
Savannah is the fastest, and I refrain from cheering her on, but she
deserves the praise. Those steadicam contraptions are heavy. She’s already on her feet, heading to us.
Loren traipses in behind Ryke with Lily’s duffel slung over his shoulder, trekking in snow. He watches his brother struggle to keep my suitcase in his arms. Loren looks unsurprised by my over-packing, considering he’s attended many family trips with us.
“It has wheels, you know,” Loren tells him like he’s a moron. “It’s fucking snowing,” Ryke growls.
Loren turns to me. “Don’t you already own a slav—I mean a boyfriend.” He flashes a sardonic grin.
In perfect timing, Connor walks through the doorway easily carrying my other two duffel bags without an issue. Yes, I have a problem over-packing. I need choices, and I would have gladly brought my own luggage inside but we divided up duties.
“We were just talking about you,” Loren tells Connor.
“I heard,” he says. “In terms of ownership, we’re both on equal footing…unless you’re talking about in bed.”
“I can see how she’d be bossy.”
Connor grins and slides past Loren and Ryke to drop off my bags.
Loren’s brows bunch together in confusion while my neck heats.
Lily tugs my arms. “You’ve done things, haven’t you?” she asks in a whisper-hiss. “And you haven’t told me?”
Savannah edges close with her camera, her red braids against a black chunky sweater with mini pink skulls. Her goth look is actually quite cute,
and she’s more apt to crack a smile than porky Brett, who only looks happy when he catches Lily doing something sexual.
He’s still my least favorite of the three-person crew. “Maybe,” I answer Lily evasively.
At the stove, Daisy stirs the soup with a large ladle, smiling brightly until she looks up and her eyes lock on someone.
I follow her gaze and find her “boyfriend” strolling into the cabin as he texts on his phone. Tall, dark-haired, Italian, a quarter Spanish. I had a five- minute conversation with him on the plane, and it was clear Daisy didn’t
hide Julian from us because he’s dumb.
He’s six years older than her.
To say that most of us were displeased would be an understatement.
None of us have done the yelling bit yet. Mostly because the cameras have been heavily up in our faces during the trip, waiting for us to explode on Julian.
That’s why Scott withheld airing footage with him. They wanted that moment. And so far, no one has given it to him. Which put Scott in quite the pissy fucking mood. I am abnormally chipper because of it. I could twirl around in a dress and hold out my hand, waiting for a bird to come land on my finger. Imagine the Wicked Witch doing that dance number, and that’s pretty much me right now.
I turn to Lily. “Apparently we all keep secrets.”
“Hey,” Daisy says, knowing I was referring to her. She waves her hand at me. “I knew you’d disapprove. If production hadn’t forced me to bring him along, he’d be back in Philly.”
“I only disapprove because it’s illegal if you two hook up,” I remind her. “One year. That’s all you have to wait.”
“Back to the point,” Lily insists. “Connor said unless you’re talking about in bed. That implies you did things.”
Months ago, Lily would have crawled underneath a table to avoid discussing sex. Now she prods for details. It’s enough to break my silence. “We did some things,” I tell her in a whisper. But I know Savannah catches every word.
“Things? What things?” She grins from ear-to-ear, excited for me. I wonder if she remembers her first time, or if it was something hazy like her other sexual experiences.
“Wait, I want to hear,” Daisy tells us. She steps away from the stove and closes our little circle.
“We haven’t had sex yet, so don’t get too excited.”
“Things can be better than sex sometimes,” Lily says, poking my arm with her bony finger.
Daisy stays quiet, her gaze drifting. “Daisy disagrees with you, Lily,” I say.
“What? No I…okay, I kind of do.” She grimaces a little as she recalls a few memories, waving her hands theatrically with each word. “They’re pretty much equal for me. Fingering, oral, sex—it all sits somewhere in the meh territory. I think I’m just not programmed to like sex. I’m like the anti- sex goddess. The opposite of Lily, you know?”
Lily turns bright red. “Ugh…” She places her hands to her hot face. “My body betrays me all the freakin’ time! I don’t know why those words embarrass me.”
“Because you’re a sex addict,” I remind her. “Stupid people make you feel like you’re a whore if you say them.” And then I turn on Daisy. “And that’s ridiculous.”
Daisy is all smiles but I see her fear—that she really isn’t ever going to have a proper fucking orgasm.
“You can orgasm,” I tell her. “You just have to find the right person.” I thought she had reached that peak with a guy before, but she explained to Lily and me what happened, and it did not sound like an orgasm. It sounded more like she settled with what was given, which was nothing much at all.
“And what if there is no right person for me?” she asks seriously. And then she plays it cool, shrugging. “I mean, I have no problem being a casual dater, a single lady for life. You were going to do that before you met, Connor, weren’t you?”
“Yes, but I never had a problem pleasing myself.”
Daisy has said on numerous occasions that she can’t orgasm from masturbation, no matter how hard she tries. The only thing I can think of is that she’s doing it wrong. I even found a book that literally shows her how to touch herself—and she still said nothing happened.
Lily’s eyes widen at me like you’re making her feel bad.
Oops. Tact. I lose it sometimes. “You’ll find someone,” I tell her, squeezing her shoulder encouragingly. But I think I squeeze a little too hard because she winces. I let go. “…Just keep dating. And when you find a loser, ditch him quickly. Please.”
Daisy nods. “So how far did you go with Connor?” “I thought you were going to forget about asking.” “No way,” Daisy and Lily say in unison.
“We did things…” I remember him choking me for the first time as I hit an excruciatingly blissful peak, and then the many times after where he
made me come with his fingers. Almost every night we play around, but we haven’t had sex yet. And we haven’t done anything kinkier than tying my wrists to the bedposts.
“We want details,” Lily says with wide eyes. “Like…what things?”
I feel the hot gaze of the camera. I want to keep some things private from them and many things private from the nation. “Good things,” I say evasively. I gesture my head a little at the camera, and they both catch on, starting to drop the conversation. I end it with, “He’s better than anything I imagined.” Suck on that, Scott.
Daisy beams, a longing in her eyes for something similar to what Lily and I have. I truly hope she finds love someday and way more than meh sex.
Her gaze drifts. “Look who showed up.”
Scott stands in the doorway, typing on his phone. He stopped in Los Angeles for a production meeting with GBA before he flew to France. He
tucks his cell in his pocket, and his eyes find mine. The smarmy smile only heats my chest. He’s no longer as pissy as he was at the airport. I seriously consider pouring the vat of bubbling hot soup over his head.
But I don’t.
Because then I’d go to jail for assaulting him. And I’d probably be called a man-hater more than I already am, which I don’t think I warrant the title. And if I do…I need to work on that.
Jail and my pride are really the only two things stopping me. I can
handle him going after me, but when he picks on my sisters with mean and offensive comments, like he’s been doing this past month, murder sounds so worthwhile.
This week is supposed to be a break from the chaos, but I have a feeling it’s all just beginning.
