Daisy hops off the bar stool without hesitation. “You’re still ignoring him?” I let my sisters in on my business earlier today.
“Until ten a.m. tomorrow,” I say.
“This is ridiculous,” Loren pipes in, watching my little sister hand off Jane’s food to my husband. When I glance at him again, his deep blue eyes are pinned on me, his grin escalating every time we make contact. His expression says, you can’t look away, can you, Rose?
I can.
Watch me. I focus on Loren and his sharp jawline and half-grimace that practically says, ew, why the hell are you staring at me?
“There have to be repercussions for losing,” I tell my brother-in-law. “So no, it’s not ridiculous, Loren. It’s the price of failure.”
Connor says, “It’s hardly a failure when there were distractions.”
I snort. “Loren, tell Richard that one wrong question still means he lost, and that he’s the one who says ‘distraction’ is a word that ‘losers’ use to make themselves feel better.” I have to keep my back to Connor, even if I ache to turn around and glare in his direction.
Loren opens his mouth, but Connor speaks before he can even reiterate.
“My wife being injured unquestionably ranks above a competitor sneezing during a quiz bowl tournament.”
I can’t argue this. Someone’s seasonal allergies did fuck with my concentration during academic bowls in college, and he’ll never let me live it down.
I growl. “Loren, tell Connor that I know his overinflated ego can’t handle the word failure but by its definition, it still applies.”
“For Christ’s sake,” Lo interjects. “Both of you shut up.”
I only comply because he lets out a heavy breath, and I remember that he called this meeting and gathered everyone together.
Lily secures Moffy in his highchair next to Jane, and from her expression alone, I can’t discern whether she already knows about the topic at hand.
Lo rests his elbows on the counter, hunching forward. “The babies are almost going to be a year old, and we still haven’t chosen godparents.”
The air thins.
Godparents. I crave to look at Connor and see if his complacency cracks for a brief second.
“You want to do this now?” Ryke questions. I missed the part where Daisy jumped on the counter next to him, sitting by the microwave. She swings her legs and peels an orange while his arm subtly drapes across her shoulders.
“There’s no better time,” Lo says. “We all keep dodging the subject.”
Lily nods. “We need to make a decision soon.” So she did know what he was up to.
Lo adds, “The outside is insane. I never thought anyone could hurt you of all people.” He motions to me, his cheekbones like razors as he glances at my bandaged wound again.
My temple throbs. “If it happens again, someone will lose their fingers and toes, I assure you.”
“It’s not happening again,” Connor proclaims, his stern voice prickling my neck. Don’t turn around, Rose. I stand rigid in place.
Lo focuses on Connor. “Whether it’s you two or Lily and me, we need to think about the worst happening. I can’t let Samantha or my father have custody of Moffy.”
Silence sweeps the kitchen, and tension thickens the longer no one speaks. We’ve all sheltered our opinions about godparents, mostly since there will be hurt feelings in the process. None of us are entirely religious, but we view this decision solely as a guardianship. The godparents will be responsible for our children should something happen to us.
Coconut chows down on kibble, her munching filling the deadened air. Jane slurps her yogurt, and Moffy whacks his hands on his tray table.
“Who’s fucking dying?” Ryke asks, hardly easing the strain.
“Unexpected, shitty things happen,” Loren retorts. “I think we can all agree on that.” His eyes flicker to Daisy’s face, the long scar down her cheek. And then to mine.
Lily raises her hand. “I have something to add.” She clears her throat. “I know that no one wants to say anything in fear of rejecting someone else. But can we all take our emotions out of it and make a decision right here. Please.” Her “please” is heartbreakingly desperate, reminding me that I need to work on mine.
“Says one of the most emotional people in the fucking room,” Ryke mutters under his breath.
I shoot him a scathing look.
“Hey,” Lo snaps.
“Yeah, hey.” Lily’s face scrunches, attempting a glare.
Ryke cringes with remorse and runs a frustrated hand through his thick hair. “I’m emotional too, Lil. I didn’t mean it like it sounded. Sorry.”
Lily accepts the apology with a smile.
Daisy shares her orange with Ryke, splitting the slices in half. “Aren’t Connor and Rose having a million kids?” she asks.
I accidentally glance at Connor again, his features unreadable as he studies me. We haven’t talked about children since our test backfired, but by the parameters of our rules, I think we’re both in agreement that Jane is all we can have.
Don’t think about it, Rose.
I don’t like thinking about this new future, ever.
“Just what the world needs, a Coballoway army,” Loren says, his sarcasm unusually absent.
“We may only have Jane.” I pull back my shoulders to try and accept this outcome, even when it feels off-kilter, like life is unbalanced.
Lo frowns deeply. “What? Since when?”
Lily looks morose. “Is this about what happened with the paparazzi?”
Only Ryke knows about our test, but the reason behind everything remains the same: how can we protect our children? They have no choice whether or not to be in magazines or stalked and traumatized by cameras.
“Yes,” Connor answers. “It’s about the media.”
“If you want more kids,” Lo says, “you should have more kids and not let some shitty fucking journalists dictate what you do.” He nods to Ryke. “Same goes for you, bro. I better be seeing a mini-you one day because I know for a goddamn fact you want a kid.”
Daisy smiles as she bites into an orange slice.
Ryke rolls his eyes. He’s been in our camp since the beginning, afraid of bringing a kid in this environment.
Daisy eases the tension with a brighter smile. “Let’s just assume that Rose and Connor may have more kids. How many were you planning?”
“Eight,” I send the number into the void. When Connor first proposed the amount, I thought he was insane, but the longer we’ve bantered back and forth about eight babies this and eight babies that—it’s become less of a crazed idea, spawned from a verbal battle and egotistical notions. Now it’s become an endearing plan. A family of ten. It sounds strong, he told me.
It does.
But I suppose it’s traveled back to being a fantastical idea once more.
Lily picks at her nails. “Eight?” She seems worried by the number, unsure if she can handle that many.
I find my knife and point it between my two sisters. “Whoever wants to be Jane’s godmother has to make a blood pact with me.”
They both exchange a look like they’re considering volunteering out of the position.
I rest a hand on my hip. “Fine, the blood pact is optional. The godmother part is still mandatory.”
“Ryke and Daisy should do it.” It’s not Lily who voices that opinion.