Rose finishes straightening my cards together and gives me a look. “Why are you all flushed?” I’m flushed in embarrassment, not arousal, just to be clear. Her eyes flit to the tablet. “Lily, do you have internet on there?”
“Just a little bit,” I blurt out.
“Okay”—she snatches the tablet from me—“you can’t have a little bit of internet.” She logs into my settings.
“It’s for work purposes, and you know, studying.” I tap my highlighter to my book for further emphasis.
“Stick to your notecards.”
She just doesn’t trust me as much since the doctor’s office. I think she’s waiting for me to slip back into my old, destructive p**n -filled routine. Which is understandable. But she’s pregnant too and…
My eyes grow big as my thoughts take a dangerous turn. “Rose,” I whisper, leaning close, “are you going to be able to have sex now that you’re pregnant?” I frown, thinking harder. Oh my God. “Can I have sex when I’m really, really pregnant? Oh my God. What about right afterwards?” I lunge for my tablet. I need answers. Answers that the worldwide web can provide.
“Lily,” Rose snaps, raising the tablet over my head. Damn her heels. “Be calm.”
“Aren’t you freaking out? Just a little. Even internally?”
“Internally I’m rolling my eyes at you,” she deadpans.
Oh. “These are valid questions.” I point at her. “You should be more worried. I mean, you and Connor do it like…” I trail off.
“Like what?” Her eyes pierce me through the skull.
“Like…rough, and you’re into bondage.”
“So?” she says.
“How is it?” I suddenly ask.
The break room door breezes open, drawing our attention to a makeup-less girl with straight black hair, big rimmed glasses and rosy cheeks. She flashes the Vulcan salute, a clipboard tucked underneath her other arm. “Live long and prosper.” She smiles and then says another greeting in Korean.
Did I mention that I am in love with our new store manager? Ryke can’t have her.
Rose taps her nails on the counter, watching Maya Ahn slip behind it. All our conversations about babies and sex have disappeared with the threat of eavesdropping. Worst case scenario: The news is leaked to the press before we tell Connor and Lo. That is a nightmare of hellish proportions.
The silence drags and Maya spins around from the coffeemaker. “Did I interrupt something?” She pushes her glasses up with a finger.
“No,” I say quickly. “We were just talking about…breast implants.” Ohmygod. I clear my throat. “Mine are kinda small…” I actually don’t have a problem with my boobs, but it was the first thing that jumped from my lips.
Rose stares at me like I just purchased my one-way ticket on the crazy train. “And I’ve been telling Lily that her boobs are fine how they are.”
Maya doesn’t look fazed by the conversation. “As long as you’re happy with yourself, it doesn’t really matter how you look, right?” She starts the coffee pot and it gurgles in response.
“True,” I say with a nod. “I think I’m going to stick with these.”
“Okay.” Rose grabs her purse off the counter and starts towards the door. “I need to get to Calloway Couture to prep for opening. Come along, Lily. You can study in my break room.”
“I have a break room,” I motion to the backdoor.
“Yes, but my couches are better.” Her eyes turn fierce. Okay. Jeez.
“See ya!” Maya calls out as we leave through the front door. The wind hits me and I release a large breath. Close call.
“At least we’ll know how trustworthy she is,” Rose says as we walk across the street. The people standing in line at Superheroes & Scones whip out their smart phones to snap pictures of us. I’m a little surprised no cameramen pop up out of the thin air.
“Why is that?” I ask. Rose unlocks her store door and I shut it behind me.
“Because if tomorrow’s headline reads Lily Calloway is getting a boob job then you can fire her.” She pauses in thought. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea. Plant a lie for your staff and see if they feed it to the press. Weed out the betrayers.” She grins like she found her new tactic for her own store.
My phone buzzes before I can compliment her evil strategy.
Miss you. – Lo
I take a deep breath and try not to count the days until I see him again.
53
2 years : 01 month
September
LOREN HALE
Loren, where did your father touch you? I can still the feel the heat of the flashes as we walked down the Paris city street, the paparazzi bombarding us, a whole ocean away from where we live. Walking. Just walking. Became a nightmare.
Why hasn’t your brother made a statement to the press? Does Ryke know the truth, Loren?
I sit on a barstool in a pub, gripping a glass with dark carbonated liquid. I try to focus on the Rugby World Cup playing on every television screen, but I can’t distance myself from all the questions today. No matter how hard I try.
Connor says something to me, a plate of fries between us, but I lose track of his words.
“Whatever,” I mutter, my voice biting and cold. I sip my drink, the bitter taste of liquor sliding down. Beginning to numb my head. But not fast enough.
Connor has to know I ordered a Fizz and whiskey when he went outside to call Rose. He’s not an idiot, and while his demeanor never changed, he stepped out again. I’m guessing to call my brother.
Lo, what about Lily?!
I grit my teeth. My eyes sear like someone rubbed salt in them. I glare at the rows and rows of bottles behind the bartender. I don’t want to think about this.
Did your father ever touch, Lily?
I chug the rest of my drink. I flag down the bartender and then point to my glass. She nods, understanding. Has your girlfriend been molested?
Where did your father touch her?
Stop.
Thinking.
Today.
It was the first day that I’ve ever heard Lily’s name thrown around with this mess. I just want everyone to see the truth. To realize how much damage they’re doing to my family by speculating. Instead, every lie keeps growing into a bigger one. I don’t see how it’ll ever end.
Connor looks between me and the television, eating a fry.
“Did you hear,” I finally say, “that Sara Hale is going to be interviewed on television?” Some sort of tell-all special. “She’s going to bury my dad.” And I’ll be dragged down with him.
The bartender slides the newly-filled glass towards me. She avoids eye contact, fear in her brows. She’s afraid of me. I must wear the worst f**king glare—like I’m sitting here hoping that the world burns with me in it.
I partly do. And then I take another sip, a buzz barely even present.
“Sara has nothing to gain from that,” Connor says easily, as if the matter is settled.
“Not everyone is like you,” I retort spitefully, clutching the cold glass. “Everything Ryke’s mom has ever done is because she hates Jonathan.”
“I never said that she wouldn’t lie on camera. I just meant that it’ll solve nothing for her if she does. So revel in that fact. I am.”
“You go ahead and revel in that, Connor.” An acidic taste sears my throat. “You’ll be the only one.”