And then she kisses me. Her hand clenching my hair as her lips press against mine. I smile and urge her lips open for a second, our tongues meeting in an embrace that clutches my mind and refuses to let go.
But she breaks first, holding my cheek in a delicate hand. “Thank you,” she says. “You’re right—” She puts her fingers to my lips. “Don’t you dare gloat.”
I try not to grin too much.
Her lips rise. “I’m going to try to find a way to be happy with what I have. I don’t want to keep thinking it’s never enough. And I’m not ready to give it all up either.”
I grab her hand, dropping it from my mouth. “That’s a smart decision.” I brush the bottom of her reddened lip. “And in ten years, when your sisters and their husbands have children and families of their own, what do you picture for yourself?”
“I can’t look that far,” she refutes.
“Lies,” I scoff with the click of my tongue. “You’ve mapped out your life already.”
“How do you know?”
“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.
CHAPTER 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.