Daisy meets my worried gaze and she wraps an arm around my shoulder. “I’m okay, Lily.”
I don’t feel like she is.
I remember being young, trying to navigate what’s wrong and what’s right in a place where lines blur so very often. But I had Lo to fall back on—to make sure I didn’t fall off the deep end and drown.
Daisy is thrust into this modeling world without all of us there to catch her. She’s alone and confused. And I’m not sure how to fix that without telling her to quit. But she would never leave—not because of the money but because her career is related to our mother’s happiness. And keeping our mother happy makes Daisy happy.
My phone vibrates, and I check the caller ID. Poppy.
I click off the phone and slip it back into the pocket of my jean shorts.
“Who was that?” Daisy asks, talking over the loud blender.
“Poppy.”
Rose glares at the bartender for being so slow, and Daisy’s forehead wrinkles in confusion. “Why would you hang up on her?”
“I just don’t feel like talking.” It’s the truth. And anyway, my relationship with Poppy is distanced at best. She’s six years older, so by the time I entered ninth grade, she was two years into college and engaged.
Rose’s phone rings, and she answers the cell on the first chime. “Hello, Poppy.” She gives me a sharp look, but nothing nearly as upset as Daisy right now.
“Is that why you don’t answer my calls?” Daisy asks. “You just don’t feel like talking?”
The accusation hurts when I remember Daisy is four years younger than me—five years in August when I turn twenty-one. Almost the same age gap as Poppy and me.
But any ability to heal a relationship with my eldest sister has sailed long ago. She’s married. She has a baby and started a family of her own. I have a chance to be a sister to Daisy, and I’m trying my damned hardest.
“No, that’s not it, Dais.”
“Yes, Poppy, we’re having fun. The mojitos are weak, but the margaritas are usually good.” Rose’s sight is still planted on that sluggish bartender, taking ages to squeeze lime into the frozen slush. “Yes, Lily is with us. She couldn’t hear your cell because of all the noise.”
Daisy bumps my arm. “Then what is it?” she asks, waiting for a viable excuse. This is it, I think. This is the moment where I should come clean and tell her I have a sex addiction, and that, in the past, I preferred sex over anything else—even talking to her.
My throat tightens for a minute, and then I say, “I’m just all awkward on the phone. I guess I prefer texting.” The lie tastes bitter and rolls my stomach.
Daisy stares at the bar, quiet, which I’m not sure is a good or bad sign.
“What?” Rose says over the phone, perplexed. “Are you sure it was addressed to Lily?”
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“Hold on, let me ask.” Rose cups a hand to the receiver and tugs me away from the bar, separating from Daisy a little, but she joins us, curious. I would be too if I was her. “Did you mail a package to the Villanova house?” Rose asks. Villanova…my parent’s house? Why…
“Why would I do that?”
Rose’s bony shoulders stiffen in sharp angles.
“What package?” Daisy asks.
“Here talk to her.” Rose hands me the phone.
I press the cell to my ear, my nerves spiking. “Hey, Poppy. What’s going on?”
“Lily, I’m at the Villanova house for Maria’s birthday party,” she explains in a hushed tone, as if she’s afraid someone will hear. “Harold just brought the mail in, and there’s a package addressed to you. It’s from a website called Kinkyme.net. There are literally X’s all over the box. He was going to give it to Mom, but I stopped him before he could.”
“I didn’t order that,” I say quickly, my heart beating out of my chest.
“It’s fine if you did,” Poppy says gently, “I’m just wondering why you would mail something like that here. Mom would have your head.”
“Honestly, I really didn’t.”
Rose seems a little skeptical, and I wonder if she thinks I sent the package there to hide it from her and Lo or something. She trusts me about as much as Ryke trusts Lo.
I make a sudden decision. “Poppy, can you open it and see what it is?”
Rose’s eyes go wild, but now she can’t possibly believe I sent the package.