I dodge the staff that mills around the mansion and climb the grand staircase toward Rose’s old room where she stays when she visits. I knock a couple of times before the door swings open. As soon as her green-yellow eyes hit me, her lips purse and her entire body goes rigid like she’s practicing to be a guard for the Queen of England.
“We need to talk,” I say, glad that the door hasn’t hit me in the face yet. That’s something.
She continues to block the entrance into her room. I’m obviously unwelcome in her sanctuary. I’ve really screwed up this time. “What is there to talk about? You had sex with Loren during my fashion show. I’m done being surprised or hurt or shocked, Lily,” she says, removed from the drama.
“I’m sorry.” I touch my chest. “You don’t know how sorry I am. I promise I’ll be a better sister.”
Rose shakes her head, brows furrowing. “Stop, Lily. I’m tired of your promises. You’ll always choose Lo. And the two of you will never give a shit about anyone else. You’re selfish, and unless I want to go through life constantly disappointed, I’ve learned to accept that character flaw. You should do the same.”
Her cellphone rings in the background and she glances back, still not offering to let me inside. “I have to go. It’s Macy’s.” She shuts the door before I can even utter the word congratulations. Maybe I should have started with that.
I contemplate her words on the ride home, and wonder if she’s right. If accepting the fact that I’m selfish and unable to change will help heal the guilt.
If not—maybe sex will.
{22}
I make an effort to call Rose more often. For the most part she answers and gives me updates on Calloway Couture. Sometimes she’s short with me, but it’s better than slammed doors. While I try to heal my relationship with Rose and ignore the rest of my family, Lo spends time with Connor at the gym.
Ryke continues to follow us around, and since the fashion show where—for one strange moment—Lo and Ryke seemed to band together, they’ve been much more cordial. Ryke has pretended to scribble notes for his fake article, but he usually tries to understand Lo. Last night, they started talking about their experience with nannies. One of Lo’s used to drink strawberry margaritas and was sloshed by noon. Apparently Ryke had a similar situation, only his nanny let him sip her mimosas and bloody marys. He was only eleven.
I pull a brush through my wet hair while Lo rubs a towel through his. Shower sex. Classy.
I almost can’t remember why I was so worried about my lifestyle. I’m more than capable of making everything work.
Today the professor posted the econ grades online. As usual, Lo refuses to divulge his grade, but I earned a C+, which is practically an A+ in Connor’s mind. He insisted on celebrating. Only for Connor Cobalt can achievements wipe slates clean. Lo somehow squirmed back into his good graces too. After the fashion show stunt, I thought we’d be blacklisted from any events with Connor. But I think it all comes down to Rose. His one human weakness happens to be my sister. And if she’s forgiven me, then she’s probably ordered him to do the same.
I’m still trying to untangle my hair when Connor arrives with Ryke. Lo leaves to answer the door and I snap one of the comb’s teeth. Really? How is that even possible? I’ve finally acquired a superpower—indestructible hair. Super lame.
My door stands open as I search for another comb. Or better yet, an actual brush to tackle these knots. I hear the guys in the living room, but they must not realize it because their conversation turns from the best pizza joints in Philly to me.
“Whose idea was it to ditch the fashion show?” Ryke asks.
“Is this for your article?” Lo wonders.
“No, just curious.”
“I wanted to fuck her. So I did. And didn’t you ditch the show too? What’s your excuse?”
“I have a hot girlfriend that I wanted to fuck,” he banters. “No, really, I had food poisoning from that taco stand around the corner.”
“We eat there all the time,” Lo says. “I’ve never been sick.” Does he think Ryke’s lying? He has no reason to. Actually, he probably wishes he could have stayed to witness my demise.
“Then maybe it was bad milk in my cereal. I don’t know,” he says exasperatedly.
Connor cuts in. “It was really your idea, Lo?”
I close my eyes, hoping Lo rejects some of the blame.
“She wasn’t exactly saying no.” Okay, I thought that would feel better.