“I want to see Rose before the show starts,” Connor confesses. “She sounded nervous this morning.”
“She is,” I say. “She’s mostly worried about no one showing up.” I even called her. Mostly to talk about Connor, but she wouldn’t really give me any details on their theatre date other than he acted exactly how she thought he would. Whatever that means. They’re still going out, so I can only presume that it went well. Hopefully they didn’t talk too much about Lo and me. I need to find time to tell Connor that Rose is unaware of certain aspects of our lives. Like Lo’s constant drinking.
“I told her that I have it handled, but she chooses not to believe me,” Connor says. Small wrinkles crease his eyes in discontent, an emotion I’ve yet to see from the unflappable Connor Cobalt.
“Who’d you call?” Lo wonders before eyeing Ryke at the bar. Even with days where Ryke asks Lo questions, he keeps him at a distance, answering back with sarcasm or disdain. And now that I am no longer a driving force in actively diverting Lo’s attention from alcohol, Ryke wastes no opportunity to glare at me. I can do nothing right.
“The owner of Macey’s, Nordstrom, H&M and some lesser known department stores will be there. It’ll be a full house.” Connor glances at me. “Don’t tell her about who’s going to be at the show. There’s no point in making her more anxious.”
“I won’t.”
Ryke stands from the bar, slipping his phone into his suit pocket, his wardrobe just as expensive as Connor and Lo’s. For some reason, his tailored suit catches me off guard. I expected him to be on an athletic scholarship, but by the fit and fine fabric, the suit clearly is name brand. Possibly Armani or Gucci. Which means he has money. Lots of it.
I realize I haven’t asked Ryke much about his personal life. Lo meant to, but he gets so irritated that he usually walks off.
Before Ryke can shoot me a scathing look, I find a good question. “What do your parents do?”
Connor puts his hand on my shoulder. “Talk and walk. We’re running late.” We’re really not, but Connor Cobalt’s definition of late is much different than mine. We leave the apartment with Connor in the rear, practically pushing us out.
Ryke sidles next to me, but Lo remains closer on my other side. “My mom doesn’t work. I come from some family money.”
Connor neurotically checks his watch again, and I press the lobby button on the elevator. “From your dad?”
“Yep,” Ryke says. “I don’t live with him. It’s always just been me and my mom.”
My chest swells at the news, and I can’t tell if it affects Lo or not. He looks utterly blank by the revelation.
“Divorce?” I wonder. Lo swoops his hands around my waist and I lean back against his chest. My eyes shut as I feel the pump of his heart and the warmness of his weight. I wish he’d lean me over and…no, Lily.
“Oh yeah,” Ryke says. “It was pretty messy. They were supposed to have joint custody of me, but my mom won full in the settlement.”
“Have you ever met him?”
“I have,” Ryke admits, somewhat detached like he’s dealt with all of this before and come to terms with it. “He’d send me gifts all the time, and my mom would throw them out. But she let me meet him the first Monday of every month since I was seven. He seemed like an okay guy, but I have years of my mom telling me some…pretty horrible things about him. Stuff that she shouldn’t have been telling me so young. After a while I stopped seeing him, and I stopped loving him too.” Ryke glances at Lo. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Aren’t your parents divorced?”
“I live with my father,” Lo says flatly. “He’s the greatest dad in the fucking world. Sorry yours couldn’t have been better.”
Ryke’s face hardens. “You have a good relationship with him?”
“The best.”
I stare at the ground, my stomach rolling at his biting tone.
“Your girlfriend doesn’t seem to agree.”
“Stop psychoanalyzing her movements,” he shoots back. Yes, please stop. Especially because I have to cross my ankles to focus on something other than sex at the present moment.
The elevator dings. As soon as my mind rights itself on a proper course, a sudden wave of anxiety crashes into me. Bringing Connor and Ryke to the fashion show feels like doom. I’ll end up trading these overwhelming emotions for fantasies and carnal highs. That sounds better than this creeping anxiety.