I produce a half-smile. “We all can’t be into ball gags and handcuffs.” I have tied Lily up before though. That’s not new to me. Connor and Rose’s sex tapes, however, go beyond anything I’ve done. I haven’t actually watched them, nor do I ever want to, but the internet still talks.
“No, we can’t,” he says softly in agreement. “And I’ve never been a fan of ball gags, though I appreciate their purpose.” He pauses. “Can I talk to you in the kitchen?” His eyes flicker to the office across the hall, the door ajar. In the shadows, an outline of a body moves behind it. Rose. Her mere presence clenches my stomach.
For the past couple of weeks, Lily and Rose have barely spoken more than a few words in passing, on a quiet streak. Ever since Rose and Connor returned from their honeymoon in Bora Bora, the atmosphere has been…tense.
I glance back at my bedroom, the door cracked, Lily still fast asleep underneath the covers.
“I’ll save you the time,” I tell him, speeding up this lecture. “This was a one-time thing. I’m not enabling her. I know what I’m doing. The end. If you’d like any more information than that, then you’re going to have to spill details about your sex life.” Not that I want any more than what I’ve already received from the tabloids. But fair’s fucking fair. I cross my arms, waiting for his reply.
“I’m not Ryke or Rose,” he reminds me. “I trust that you won’t enable Lily and vice versa.”
Then what’s this about? I frown.
To convince me more, Connor says, “Just a few minutes downstairs.”
“If you don’t mind my stench.”
“You smell lovely, darling.” He already aims for the staircase. “Just how I dream of.”
I snort into a smile. “Alright.” I follow his lead.
Once we pass through the living room, the archway and into the kitchen, Connor starts the coffee machine. I catch the time on the oven. 4 a.m. Morning for him. The dead of night for me. He still wears pajama pants, so at least we’re on equal footing there.
I hoist myself up onto the low counter and lean back into the cabinets. “Does this conversation happen to involve two very stubborn Calloway girls?”
“It does.” He opens a cupboard by my head. He’s so tall that we’re actually eyelevel. “It’s really trivial.” He retrieves a black mug. “If they both sat down and talked, they’d realize that they’re on the same side. But instead, your girlfriend isn’t getting any sleep and neither is my wife.”
“How do you know Lily isn’t sleeping?” My edged voice hurts my ears at this time of night.
“You just had sex for four hours,” he says, knowing everything before I even tell him. It’s not as annoying right now as it could be. “And I’ve also seen Lily awake in the living room at 2 a.m. a few times.”
My lips downturn, worry coating my features. “What was she doing?” I must have fallen asleep already, and she crawled out of bed.
“Reading Kafka,” he says. “She said that she was hoping my reading material would bore her to sleep.”
I let out a heavy breath. When Rose and Connor left for their honeymoon, the words “slut” and “whore” and “gross” were never thrown around in the media. The headlines commended Rose for being monogamous, strong and open enough to defend her right to be submissive in bed.
The polar opposite happened to Lily. She was degraded, humiliated and dragged through the mud. Still is. Every fucking day.
She can’t sleep and forgets to eat sometimes. I’ve already talked to her professors for next semester, setting up her courses so she can watch the lectures online and attend the classes for exams. While my girlfriend sinks under the weight of the world’s hypocrisy, she bears this immeasurable guilt that no one understands.
No one but me.
Deep down, she wishes that Rose had the same outcome as her, so at least she could feel less singled out, less repulsed by herself, less like a spot on the world that should have been wiped clean. And she can’t destroy those feelings or try to explain them. Because they seem completely fucked up.
But I know what it’s like to have emotions that war within you. To want something so cold and callous, only to feel a shred of self-worth.
I get it.
I fucking get it.
Rose is willing to give Lily time to sort through her feelings and come to terms with what’s happened. But that means a stalemate between them. When they walk into the same room, they withhold most conversation and barely meet eyes.