Addicted After All (Addicted #3)(72)

I just worry that in twenty-four years, my son will be sitting where I am, thinking about all the mistakes that I made. How I f*cked up his life, the same way that I look at my father.

I only hope that I’m not walking down a path that leads there.

“You did that well?” Lily says, her brows cinching in this adorable way.

“Honestly…” I wrap my arms around her waist. “I have no f*cking idea.” At first, I thought Ryke bombed the meeting since he told two guys to “f*ck off” when they brought up Daisy. But the women warmed to him, a sign that they liked his protectiveness and took it as a positive attribute.

Even though we’re “working together” right now, I wish Ryke did worse. Then I’d have an indication who’s the frontrunner.

“At least you didn’t pee your pants,” Lily whispers, her cheeks reddening.

My hands rise to her warm face, her embarrassment and anxiety seeping into me. Christ. “No one even mentioned it today, love.” I wish I could just remove every uncomfortable emotion from her body.

“Really?” Her lips rise. So do her shoulders.

That was easy. I smile. “Really—”

Our bedroom door flies open. No knock. “Emergency meeting,” Rose declares, wearing a black robe, her hair in a pony. She acts like we invited her for a nightcap, aimed for the velvet purple couch against the wall. “Why is it so dark in here?” She takes a seat and cringes at the dim chandelier above our bed, as though it’s not doing its job.

I ignore her last statement and check the clock. Midnight. “You’re calling a meeting during the witching hour. Trying to harness your black magic, Rose?”

She narrows her yellow-green eyes at me. “I didn’t call this emergency meeting.” I frown, watching her shift uncomfortably on the couch, smashing a pillow behind her back. Having a pregnant belly hasn’t made her look any less evil.

“So then who called it?”

Lily steps out of my grasp, wearing a guilty smile.

“Lil…” I draw out. What’s going on?

“While you were at Hale Co., I was doing some research.” She shuffles over to our end table. “I have notes…”

I’m still confused.

“Connor is bringing the accused,” Rose says aloud.

And then Connor knocks on the wooden frame, standing in the doorway with his orange, slender tabby cat curled in his arms. “Has the meeting started?” he asks. Great. Everyone knows what the hell is going on but me.

I focus on Sadie, his cat. “This is about the cat?” I question, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Yes,” Lily says with a nod, scooting next to me with a handful of notes scribbled on various pink post-its.

Connor glances at the chandelier. “Why is it so dark in here?” And then he flicks the light switch, brightening the room so much that I squint. Jesus Christ.

“Better,” Rose tells him.

Lily watches Sadie, intensely, and she scuttles back onto the bed, picking her legs off the floor. I get her paranoia since Sadie has hissed at her multiple times.

Connor sits next to his wife, and then she stretches out, resting her legs on the couch like it’s a chaise, and he places a hand on her calves. She looks ten-thousand times more comfortable. And I’m ten-thousand times more aware that this isn’t going to be a short discussion.

Rose has her phone in hand, scrolling through her own notes. “Before we discuss Sadie, we need to talk about the cliques in this house.”

What the hell is she talking about? I tilt my head at Connor for answers.

He scratches behind Sadie’s ears, and I can’t shake how submissive a normally hostile cat is in his care. “We called both of you to see how Hale Co. went, and no one answered.”

Lily raises her hand like she’s in class. “I rarely answer my phone.”

“Yeah,” I say with a deeper frown. “We barely talk on the phone with each other.” I motion between my body and Lily who is now sitting behind me. She holds onto my waist and peeks from behind my bicep, seriously avoiding this damn cat.

“It just feels like we’ve been left out of important discussions,” Rose says without blowing a fuse. I bet they both prepared and talked out this entire conversation before bringing up the subject. “Like the other day, Ryke mentioned how Lily’s been having a hard time with her addiction. Where was I for this talk?”

I open my mouth to respond, but she already has an answer.

“I’ll tell you where.” She leans forward. “Downstairs.”

Jesus. This is not the first time she’s complained about room arrangements. She’s the one who chose the master on the main floor. The biggest room with the biggest bathroom with the biggest goddamn closet. Ryke didn’t care. Daisy didn’t care. Lily didn’t care. I cared on principle, but I let it slide after I saw the amount of pressed shirts Connor owns.

Now she’s worried about being “isolated” from the rest of us who room on the second floor. I ask, “You really think it’s an issue of proximity?” Maybe she’s bitching because Lily and Daisy are getting closer, and it scares her—being on the outs. Turning into Poppy Calloway who’d rather be with her husband and child than spend time with her sisters.

Rose doesn’t want that. She’s made it vitally clear.