Addicted After All (Addicted #3)(99)

“He can’t even learn the ABCs yet, Lily. He doesn’t know what this means.” He goes and makes the rude gestures with both of his hands now. He’s a horrible influence.

“You just want to be the cool uncle, admit it,” I combat.

“You’re just scared that Moffy is going to like me more than Connor, admit that.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “Will not.” Though I can’t deny that he’s given Maximoff a cool nickname, one that I wish I’d thought of first.

“Uh-oh.” Daisy goes rigid, her phone in her hand. She slowly hops off the bar stool and sidles next to her boyfriend. Instead of showing me the screen first, she flashes it to him.

He takes the cell from her, and I watch his jaw harden to stone.





{ 36 }

LILY CALLOWAY



“What is it?” My heart palpitates. Bad news? The media? It can’t be a three-way rumor involving Ryke. I had a paternity test a week ago, per our publicist’s advice after lots of pushing. And the results were already announced: Loren Hale is Maximoff’s father.

Ryke glances hesitantly at his brother before he says, “Celebrity Crush posted a photo of Daisy and me leaving the grocery store.”

My shoulders slacken. It’s not about me. A very selfish thought, I realize. “That’s good, right?” The more they’re shown together, in public, means that people will accept them as a real couple.

Lo rises with Maximoff in his arms. We have this chart for feedings and diaper changes. All very organized. All very Rose Calloway-esque. She helped me chart out daily activities and how much the babies should be drinking. Basically, leveling out all my anxiety into a list. Now I kind of understand her obsession with them. It was like therapy. List-therapy. It’s a thing.

“What’s wrong with the photo?” Lo asks skeptically.

Daisy shifts on her feet and tugs at the hem of her white tee. “We…you know how you guys put us in charge of shopping for the house this week?”

This isn’t about me…is it?

“Spit it out,” Lo snaps. Maximoff detaches from his bottle and begins to wail. Lo’s body tightens even more. “I’m sorry, little guy.” He bounces him a bit, and then he quiets, returning to his bottle.

“Here.” Ryke holds the cellphone up to Lo. I crane over his shoulder to read it. The headline: Ryke Meadows and Daisy Calloway shopping for baby Cobalt and baby Hale! There’s an additional zoomed image of the grocery cart, some of the labels visible in the white plastic bags. Diapers. Cereal. Lightning Bolt!. And baby formula.

I don’t understand. It’s not that bad.

I skim down and read the article by Wendy Collins.

Inside sources, close to the Calloway family, tell us that not one but both Calloway sisters went for the formula option to feed their babies. The sources say, “Lily and Rose would rather have assistants and their grandmother look after their babies. They don’t want the responsibility. It’s a big reason why they chose formula. Rose and Lily aren’t prepared for motherhood and they know it.”

I stop reading there. None of us even have nannies. It’s too hard to trust someone with something so precious when we’ve been burned before. We all thought it was safer to raise our children without them.

“That’s complete trash,” Lo declares. “Who’s this so-called inside source anyway? Samantha Calloway?”

Daisy and I exchange a look, trying to gauge whether our mom could even do that. No…my mom isn’t that self-serving. “What would she get out of it?” Daisy asks.

“Right here…” Lo points at the phone. “Especially from the grandmother. Who do you think that is? Connor’s mom is dead. And my mom is five-hundred miles away, not caring about me or any of this shit.” His harsh tone is like acid, scorching my ears.

It’s been so long since he’s even mentioned his mom. Years, probably. Emily Moore might as well be a figment, a ghost. I haven’t even met her, but when I do think about her, my stomach starts to roil. It’s not a pleasant feeling, and I imagine, for Lo, the sensations are a million times more harrowing.

But maybe he’s buried it so deep down that he doesn’t feel anything anymore. Shut it out and said goodbye. I know when he met her, he closed the door on that part of his life for good.

“If we know anything,” Ryke says, handing Daisy back her cell, “it’s that Connor probably has a million f*cking lawyers on this. They basically called his wife a bad mom.”

“Yeah, but they always call me a bad mom,” I say. “So the one time they blatantly call Rose a bad mom, everyone is going to throw a tantrum?” My heart sinks.

Ryke extends his arms. “I didn’t say it was right. I’m just saying prepare yourself for that double-edged sword, Calloway. It f*cking hurts.” He rocks back like someone is going to punch his arm, but I don’t care about swear words anymore. It seems unimportant.

I appreciate Ryke’s warning, I do. It’s nice being back to these conversations without feeling weird around him, but it’s days like these where I wish none of us were in the spotlight at all. It’s where I wonder how life will be like for Maximoff, famous since birth.

We all lived our adolescence out of the public eye. They’re going to be raised right in it.