Addicted to You (Addicted #1)(18)

Her lips tighten in a thin line and she whispers to Poppy, who quickly whispers back.

“Ladies,” my mother chides. “Don’t be rude.”

Rose straightens and sets her frosty gaze on me. “I think it’s odd that you’ve been drinking orange juice and water.”

“I’m driving,” I tell her. What is with everyone and my choice to be sober? When did it become abnormal to refuse alcohol at a meal?

My mother huffs. “That’s what Nola is for, Lily.”

“Anderson as well,” Jonathan adds.

Anderson the Nark. Never.

“Well, I have a reason to believe your choice of drink has nothing to do with driving,” Rose says. What?!

“What are you insinuating?” My heart beats wildly. Please don’t let it be what I think. Please, please, please. Lo squeezes my hip to reassure me, but whatever is coming, is bad.

“Yes, Rose, what are you insinuating?” My mother comes to my defense.

“I have a friend who goes to Penn. She saw Lily walking out of the pregnancy center last month.”

Last month…oh, jeez. I cover my eyes with a hand, and slouch so low in my seat, I’m practically eye-level with the table.

My father chokes on his drink, and Jonathan has gone very, very pale, a feat I didn’t think possible for his Irish skin.

“Is this true?” my mother asks.

Yes.

I open my mouth. I can’t say the real answer. Yeah, I went there. I visit the health clinic to check for STDs every couple days, okay? And I take pregnancy tests. I am safe and I know it. Most people can’t say that.

Or the whole truth, one afternoon the pink plus sign actually haunted me. They sent me to the pregnancy center for an ultrasound. False alarm, thankfully.

“Lily, explain,” my mother nearly shrieks.

Lo stares at me for a long moment before he realizes I’m in no capacity to form words, let alone lies.

“It was just a scare,” he says and turns his attention to Rose. “It’s funny how you choose now to bring this up when you’ve known for a whole month.”

“I was waiting for Lily to tell me herself. I thought we were closer than this.”

My lungs collapse.

“Why wouldn’t you tell me?” my mother asks.

I swallow hard.

“Or me,” Poppy says.

Daisy raises her hand and points to herself. “Me too!”

I press my fingers to my eyes before waterworks kick in. “It-it was nothing.”

My mother’s nose flares. “Nothing? An unplanned pregnancy is not nothing.”

Dad cuts in, “You have your entire future ahead of you, and children will change the way your life works forever. You can’t undo that.” Yeah, I’m pretty positive a kid would hinder our lifestyles, a reason why I’ve been so careful thus far. I don’t have the heart or strength to tell them everything. That if the pink plus sign stuck around, the kid wouldn’t even belong to Lo.

I stand up quickly, my head pumping with helium. It floats but I still manage words. “I need some air.”

“We’re outside,” Rose says.

Lo rises from his seat. “Air that you don’t breathe.” He places his palm on the small of my back.

“Loren,” Jonathan growls.

“What?” he growls back, his gaze falling to his father’s whiskey, envy and bitterness clouding his amber irises.

“It’s been a long afternoon,” my father says. “Lily looks pale. Take her inside, Loren.”

Before anyone changes their mind, Lo ushers me through the French glass doors and into the nearest bathroom. I collapse on the toilet seat.

“Why would she do that?” My chest constricts with each breath. I tug at the tight fabric of my dress that suctions to my ribs. What if her friend saw me walk out of the sexual health clinic instead? How do I explain checking for STDs?

Lo kneels in front of me and presses a warm wash cloth to my forehead. A flashback hits me—of doing the same to him. In less than a few hours, we’ve switched places.

“Rose can be cruel,” Lo reminds me.

I shake my head. “She was hurt.” And this is how Rose Calloway retaliates against someone who’s affected her. “She wanted me to tell her first.” I rub my eyes, trembling. How will Rose take the knowledge that I sleep around? Will she hate me afterwards? I have no clue. Predicting her reaction has caused restless nights, and so I decided it’s safe to just keep my nighttime activities to myself. I thought it would be easier on everyone.

“Breathe, Lil,” he whispers. When I inhale and exhale in synchronization, he deserts the washcloth for his flask. After a couple swigs, he wipes his mouth with his hand and rests against the sink cabinets.

“This is getting harder.” I stare at my hands, as though they hold my intangible lies.

“I know,” he breathes. I wait for him to say the words, I’m done pretending.

Instead, we eat the silence. The swish of his alcohol and my sniffles are the only music to our misery.

Someone knocks on the door, and Lo stuffs the flask back into my purse.

“Lily? Can I talk to you?” Poppy asks.

Lo glances at me for what to do. I nod. And he goes to the sink, putting his mouth underneath the faucet. He spits water back into the bowl and then opens the door.