Addicted After All(107)
Ryke flips him off, but Connor still passes him a bowl for his cereal and Ryke accepts it.
When Ryke glowers with sunken eyes, he appears more serious. “Look, Daisy already has sleep problems. She doesn’t need a baby adding to that. I can have a bad f*cking night’s sleep fine, but hers just pile up.”
When he pours his cereal, a couple pieces of granola hit the bowl and then the grainy dust plumes like flour. He reached the bottom of the box.
He slowly turns to glare at me and my breakfast, which was the last of his cereal apparently.
“It tastes like cardboard,” I tell him. “Honestly, I don’t know how you can eat this regularly.”
“Then why the f*ck are you eating it, man?” he growls in distress.
“Because it’s the only cereal left in the house and I was hungry,” I defend. “Buy some Cheerios or Frosted Flakes like a normal person.”
“There’s too much sugar in—you know what, f*cking eat it. If you have the shits, that’s f*cking karma for you.”
I practically finished the cereal before he walked into the kitchen, but I’ve eaten it before fine. It doesn’t contain that much fiber.
Ryke retrieves the orange juice from the fridge instead. “Daisy and I are moving to the basement tonight.”
I’m surprised it’s taken him four weeks to reach this decision.
“You can take the master on this floor,” Connor says. “It’s vacant.”
Ryke shakes his head. “Rose still uses the closet space, and Daisy doesn’t want to take that from her.”
“Just have a baby,” I banter, setting my bowl in the sink. “Then you can justify getting shit sleep.” I catch sight of a Celebrity Crush magazine by the coffee pot, something I’m sure Lily bought. I pick it up to trash it.
Ryke retorts, “That’s not going to happen any time soon.”
My brows rise, realizing he didn’t discount it entirely. “You want kids?”
“Not any time soon,” he emphasizes this point. “I haven’t even been with her for a year yet, anything can happen.” I watch his features darken, and he knocks the empty cereal box over, just frustrated. Hale Co. is putting strain on his relationship. I can tell he’s dreading the “anything can happen” future.
I head to the pantry to toss the magazine, and before I do, I catch one of the smaller headlines on the cover: [POLL] Who makes the better mother: Lily Calloway or Rose Cobalt?
Great. Like Lily hasn’t been comparing herself more to Rose as the weeks go by. It’s not healthy. Rose has faults, but they’re much different than Lily’s, and any way you look at it—Lily somehow always falls short in comparison. At least in terms of motherhood.
Which is just shit.
Has anyone heard the crap that comes out of Rose’s mouth about kids? Not really. The reality show didn’t show most of it, and the interviews that we do (from Samantha’s persistence to keep us relevant) are usually censored. Meaning the Calloway’s publicists will tell the journalists not to ask Rose about kids. Because Rose has no filter and will probably call them monsters to the entire goddamn world.
She even calls Jane a little gremlin from time to time. Oddly, it does sound affectionate in an “ice-queen slowly thawing” kind of way, but I don’t think the general public would pick up on that.
I open the article, just to see the results of the poll and torture myself. Maybe Lily is rubbing off on me.
Who makes the better mother?
Lily: 46%
Rose: 54%
My blood goes from a boil to a simmer. It’s not a landslide like I thought. I check above the poll, and realize they labeled the girls with their pros and cons. I scan Lily’s first.
Con: sex addict, in a three-way relationship (rumored), boyfriend is an alcoholic
Pro: successful business, sweet, loves her long-term boyfriend (and her rumored second bf)
My teeth ache, and I realize I’m clenching them too hard. I go through Rose’s list.
Con: sex tapes
Pro: successful boutique, married, A-type personality
How the hell is A-type personality even on here? Rose will be great at keeping track of her kid’s schedule; I’ll give her that. I’m pissed at myself for even entertaining this article. I chuck it in the trash and return to Connor and Ryke about the same time that Rose struts into the kitchen.
“Baby in the room,” she says, cradling her newborn with one arm and holding an empty bottle with the other. Her hair is damp like she just took a shower and didn’t have time to blow it dry.