Addicted After All(13)

I descend the stairs and round into the kitchen—twice as large as the one in the Princeton house. The expensive silver appliances, granite countertops, gray walls, and leather bar stools are all thanks to some interior designer Rose hired. Every time I notice the mansion décor, modern and classic and more adult than I am, I realize that I’m supposed to have my shit together.

That I’m no longer in my college years.

I’m twenty-four. Time to grow up.

I’m trying.

God, I’m trying.

By the marbled sink, Connor grabs a blue mug from a glass cabinet. “Morning, darling,” he says. He’s dressed in Nike athletic pants and a navy blue T-shirt, so I don’t have to ask if he’s still on for the gym.

I nod to him and rest my forearms on the cold counter. “Boy or girl?” I ask, the question already jailing my muscles in an uncomfortable vice. I decide to do sit-ups in the kitchen while I wait for him. I walk in front of the island and lie on the floorboards.

“Is this what I want or what I think Rose will have?” he questions.

“What you want.” I watch him pour his coffee, and then I rest my hands behind my head and use my core to rise to my bent legs.

Connor walks over and steps on the tops of my shoes, keeping me stationary. He cups his mug. “I want many children, so I don’t really mind which one is first, as long as there’s a second.”

It surprises me, and I freeze midway to my knees. “Why?” He’s arrogant, conceited—really self-absorbed, not in a bad way exactly. It’s just a fact. And none of those things say I want a big, loud family.

He grins into his sip of coffee, towering above me at six-four. “The challenge is worth the reward, and I’m ready for a new one.”

At least one of us is confident. I scowl, my back touching the floor again.

“You’re going to do fine, Lo,” Connor assures me.

I want to believe him, but if anyone is good at placating people, it’s Connor. I can’t put faith in every word he says when I know it’s designed to calm me. I love it. I need it. But my past history says I’m more likely to fail than succeed. So I tell him, “We’ll see.”

Feet patter against the floorboards, and I turn my head, first noticing a hemp ankle bracelet. Long legs hidden beneath sweatpants—Ryke’s sweatpants—and a yellow cut-off top with the words: flower power.

What the hell. “Where’s your boyfriend?” I ask Daisy as she opens the fridge. There’s no way they had sex. He’d last longer than one minute with her. I stifle a worse cringe. Don’t think about it.

“Huh?” She plays dumb, grabbing a Lightning Bolt! energy drink.

I rest my forearms on my knees, and Connor watches her closely, still drinking his coffee. She has dark rings beneath bloodshot eyes.

“You look like shit,” I tell her flatly. “Where’s your boyfriend?”

She dips her baseball cap low, shrouding her gaze. That’s annoying. “Your dad won’t care how I look, right?”

I don’t know. “If you’re worried about it, you can put on makeup,” I say, my sharp tone cutting my eardrums. “Lily won’t, so you don’t have to.” I exhale, and Connor steps off my shoes to refill his coffee. Something tells me that we’re not going to make it to the gym today.

“Ryke’s right here.” She motions past me and takes a swig of her energy drink.

That’s when my brother rounds the island corner, entering the kitchen. He beelines straight for Daisy and snatches the baseball cap off her head, her damp blonde hair soaking her shirt.

“Hey, bro,” I say, not adding anything more since Daisy’s here. It’s normal for the three of us to talk about the girls and sex, but not when they’re around. And I have a pretty good feeling they do the same to us.

Ryke turns his head, and I give him a look like what the f*ck happened? I thought he had a plan in motion.

“She’s not Lily,” he suddenly tells me.

My eyes narrow, my blood heating. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Yeah?” Daisy asks Ryke with a frown.

Ryke lets out a frustrated groan. “Just drop it.”

“No,” I snap. Now my mind is reeling. “You started it. You finish it.”

“Words to live by,” Connor smiles. He’s completely at ease with no information about this argument, but maybe he has everything he needs by observing us.