Addicted After All(76)

I can feel her smiling as she wraps her legs around my waist, her arms around my neck. I hold her securely beneath her knees and I walk towards the bow. “Fly away with me, Lily Calloway?”

She whispers, “Only if we make-believe that we never, ever have to grow up.”

“There’s a problem with that, love,” I say, carrying her on my back across the deck.

“What’s that?” she asks, and I picture her adorable crinkled brows.

I’m smiling more than I have all night. “Our make-believe always turns out real.”

From our pretend weddings, to our pretend relationship—in the end, it’s all become reality. And I would love to never, ever grow up with Lily Calloway. In one universe, we’ll be young forever.





{ 22 }

LILY CALLOWAY



I stare hard at Lo’s back. It’s bare and naked and teasing me. Normally I’d be compelled to jump on him. Koala-bear-style. Now April and back in Philly, my belly has grown much bigger since Daisy’s birthday, so large that it’s a hindrance for all future piggyback rides.

He concentrates on the wall, running a paint roller across the surface. He only removed his shirt when he realized he had on his Cobalt Diamonds tee, a gift from Connor. And like my sister, Connor takes complete offense if you don’t take good care of his gifts. He wouldn’t appreciate a splatter of blue paint across his company’s logo.

My space on the wall looks pathetic in comparison to his section. In defense, all I’m working with is a small paint brush, and it doesn’t help that I’ve been taking breaks. The rocking chair calls out to me. Not only is it the only piece of furniture in the room, it relaxes all of my achy muscles.

Sitting on the floorboards, I languidly move my brush against the wall, not caring much about being neat or perfect. My eyes have landed on a new beauty.

Lo’s butt.

It’s beautiful.

Better than his bare, muscular shoulders. Then again, his butt isn’t naked right now.

“You staring at my ass, Lil?”

I jump in surprise, paint catching my wrist. Shit.

He looks over his shoulder, a smile in his eyes.

“You have a nice ass,” I tell him.

His grin descends to his lips, and then his gaze flits to the wide open door. Across from our nursery there’s another one.

Rose and Connor had all of their furniture imported from some boutique in Paris. They changed their mind about Hale Co. products at the last minute, and I think it has to do with Connor and Jonathan’s prolonged fight.

Rose offered to ship some items for us, but we want to support Hale Co., so all of our things should be arriving sometime this month.

I spot the baby pink walls and the twinkling chandelier dangling from the ceiling. A room fit for a princess. Even the walls have artistic floral designs, hand painted. Our nursery is bare except for the Hale Co. rocking chair and some muted blue paint.

I’ve never had a problem with my simple tastes, but I worry our kid might.

Maybe he should have a room fit for a prince.

Lo passes me to the door, shutting it quietly.

“Maybe we should hire someone to decorate?” I suggest. Rose has given me three business cards from various interior designers. She’s not-so-subtle with her hints.

“Our nursery will look beautiful, Lil.” He comes closer, placing his hands on my shoulders. “I mean, it may not have a chandelier.” His lips lift.

I smile too.

“But it’s going to be perfect,” he adds. “And if Rose has a boy, you can bet she’ll be jealous of all this.” He motions to the half-painted blue walls. My sister is still pretending that fate is working in her favor and that she’ll have a girl.

No one knows though. She won’t check.

“She has to have a backup plan if she has a boy,” I say. “Like some sort of on-call decorators. Rose is always prepared.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t think she does.” He pauses. “Can you imagine Rose holding a baby?”

“No,” I say honestly. It’s such a weird image. She even holds dolls at a distance, like they’ll grow life-like and start crying and spitting up on her. Rose is anti-babies, so the thought of her toting around a beautiful tiny one with her features…it’s just strange. “She must be really scared,” I realize. Rose keeps a lot inside, so it’s not like she struts around with her fears on her chest. They crop up in the actions she takes, the paths she walks.