Kiss the Sky (Calloway Sisters #1)(35)

I pause, my chopsticks frozen above the ginger. So he’s definitely playing into our fake old relationship. Two can play this game. “I never ate sushi with you,” I retort. “You said you hated it, and you always made me eat alone.”

His lips twitch in a cringe, which he hides very well. He sets his to-go box on his lap. “Things have changed.”

“You like sushi now?”

He eats a piece, chews and swallows. “I love sushi now.” He smiles, and I absorb his features, the dishwater blond hair that’s styled in a messy, dysfunctional way. And the light layer of scruff along his jaw that makes him look a little older than his age.

I hate that he’s not ugly. I wish he had a thousand warts and a hairy nose. Instead, he could be an actor on a daytime soap, not a producer.

“You miss me,” he suddenly says.

My eyes tighten. “Not for a second.” My phone buzzes on the desk.

Scott snatches it before I can.

“That’s incredibly rude,” I tell him as he opens my text.

He lets out a laugh. “Marilyn Monroe, Paul Newman, James Dean. Your boyfriend is so fucking weird.” He tosses the phone back to me, and I just barely catch it without dropping my chopsticks.

“Sometimes weird is better than normal,” I say. “Normal can be boring.”

He touches his chest. “I’m not boring, honey.”

Why does he have to say everything so condescendingly? “I fell asleep every time you wanted to have sex. What do you call that?”

“A personal problem.”

I roll my eyes and quickly text Connor back. Fuck. Marry. Kill. I’m more comfortable with the idea of having sex with a woman than I am with a man, as strange as that may seem. Connor will most likely pick up on this, but I don’t care. I hit send and set my phone back safely on the desk, away from Scott’s grabby fucking hands.

“I saw your mother yesterday,” he says.

“You did?” I try not to act surprised, but my heart has lodged in my throat for a second. Why would he visit my mother?

“We ate lunch and caught up. It was like old times.” He passes me a water bottle and then takes a swig of his Cherry Fizz. “She said she wished Daisy was around, that the house was too quiet without all of you girls there.”

“Stop,” I tell him, standing up and setting the sushi on the desk. It feels like fool’s food, a trap, something you give a three-headed dog before sneaking into a treasure cove.

He frowns. And I can’t tell whether it’s real or fake. Honest or deceitful. “What’s wrong?”

“You don’t know me,” I refute. I return to my tubs of clothes, but I don’t want to squat down in front of him.

“I do know you,” he lies.

I spin around and realize he’s casually leaning against the front of my desk. “Can you please leave?”

“I don’t get it. I say one thing about your mother and you throw a tantrum.”

I glance at the camera. I don’t want to vilify my mother to the nation. I don’t want to cause her that pain. She’s a good woman even if she does bad things sometimes. But the more he pokes me, the more these thoughts and feelings resurface, the more I can’t bite my tongue. That’s Connor’s specialty. He’s the river that idly passes between mountains. I’m the volcano that destroys a village.

“What is it?” he taunts, his voice anything but kind. He wears an antagonistic smile. “She didn’t buy you a diamond necklace? She forgot your eighteenth birthday?”

“My mother would never forget my birthday,” I tell him. “She’s always been there for me.”

Scott shrugs like I’m insane. Maybe I am. Maybe my feelings are irrational. Maybe I’m losing my mind with all the stresses in my life. “She was upset that she was an empty-nester. It’s normal, Rose.”

“I don’t want her to take Daisy back,” I suddenly blurt out.

Scott frowns again. “Why not? Do you have some perverse fantasy about raising her, becoming a mother because Connor won’t have kids with you?”

“Fuck you,” I curse. I grab my handbag and lift one of the tubs awkwardly in my arms. Scott doesn’t offer to carry it for me (not that I would let him). “You can see yourself out.”

“My pleasure.”

I struggle to open the door with one hand. This time, I don’t have Connor behind me to scoop up the box and help. I manage fine at first. I breeze through the door and head down the hall, breathing sporadic breaths that slide down my throat like brittle knives.

The tub drops out of my hands by the elevator. The lid cracks, and I hurriedly fold each article of clothing before placing them back inside.

I don’t want to float inside my head, but the longer I take, the more I feel the past whisper against my neck like a cold, familiar ghost. I see my oldest sister, Poppy, who grew tall before the rest of us, who was out the door, married and pregnant in practically no time at all.

When she left, my mother focused her excess attention on me, pressuring me to continue ballet, attending every practice and recital, filling my schedule with dinner dates and functions. And I wanted to make her proud. How else can you give thanks to someone who gives you everything you desire? Who showers you with things that glitter? You become someone they can gloat over; you become their greatest prize.