Kiss the Sky (Calloway Sisters #1)(70)

Our trip to the Alps has been scheduled for a while since production wanted to film in a vacation setting. But it couldn’t have arrived at a better time. We all needed a break from the rabid paparazzi. The cabin has been rented out and stocked with wood, the climate still biting and snowy at the end of March.

3 months – Mom





3 months and Lily will be married. 3 months and I need to finish sewing the gown. After five sketches, I think I designed the perfect one, and I brought some fabrics here to start. Connor says I should just hand it over to a seamstress, but I want it to be perfect. If this is the only thing I get right for Lily—then the whole wedding is a success in my eyes. Maybe not for my mother, but for me—definitely.

Everyone unloads groceries while Lily and I scope out the beds to assign rooms. I hate to ruin her suddenly cheerful mood with wedding talk, but she’s created the perfect opportunity.

“So since you like France, you won’t mind that your wedding is in Paris.”

Lily lifts her body up on her elbows. “Does that mean that the reporters won’t film it?” The wedding is supposed to be national news, broadcasted on multiple cable networks sponsored by Global Broadcasting Association, as if Lily and Loren are royalty. GBA bought the rights to film us, against other big names like ABC, NBC, and CBS.

“I think they’ll fly out for it.”

“Oh…”

The silence stretches longer than it should, the tension heightening. “I can change it if you’d like. You just haven’t given me any ideas or hints as to what you want.”

“I want to still be engaged in three months.”

“Lily—”

She holds up her hands. “I know,” she exclaims with a sigh. “That’s not a choice.” She thinks for a second. “I guess Paris will be fun.” She grins. “Can we have crepes at the wedding?”

“Already ordered.”

She jumps off the bed and throws her thin arms around my waist. “Thank you, Rose…” She pauses. “I’m sorry I’m making this hard for you to plan.”

“It’s okay. I like the challenge,” I lie. That’s Connor’s thing. Challenges. Games. I’d prefer my path to be an easy one.





*



Ryke lets out an exhausted huff as he barges through the front door, supporting my fifty pound suitcase in his arms. “What the fuck did you bring, Rose?”

“Sweaters and jackets take up more room than bathing suits,” I defend from the kitchen. Lily, Daisy, and I start stocking the wooden cupboards, and we make soup for dinner. Ben, Brett, and Savannah are still here, but they’re silently buzzing around, trying to unload their camera equipment as quickly as possible.

Savannah is the fastest, and I refrain from cheering her on, but she deserves the praise. Those steadicam contraptions are heavy. She’s already on her feet, heading to us.

Loren traipses in behind Ryke with Lily’s duffel slung over his shoulder, trekking in snow. He watches his brother struggle to keep my suitcase in his arms. Loren looks unsurprised by my over-packing, considering he’s attended many family trips with us.

“It has wheels, you know,” Loren tells him like he’s a moron.

“It’s fucking snowing,” Ryke growls.

Loren turns to me. “Don’t you already own a slav—I mean a boyfriend.” He flashes a sardonic grin.

In perfect timing, Connor walks through the doorway easily carrying my other two duffel bags without an issue. Yes, I have a problem over-packing. I need choices, and I would have gladly brought my own luggage inside but we divided up duties.

“We were just talking about you,” Loren tells Connor.

“I heard,” he says. “In terms of ownership, we’re both on equal footing…unless you’re talking about in bed.”

“I can see how she’d be bossy.”

Connor grins and slides past Loren and Ryke to drop off my bags. Loren’s brows bunch together in confusion while my neck heats.

Lily tugs my arms. “You’ve done things, haven’t you?” she asks in a whisper-hiss. “And you haven’t told me?”

Savannah edges close with her camera, her red braids against a black chunky sweater with mini pink skulls. Her goth look is actually quite cute, and she’s more apt to crack a smile than porky Brett, who only looks happy when he catches Lily doing something sexual.

He’s still my least favorite of the three-person crew.

“Maybe,” I answer Lily evasively.

At the stove, Daisy stirs the soup with a large ladle, smiling brightly until she looks up and her eyes lock on someone.

I follow her gaze and find her “boyfriend” strolling into the cabin as he texts on his phone. Tall, dark-haired, Italian, a quarter Spanish. I had a five-minute conversation with him on the plane, and it was clear Daisy didn’t hide Julian from us because he’s dumb.

He’s six years older than her.

To say that most of us were displeased would be an understatement. None of us have done the yelling bit yet. Mostly because the cameras have been heavily up in our faces during the trip, waiting for us to explode on Julian.

That’s why Scott withheld airing footage with him. They wanted that moment. And so far, no one has given it to him. Which put Scott in quite the pissy fucking mood. I am abnormally chipper because of it. I could twirl around in a dress and hold out my hand, waiting for a bird to come land on my finger. Imagine the Wicked Witch doing that dance number, and that’s pretty much me right now.