Some Kind of Perfect (Calloway Sisters #4.5)

by Krista Ritchie

  No.

  No. I’m not a pushover, and they have to see the threat of disobeying us. They have to think in the back of their mind, my parents will ground me for this. Maybe then, they’ll hesitate enough to stop.

  Lily shakes her head one more time.

  I swallow hard. “I guess we’re in a fight.” Every word is a punch in the gut. I open the door and go outside. Moffy at least waited in the hallway like I asked. He sits by his bedroom door, snapping the elastic of his goggles. As soon as he sees me, he picks himself up.

  “I won’t ever do it again,” Moffy says quickly. “Can I just go swimming? Please?”

  It’s summer, no school for our children, and a bunch of us have to meet up with Garrison and my sister around noon. While we do that, the plan is to bring all the kids to the Cobalt’s for a “painting party” thing. Cobalt Inc.’s subsidiary company, ColorPalace, overproduced their neon line of finger-paints. Great for our kids who can now play with the extras, but shit for Cobalt Inc.

  I tower above his pleading eyes. I don’t want him to feel powerless. Like I can dictate which way he turns and where he goes. I don’t want to be my father. I rebelled against every demand he cast towards me. I hated it. I hated all of it, and I can’t even imagine a world where I do that to Moffy. Where he feels so emotionally trapped that his solution is to shit on everything.

  But I can’t let him live without boundaries. I had that too. I drank in excess at eleven. I stayed out late. I made excuses and lies.

  There has to be a balance between being overbearing and being too lenient.

  I squat down to him. “What’d you do wrong?” I start out.

  He holds my gaze better than adults can, but his voice is meek. “I didn’t knock.”

  “When you do something wrong,” I begin, watching his voice flood with sadness, “you have to be grounded.”

  Moffy blinks back tears. “Like timeout?”

  “Kind of, but it lasts much longer.”

  “Nooo.” His chin quakes again.

  My chest caves. “You can still paint today with your cousins and sister, but for two days, no swimming, no cartoons, no comic books—”

  Moffy bursts into tears. “Mommy!” he wails and tries to race to my bedroom, but I grab onto his shoulders and spin him towards me. “I want Mommy!” He rubs his cheeks with his fists and hiccups.

  I have fifteen arrows in my heart, and I have to keep shooting more right in. “She knows you’re getting grounded, bud.”

  He pushes off me and sobs like I’ve sentenced him to death.

  “It’s only two days, Moffy.”

  And then he cries, “I hate you!”

  My eyes burn. I hate you rings in my ears. “You can hate me for two days, Maximoff, but I’ll love you for a thousand more.” I wipe his tears with my thumb, and he sniffs, calming down for a minute. “It may seem unfair, but we’re your parents—and if there’s anyone in this world you need to listen to and trust, who will always have your back, it’s us. We just need you to respect us when we tell you something. The same way that we respect you when you ask us questions. What do we do?”

  He thinks for a moment. Then he says softly, “You listen to me, and you always answer back.” He rubs his nose with his arm. “What if Luna watches cartoons? Can I watch with her?”

  “No. That’s not how being grounded works.”

  Moffy cries again, “Can I see Mommy?”

  “In a minute.” I stand back up and tell him he can go eat cereal before we leave for his aunt and uncle’s place. He trudges away, still in tears.

  I slip into my bedroom, the mattress empty, and the shower pipes groan in the walls. When I enter the bathroom, Lily steps into the shower. Our eyes meet for a second. Hers are bloodshot like she’s been crying more.

  She hesitates about opening the misted door wider for me or shutting it closed.

  “Are we still fighting?” I ask, approaching with the intent to wrap my arms around Lily and pull her close.

  “I don’t want to,” she says, eyeing my lips, “but I have to.”

  “Love—”

  “You didn’t listen to me,” she notes. “I know I think in different ways, but I didn’t ever want to punish him for that.”

  I can’t take it back. I would’ve still done it, no matter what. “But I did it. So now what?”

  Lily hones in on my abs, but then she tears her gaze off me and yanks the shower door. It sticks on her, and she struggles to shut it while water pours onto her head. Literally, she lets out a groan to pry the thing closed.

  I smile and then push the shower door shut for Lily, closing myself out.

  “Thank you!” she yells over the water. “And we’re still fighting!”

  I realize that.

  * * *

  Connor and I ride up a graffiti-decorated elevator. Mechanical light bulbs strung with metal chain above us. I’ve been here a couple other times, so the metal and concrete style isn’t as jarring as the first. This industrial factory in Philly was converted into premium lofts about a year ago.

  The doorman at the building’s entrance says enough about the cost of this place. It’s not mine. Not Connor’s. This place belongs to my little sister.

  Willow graduated from college, and she had a small garden wedding on May 31st. She left with Garrison to Hawaii right after, and they haven’t been back in Philly for that long. In that short time, they’ve been trying to move into their new loft, but Willow has been worried that cameramen can see inside.

  The window is partially tinted, but my sister doesn’t want to live with the curtains closed for the rest of her life. I don’t want that for her either, and this transition can’t be easy since she’s been in London for four years. Away from the media.

  Away from us.

  She probably forgot what this whole circus is really like.

  So far, no one has posted snapshots of the loft from outside. But it wouldn’t be the first time someone stored a ton and then dumped them all online at once.

  We’re here to help test the visibility of the window from the street. The whole “plan” isn’t going very well at the present moment.

  Connor speaks to a cluster-fuck of a group call. “Listen—”

  “Rose, put your sunglasses back on! Someone will notice you,” Lily whisper-hisses. I almost smile, but then I remember we’re in a fight. My muscles tense up.

  “Stop flailing, Lily,” Rose rebuts.

  Daisy whispers, “Breaker, breaker. The hummingbird and the sparrow are currently hiding behind a bush. Someone is onto us.” I remember that Daisy paired off with Willow, and Lily is only with Rose.

  Before I can even process what they’re saying, the three Calloway sisters start talking over one another.

  And then this. “Hey,” Ryke cuts in, “why the fuck am I in this call?”

  I lean towards Connor’s cell. “Because you were supposed to come with us, bro.” He ditched at the last minute to stay with the kids at the Cobalt estate, painting right now with their grandparents and Poppy. We planned to be back early, but Sullivan stared pitifully up at Ryke and said, “Will you stay with me, Daddy?” She even pouted and added, “Pleaseeeee.”

  My older brother can’t resist his four-year-old.

  “Fuck off.” Ryke hangs up.

  “Avoid paparazzi,” Connor reminds the girls.

  “Thank you, Richard, like we hadn’t realized that was part of the plan from the start.” Rose grumbles, “I’m not wearing the ugliest hat I own for nothing.”

  The elevator comes to a halt on the fifteenth floor. Connor tells Rose, “I’d advise you to speak softer. I know it’s hard for you, but you’re on a city street. Unless you’re lost, then we have a much larger problem.”

  Rose growls. “I hate you.”

  “You love me.” He grins as the elevator opens to a distressed metal door.

  “How do I evict you from this call?” Rose asks because she wouldn’t hang up on Daisy, even if it meant she’d hang
up on him.

  I unlock the door with my set of keys.

  With one hand, Connor yanks it open, the metal screeching as it slides. “You can’t get rid of me, darling.”

  “So you’re like herpes,” she rebuts. I don’t even have time to feel that burn because Connor is quick.

  “More like air. I’m necessary in your life. Not detrimental. And you enjoy fighting against the one person who helps you.”

  I laugh, feeling the heat off that one. I walk further into the loft while they bicker. Boxes are stacked in the large open space and most say Abbeys – kitchen or Abbeys – living room. Connor and I go straight towards the massive window.

  I can practically feel Rose’s glare. “Your ego asphyxiates me.”

  “It stimulates you.”

  They could do this all damn day with each other, and it’d probably end with Connor fucking Rose. I don’t fixate on that.

  I haven’t heard Lily on the line in a while. “Lil, you okay?” I ask into his phone, just as we stop by the window.

  “…I’m not supposed to talk to you.”

  “Who said?”

  “Me.”

  I sigh heavily, my aggravation and frustration constricting my shoulders. This fight can’t last long. Right?

  “We’re on the move again,” Daisy whispers.

  The loft window overlooks a street of eclectic shops and a miniature park. Rose and Lily are supposed to move far left towards the shops while Willow and Daisy are towards the park. I scan them from the fifteenth floor, but most people look like specs in the distance.

  The girls are quiet while they focus on reaching their positions that we mapped out.

  Connor cups his hand around his phone’s speaker. He’s not in a suit today, just a blue shirt and workout shorts, but he looks like a god in any fucking attire. It’s never been about his clothes. His confident, I’m better than you demeanor draws my gaze to him—while also shrinking me. And I’m six-two.

  “What happened with Lily?” he asks me in the calmest, most comforting tone.

  I imagine Rose questioning Lily right now too. Connor and Rose have been there for us from the start. I mean, Christ—the four of us, we lived together first. Because they were trying to help us cope with staying sober while keeping our relationship upright.

  One is hard enough. Both, together, seemed impossible.

  But Lily and I—we made it.

  It doesn’t mean we don’t have bad days, and today just happens to be our first fight in…I don’t know how long.

  Years, probably.

  “Moffy walked in on us,” I explain. “We were beneath the covers, so he didn’t see anything, but I grounded him for not knocking. Lily didn’t want to.” It’s all I need to say. Connor could put a picture together with even less pieces. “I’m not my father. I know I’m not.”

  Moffy doesn’t get how nice I am in comparison.

  My dad would’ve dragged me by the neck into my bedroom, called me a fucking idiot, chewed me out until I pissed my pants, and then slammed the door in my face.

  Connor studies me for a second, understanding why Lily and I are at odds. It has to do with both of us feeling justified in our actions. Both of us being confident and resilient in our stances. We’ve never had that before.

  Then he says, “Even I disagree with Rose on minor issues like the best route to drive our children to school. Though, we settle our arguments with trivia.”

  I laugh. “You’re such a nerd.”

  He smiles, not denying the fact. “I just don’t want you to believe you’re not doing your best. You can’t be me, of course, but your best is somewhere below—but not on the bottom.”

  I feign confusion. “I thought I was your bottom, love.”

  “You’re many things to me.” His smooth tone just melts the tension in the air like a drug.

  I look at my best friend who could give wisdom to a fucking tree if he wanted to, but he wouldn’t. He collects time like the rarest commodity, and to this day, he doesn’t spend it on just anyone or anything. So I say, “I’m lucky you spend so much time on me, aren’t I?”

  “No.” Connor shakes his head. “It’s not luck, Lo.”

  He doesn’t have to say it. I know he won’t spell it out. But I understand.

  It’s his love for me.

  That’s why he chooses me. Maybe that’s why I choose him and Lily and all these other people around me. It’s love.

  That’s what it’s always been.

  Connor takes his hand off the phone’s speakers, and Daisy shouts, “Camera at the ready!”

  “I’m in position,” Lily chimes in. “…a non-sexual position. Like a standing doing nothing kind of position.”

  My smile hurts my face. Then I remember we’re in a fight, and my smile fades again. The girls are pretending to be paparazzi on the street and directing the camera lenses up at the fifteenth floor. At us. We can’t see them.

  I lift up the corner of Connor’s shirt. “Can you see Connor’s nipple?”

  Connor says to me, “If you wanted me undressed, all you had to do was ask, darling.”

  “Will you strip for me?”

  Just like that, he pulls his shirt off his head. Sculpted abs and arms, lean muscle, not bulky because he prefers to wear slim, well-fitted suits. Ryke and I always joke about the day where he accidentally packs too much muscle and rips his tux.

  That day has never happened. Connor seriously knows his body like Michelangelo knew art.

  My phone vibrates in my short’s pocket. I check the group text, sent to Willow, Ryke, and me.

  Lunch this Saturday. You may bring your wives and husband. Children not allowed. This is an adult lunch. – Dad

  We do Sunday luncheons with Lily’s parents about once a month, not every week, but it’s not a surprise that my dad would want all of his kids together on Saturday. It wouldn’t be the first time he asked.

  It’s not even the first time he’s banned the children from attending. His topics of interest range from business to personal life to things that put all of us on edge. And even if the children were allowed, Ryke wouldn’t let Sulli go.

  She sees her grandfather way less than Moffy, but I won’t let Moffy be alone with him for longer than a minute or two. Still, he likes his grandfather, so he’ll be bummed about not going.

  “You bringing your husband to lunch, Willow?” I ask over the phone.

  In the short pause, I can practically feel her smile at the word husband.

  Willow says, “Maybe, I don’t know.”

  It’s about our dad. Jonathan Hale is warming up to Garrison, but Garrison doesn’t like Jonathan. Not ever since our dad criticized his proposal to Willow, all because she was still in college at the time. He sounded like Greg Calloway, overprotective about the entanglement of relationships and future, but maybe it has something to do with Willow being a girl.

  Too soon.

  Too young.

  Too rushed.

  Too eager.

  Jonathan said.

  Garrison called him a gutless fish.

  I was shocked. Ryke was shocked. My dad doesn’t back down. He would verbally attack until someone bled out.

  Jonathan called him a cunt.

  Ryke lost it. I tried to shift things off Garrison, especially because of his past history with his brothers. I couldn’t do much. Everything escalated between my dad and him. Then Garrison just shut down. He avoids conflict at a certain point.

  So he walked out of the lunch and wouldn’t talk about it again. Only to me, he later confessed that he didn’t know what to do. He wants to respect Jonathan because he’s Willow’s dad, but he can’t stand him.

  I had to go into a lengthy explanation about Lily and me. How my dad tried to push a marriage on us for the betterment of our reputation and those around us. So as much as I love Jonathan Hale, he shouldn’t have the power to guilt anyone into anything. Not into a marriage and not out of one.

  I think he’ll come around and s
top antagonizing Garrison. Having a daughter is new for him, and he really shouldn’t be picking out pages from the Greg Calloway handbook.

  “Move around.” Rose’s frosty tone echoes from the speakers. “We’re taking pictures now.”

  I picture Daisy wagging her brows as she suggests, “You can pretend to make-out.”

  “What?” Lily says. “Who?”

  “Connor and Lo,” she clarifies. “We need to see if Garrison and Willow getting it on will be caught on camera.”

  Jesus Christ. “That’s my sister,” I snap. Then I cringe at Connor and give him a look like help me wipe that from my brain.

  “Oops, sorry.” She whispers, “Sorry, Willow.”

  Connor grins at me. “I’ll make it better.”

  I nod. “Pretend make-out with me, love?”

  “Just like we did last night?” he quips.

  “Just like that.”

  Then he grips the hem of my black shirt and lifts my V-neck over my head. I comb strands of my light brown hair back. We’re both worth billions of dollars, but he looks it head-to-toe, inside and out.

  His amusement curves his lips.

  It’s infectious.

  I try hard to fake disappointment. “I remember you doing more to me last night.”

  “You want more, darling?” His face is all humor.

  I touch my heart. “I’m all yours.”

  Connor puts a hand to my chest. With more force than I expected, he shoves me back—my shoulders hit the window with a thump. My own smile matches his. I’m not even a little surprised we’re pretending to mess around.

  We’ve always been too comfortable around one another to give a shit. We might confuse other people, but what other people think about us has never mattered to me. We both know we’re just friends. Our wives know we’re just friends. So we can joke around with one another and still be the same.

  Connor presses his hand against the glass, right beside my jaw. He acts like he’s going to kiss me, and then his lips diverge past my cheek.

  I let out a short, dry laugh. “And Lily calls me a tease.”

  His conceited grin could light the goddamn world. “Can you see anything?” he asks the girls, his phone tight in his fist.

  “I see—is that a hand?” Daisy asks.