Just as Rose finishes her declaration, two teenage girls try to pass the hostess podium, phones in their clutch. They plead for selfies with us, but Garth is telling them no.
I feel bad, but I have to remember that I spent the past two hours taking photographs. I can’t spend my entire life taking them.
“Rose,” a college-aged girl with dark brown hair calls. She squeezes past Garth and the two teenagers. The other bodyguards let her through. She looks winded like she hustled to the café with all her might. “I found the polka-dot tights for Jane, but I couldn’t find any pink glitter hair clips.”
Rose jots a note in her little spiral-bound pad beside her plate. “I’ll make those clips then.” She rips off a bottom piece of paper and hands it to her assistant. “Here’s more of the list, and I’ll need you to run to a craft store if the mall doesn’t have one.”
She reads the list quickly.
Rose eyes her for a short second. “Hope?”
“Yeah?”
“The last item on the list is serious. You can’t skip it.”
Hope skims the list and then relaxes. “I won’t. Thank you, Rose. I’ll have the rest to you soon.” She skirts away.
Rose sips her water and cuts another piece of toast.
Yes, Rose Calloway Cobalt gave her shopping duties to another person. For someone who not only loves to shop but struggles with delegation, I never thought the day would arrive. The fact that she’s thirty-two-weeks pregnant swayed her decision. Plus in Rose’s mind, missing out on a sisterly excursion is comparable to abandoning Daisy, Poppy, and me in a sinking raft.
“What was that last item?” I ask.
“For Hope to take a break and eat lunch. I had to remind her yesterday that I wouldn’t fire someone over a simple mistake. Do I look like a drill sergeant?” She grips her knife, her yellow-green eyes pierced and cold like the rest of her features.
“Uh…” Is this a trick question? “Yes?”
Rose rolls her eyes. “Well, I don’t act it, even if I look it.” This is true. She gives more gifts to her assistants and bodyguards than I remember to give Superhero & Scones employees, and she’s an advocate for vacation time for her staff when they need it.
I just now notice a bowl of chips and dip behind a toy store bag. I put the bag on another chair and dunk a chip into the chunky blue cheese. “The protective circle has chips. I like it.” I munch.
Rose cranes her neck and zones in on my one shopping bag. “Make a list. We can send someone to shop for you.”
“No.” I shake my head. “I’m going to make a second pass. Maybe bring two more bodyguards with me to keep the fans engaged with other things.” This plan actually sounds decent. I dunk two chips at one time.
I miss Lo.
He’d appreciate the chips with me but definitely not the blue cheese dip.
And he’d order tacos. I remember that he’s with Connor, Ryke, Willow, and Garrison and all the kids. They planned to play in the snow and then watch Christmas movies at the Cobalt estate.
Rose’s knife clanks against the plate like she dropped the utensil. I watch her hands rest on her lower abdomen. She blows out a long breath.
My eyes grow. “Are you okay?”
“The little monster won’t stop moving.” She swallows hard, her neck stiff. Then her glare ignites me. “Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?” Blue chees dribbles down my chin and onto my baggy sweater. Shit. I wipe it up with a napkin.
“I’m fine.” She waves like she’s brushing off all the worry in the atmosphere. “Fate might want this baby out a little early, and I can handle whatever comes my way.”
I choke on a chip and pat my chest. “Early like now?”
“No, not now. I’m fine.”
I only believe Rose because I’ve seen her combat contractions. She’d be more rigid than right now, and her collarbone would protrude. “Are you nervous you’ll have another boy?”
This is Rose’s seventh pregnancy and her seventh child, though she technically birthed eight children. One just happens to belong to Ryke and Daisy. I think mentally she might be done after this baby, boy or girl. She’s thirty-five, and she’s told us that she doesn’t want to spend the rest of her thirties birthing babies. Lo said that Connor worries about the strain on Rose’s back, so he’s ready for this to be the last one too.
But if she has a boy, I wonder if she’ll feel like fate is telling her to have an eighth baby.
“No, I’m not nervous,” Rose snaps like I shouldn’t apply that word to her. “If it’s a boy, Connor and I agreed to make a pros and cons list and then go from there.”
I bet fate would weigh a lot on Rose’s side of things, but Rose’s health for Connor just might be the ultimate trump card in determining what happens.
If they have a girl, this all becomes irrelevant anyway.
I dip my napkin in my water glass. Rose gives me a look. Whatever. I rub at the stain on my black sweater. I think I just made the white spot more noticeable. Does it look like jizz?
My cheeks redden. No one thinks Loren Hale’s cum is on your sweater.
I do.
I’m thinking it.
I point at the spot and ask Rose, “What do you think?” Cum or not cum?
“I think you should make a list,” Rose replies with an icy, villainess smile. Then she digs in her Chanel purse and tosses me a stain-removal pen. Very un-villain-like. I love you, Rose. “And you can keep me company.”
It’s tempting. “You could’ve baited me with the stain-removal pen.”
“I’d rather you stayed with me because you want to be with me and not my cleaning products.”
Oh. “I love you both.”
She almost smiles and then rolls her eyes at the way I touch the removal pen to the sweater. “You’re doing that incorrectly. Come here.”
I stand up and go to Rose’s side. She rises with me and efficiently scrubs at the stain, able to defeat it in a few seconds.
I have a better view of the mall’s second floor and notice a sign beside a pet store. Adopt Today! Last call shelter dogs & cats looking for loving homes! Kittens are in the window front while dogs stay confined in a little gated area outside the store, two employees in Pet Paradise shirts.
Rose has already tucked the stain-removal pen in her purse, and now she’s smiling at her phone.
Connor texted her, I infer, and then a puppy steals all my attention. He—I think he’s a he—walk-hops in a circle inside the gate, his big floppy ears flapping with his goofy stride. Then he literally face-plants on the hard floor.
I wince, but the little pup picks himself up, shakes his head, and continues his happy walk-hop around all the other dogs. Not a care in the world.
The puppy tugs all the strings connected to my heart. Fans suddenly start gasping, their phones spinning to the right. That’s when Daisy appears on the other side of the plants. She chucks her bags onto our pile and hikes over the plants to our side.
“Hey, big sis,” she says to me since Rose is engrossed in her phone.
“What does last call mean?” I ask Daisy.
She follows my gaze to Pet Paradise. “Ohh,” she says sadly. “Whoever isn’t adopted might be put down this week or even as soon as tomorrow.”
“What?” My face falls. I’m not a pet person, which I know isn’t an excuse, but I never knew this actually happens.
I’ve never wanted an animal as much as I want this puppy.
“What are you staring at…?” Rose trails off and then connects all the dots really fast. She must spot desire shining through my eyes. She does have six children, so I’m sure she sees this look often. “Lily—”
“I’ll be right back.” I rush out of the café, Garth following behind me. It isn’t until I reach the fence that I realize Rose and Daisy have left Roasted Beans too and joined me.
The two Pet Paradise employees perk up at our arrival. The younger girl looks like she might faint. She has her hands to
her mouth and freezes in place.
The older girl greets us, “Do you want to hold a puppy?”
Daisy gasps with a big smile. “You read my mind.”
The frozen employee unthaws at Daisy’s bright demeanor, her hands dropping to her side to reveal a giddy smile of her own. “Hi.” She waves at Daisy.
“Hey there.” Daisy asks, “Which one needs hugs?”
With her phone to her ear, Rose stands in front of the kitten window. Felines curled in little glass cubicles, some stretching awake.
While the younger employee lets Daisy into the golden retriever gate, I ask the older employee about the floppy-eared puppy. “Can I see this one?”
Crowds have congested the entire Pet Paradise area, and some fans even ask, “Are you looking for a pet?”
Yes. Yes, I am.
The employee lets the floppy-eared dog out of the gate, slipping a loose leash around his neck. “This little guy is a ten-month-old basset hound.” She pats his belly.
I bend down, and the puppy immediately licks my elbow and cheek.
I crumble with love.
“He only has today left to be adopted. The shelter is overcrowded this year, so all these animals need good homes.”
Poppy slips through the crowds, a shopping bag hooked on her arm. “What’s going on?”
“Lily wants a dog, and I’m giving free hugs.” Daisy smiles, petting all the golden retrievers while they jump on her lap.
Poppy’s maternal guidance bears down on me like a raincloud. “Lily, you can’t get a dog. You have a two-month-old at home.”
“So?” Daisy and I say in unison. She gives me a nod like we’re part of the same club. Maybe the Dog Lovers United. I’ve never been a part of this club before, but suddenly, it feels like the right one to join.
“I found the fierce one,” Rose says into her phone. In a glass cubicle, a black kitten with big yellow eyes stares fixatedly at Rose. Then she slinks closer and paws the glass right in front of Rose’s face. Rose snorts at the cat and then speaks to her phone. “If we do this, you have to remind her not to bring home strays.”
Jane.
She tries to corral stray kittens in the street and lure them to her house. Connor calls it inventive, but overall, Rose and Connor always tell her no to letting them inside. Most of the cats have flees and are extremely feral.
Think Sadie times a thousand.
Connor must say something else, and Rose agrees in French and then shuts off her phone. She says to the kitten, “You can eat a million birds, just not the bird. If you have any disagreements, tell me now.”
The kitten meows and rubs her cheek against the glass like scratch me. For a moment, I think: Rose Calloway Cobalt can communicate with felines.
Proof! Proof!
Rose is Catwoman to Connor’s Batman.
This is a historic moment. Let me digest.
“What do you mean by bird?” Poppy asks, the eldest of us. She also has no pets, but I think she’s mostly concerned about the hoopla behind us and all the craziness we let into our lives.
“Ben has wanted a bird.” Rose grips the door handle of Pet Paradise but pauses at Poppy’s confusion. “What?”
“You’re about to buy a bird and a cat right now?”
It’s an impulsive buy for Rose, but she’s done way more impulsive things in our lives. “I called Connor, we agreed on the purchase. I’d rather have a motherfucking bird than a snake.”
“Who asked for a snake?” Daisy wonders.
“Who do you think?”
“Eliot,” we all say.
“And he’s not getting it.” Rose yanks the door open. “I’ll meet you back here in a second.”
“Wait,” I call out before she disappears inside the store. “Sisterly advice?”
Those magic words lift up her lips. She sees me pet the basset hound. I know my four kids will love him as much as me.
“You can handle a dog,” Rose tells me so strongly. “The better question is if your annoying husband can.”
“Ooooh!” the crowds shout at Rose’s insult.
Rose only wears satisfaction as she enters the store.
My brows crinkle. Lo. I definitely have to ask him before I make this decision. I hurriedly take out my phone, snap a picture of the basset hound, and text Lo.
Puppy????????
Daisy steps out of the gate and says to Poppy and me, “I think I’m going to stick around and make sure all these dogs get adopted today. I might be able to attract more people over here.” Might is an understatement.
There are tons of people around Pet Paradise because we’re here. My little sister has a big heart that might not be noticed by all, but I feel Daisy’s kindness every time we’re together.
My phone vibrates.
:) – Lo
A smiley face! I’ll take it.
* * *
“What the fuck, Lil?” Lo whispers heatedly, our bodies partially turned away from Luna, Moffy, and Xander across the living room. They play with the basset hound by the sofa, the dog licking their faces when they attack-hug him.
Cuteness levels in the Hale household just shot through the roof.
Which is why it’s so hard to surrender to Lo’s anger. “You texted me a smiley face. I thought that was a yes!”
Moffy glances over at us, and we both quickly angle more towards the kitchen door. Lo whispers back, “How was I supposed to know you were asking to get a goddamn dog? We”—he gestures from his chest to my chest—“don’t do animals. That’s not the Lo and Lily thing.”
“Lily and Lo thing,” I correct in a small voice.
He tilts his head and then cups my cheeks. “Lily Hale, we have no clue how to take care of a dog.”
“We didn’t know how to take care of a baby and now we have four,” I say proudly. “Didn’t just yesterday, you said, ‘you and me’”—I gesture from his chest to my chest—“‘we can do anything.’ Huh, huh?” I poke his abs.
He pinches my cheek.
I squint.
He almost smiles, but his sharp glare shadows the sliver of one. “You realize I said we can do anything in relation to fixing the toaster.”
“And that was a proud moment. We didn’t have to buy a new one, and we were able to save ourselves from cold Pop-Tarts.”
“That was a pretty great moment,” Lo says in a way that I hold my breath for the punch line. “It was so great I realize we should break the toaster every fucking day and fix it.” He mockingly opens the kitchen door for me. “You want to start, love?”
I realize I should’ve told him more clearly. “I’m sorry.” Guilt knots my stomach. “I’m really sorry, Lo. I should’ve actually called you like Rose called Connor. I fucked up.”
“No,” he immediately says. “It’s okay.” The guilt in my face reflects on his, and he wraps his arms around my shoulders and draws me to his chest.
I hold onto his waist. “I know a dog is an everyday chore, but it’s not unfeeling. It gives as much love as it receives.” His eyes sink downwards, so I add the truth, “I’ll find a new owner for the dog today. Rose will help.” She always does. “It’ll be like he was never here.”
Lo sets his chin on my head, and he watches our children chase the basset hound around the couch. He face-plants into the floorboards, and they all help him up and then he hop-skips after them. When he nears Kinney’s little rocker, she squeals in delight.
I look up at Lo.
He’s smiling.
Not a shadow of one. Not a partial one. A clear, whole smile.
His eyes drop to mine, and his acceptance washes me with light. “We know nothing about dogs,” he reminds me.
“Daisy already gave me some pointers, and she’s bringing over puppy food and some of Coconut’s old things tonight.”
Lo smiles again when the basset hound collapses on the rug, panting with his tongue hung out of his mouth. Luna rubs his belly, teary-eyed with happiness. Pleasing children is really easy. I gave Xander a lime
popsicle yesterday, and he acted like I conjured a rainbow out of the sky, just for him.
“What a dork,” Lo says about the dog. “Looks like he’s going to fit right in with all of us.”
I beam. “Are you sure?”
He kisses my cheek, his arms still around me, mine still around him. “I’m sure, Lily.”
Moffy springs up from the ground, out of breath from laughing, but he darts over to us. “We came up with his name!”
We angle towards our nine-year-old son. “Let’s hear it,” Lo says.
Moffy grins. “Gotham.”
You should see Lo’s face. He looks dismayed and perturbed. Sometimes I think Moffy gravitates towards DC comics just to see Lo’s what-is-the-world-coming-to expression that pops up solely for moments like these.
Moffy is already laughing again.
“This better be your biggest joke all year,” Lo says.
“No, really, that’s his name.” He calls out over his shoulder, “Right, Luna?”
Luna nods rapidly. “Gotham!” She giggles when he licks her cheek.
“Jesus Christ,” Lo says beneath his breath.
“It’s a great name, Moffy,” I tell him.
“No it’s not,” Lo says flatly.
“Lo,” I whisper.
Lo turns to me. “I’m not calling our dog Gotham.” He looks personally offended by this, and as soon as Moffy can see, his smile starts fading.
Our son starts, “We can change it—”
“No!” I shout. “You chose it. Right, Lo?” I lower my voice so only he can hear. “It doesn’t mean anything. Moffy just loves Batman.”
Lo tries to accept this. Then he says to Moffy, “If you want to call him Gotham, you can call him Gotham.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, but don’t expect me to call him that.”
Moffy begins smiling again. “What will you call him then?”
“Ham,” Lo says in all seriousness.
Moffy bursts out laughing and keeps nodding like that’s perfect.
“Ham?” My brows crinkle up at Lo. “I don’t think that’s an upgrade.”
Lo hugs me closer to his chest. “Oh it’s a fucking upgrade.”
In his Marvel-loving mind, I’m sure it is.
Some Kind of Perfect (Calloway Sisters #4.5) Page 44