Some Kind of Perfect (Calloway Sisters #4.5)

by Krista Ritchie

  “Are you still at the fucking teacups?” He adds something else, but his voice is muffled. He must be speaking to Lily and his brother.

  “Yeah,” I say, “we’re still here.”

  “I’m not that fucking far away.”

  I remember how he wanted to spend time with his brother—after Lo had that huge talk with Moffy. Maybe it won’t matter that much. Ryke said that Lo is in a good place mentally, and Lo told us bits and pieces about the conversation. Towards the end of the trip, we’re all going to decide what to do about sharing more information with the kids.

  I can barely even process pros and cons and what it all means right now.

  “Daisy?”

  “What?”

  “I asked what you fucking ate this morning.”

  I think back. I left the park with my sisters for breakfast while the guys took care of the kids. Rose challenged me to eat something new. My lips part in realization. “Uh-oh.”

  Shrimp omelet.

  “Food poisoning?” Ryke asks now.

  “I think…so.” I shut my eyes. Don’t puke.

  “Daddy!” Winona shouts but stays upside-down.

  I spin around the same exact time that his hands clasp my face. Ryke absorbs my state of being which is sickly sick sick.

  “Fuck, Dais.” He looks over his shoulder and waves to Price like we’re fucking leaving.

  And then it just all comes up.

  I tear out of his arms and puke into the closest bush. Cameras flash. Vomit is my new accessory. Yee-haw.

  “Ew, Mommy.” Winona wears a face like I’m stinky and deathly ill all at once. Then I puke again, and she slowly starts crying. “Mommy?” Afraid. She’s really afraid.

  It twists my stomach.

  Ryke tries to approach me, and I push him away. “Nona,” I tell him.

  Ryke curses beneath his breath, but he listens and crouches to our daughter. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. He calms down Winona by hugging her to his chest, and then his dark eyes pin to mine.

  “Bed, Calloway.”

  I can’t even wag my brows and say, you want to sleep with me? I just nod thankfully. Bed.

  I’d like that.

  < 58 >

  July 2027

  Disneyland

  California

  RYKE MEADOWS

  I lie on a lounge chair at a hotel pool, phone to my ear. “Text me if you feel good enough to fucking eat something. I can bring up whatever you want.”

  Daisy has been in bed for four hours. I hate that she fucking feels like this. “Winona said she wants a big stinking smelly sandwich.”

  My lips tic up. I imagine Winona snuggling against Daisy. They’ve been together all day. “Yeah? Ask her where I’m supposed to find that fucking sandwich.”

  “The stinky smelly place!” Winona shouts over the phone.

  “I’ll get the fuck on that then.” I glance at my brother, who’s on a lounge chair next to me. Lo mouths, everything good? He was worried about Dais too.

  I nod at him.

  “Take pictures and videos?” Daisy asks, hoping I will.

  “I already took a fucking ton of Sulli diving, so I’ll send those to you.” The hotel has two pools, and they let us rent the smaller one for the day. It’s the only place our kids can relax (besides the rooms) without being hounded by people they don’t know—or even just recorded on someone else’s phone.

  Daisy and I say short see you laters. I scroll through my phone and start sending her some videos. Ten minutes pass and I set my phone aside, lower my Ray Bans. Sun beating down on my bare chest. My worn paperback open and splayed on my leg.

  Lo seems content, his dark sunglasses on and listening to music in his earbuds. If I strain, I can distinguish the heavy bass and pulsating electronics. Sweat glistens on his abs, and he brings one of his fucking knees up. I find myself scrutinizing him a second longer.

  I fucking worry about my little brother, but he doesn’t always need my worry. That fact won’t change how much I care.

  “I’ve got an idea,” eight-year-old Eliot Cobalt whispers to Tom, thinking we can’t fucking hear. They dragged a lounge chair towards the edge of the pool, but it’s closest to Lo and me.

  Their parents are far across from us, hidden inside a shaded cabana. Lily joined Rose and Connor with the youngest girls: Kinney and Audrey.

  Truth is, Lo and I stay under the sun just to keep an eye on the rest of the fucking kids. We don’t trust some of them to be on their own.

  My head tilts to Lo at the sound of I’ve got an idea. His head tilts right to me, and he pulls out one of his earbuds, listening with me.

  “What?” Tom asks his brother.

  Maybe they think we’re sleeping. We’ve both been pretty fucking motionless on the lounge chairs.

  “Swim to the deep-end,” Eliot continues his plan. “Then pretend to drown. Don’t actually drown, but stay beneath the water so it looks it.”

  What the fuck.

  Lo and I sit up some.

  Skinny little kids, Eliot has straighter brown hair, but not as golden-brown as Tom’s and not as lazily slumped on the fucking lounge chair. Eliot sits straight, his feet skimming the pool.

  “If you do that, he’ll jump in to save you.” Eliot briefly glances at the lifeguard, a teenage boy in red swim trunks. “Then keep your eyes closed and pretend like you’re dead. He’ll use mouth-to-mouth for CPR…and go for the kiss.”

  “Dude,” Tom counters, “you just described Sandlot.”

  Eliot extends an arm. “And it worked.”

  Tom mulls this over, eyeing the lifeguard, and then he whispers, “Okay, I’m in.”

  Fucking A. Their chairs creak, and I immediately start standing to physically keep them from pretending to drown.

  My brother is faster with his words. “You two, sit down.”

  Eliot and Tom swing their heads to us, not startled by being caught, but they both look seconds from jumping into the water. “We were just about to swim,” Eliot says innocently.

  It’s in his eyes. The twinkle of deception. I fucking see it. My brother sees it. Everyone sees it.

  “Bullshit,” I say, still standing.

  They laugh at my swear word and then they sit their asses down. I do one further and drag their lounge chair closer to ours. Their laughs morph into groans of dejection.

  “Uncle Ryke,” they complain.

  My brother straddles his chair and lifts his sunglasses to his head. Their focus veers to him while I return to my seat.

  “First of all, you should be afraid of me.” Lo points to his chest.

  Eliot and Tom smile like they’re afraid of no one.

  Lo holds up two fingers. “Second of all, you’re not fake-drowning to get the attention of someone.”

  Tom takes a peek at the lifeguard stand. “What if he’s really cute?”

  We’re not suddenly surprised that Tom is attracted to boys and not girls. Rose and Connor cultivated this safe space for their children. Inclusive of just about everything and fucking anything. So when Tom started feeling an attraction towards guys, he didn’t make a speech. He didn’t worry his parents would disown him or fucking hate him or try to convince him to love someone he can’t.

  After a while, with casual, everyday mentions of crushing on a boy at school, we all just knew he liked guys.

  And it never fucking changed a thing.

  Lo squints at the lifeguard and grimaces. “Thirdly.” Lo raises three fingers at Tom. “He’s too goddamn old for you.”

  “You owe me a dollar,” Eliot says since Lo has been put on swear jar this week by Lily. He’s said “goddamn” more times at Disneyland than he has in five months.

  Lo glares at me like it’s completely unfair. I can swear as much as I want, and no one gives a shit.

  I tell him the consequences. “You want a nine-year-old girl who has lunch detention all week for saying fucking fuck?” That’s Sulli.

  Lo winces. “Yeah, no.”

&
nbsp; The boys whisper quietly, their foreheads nearly pressed together.

  “Hey,” I shout and then kick their chair, jolting them awake.

  Tom crosses his arms. “You and Aunt Daisy have an age-gap.”

  Fucking really?

  Lo is quick to respond. “He didn’t start crushing on Daisy when he was seven.” Cobalt kids believe they’re adults, so they literally scoff at Lo.

  Then Tom and Eliot cup their hands to each other, whispering again. This time more blatantly in front of us.

  “Fourthly,” Lo continues on and points right at Tom.

  They stop whispering.

  “If I see you at the deep-end and you’re under the water for longer than ten seconds, Uncle Ryke is going to jump in, save you and give you CPR. Not the cute little lifeguard, so think about that before you start recreating a scene from Sandlot.”

  Eliot drums his lips in thought. “At what age would Tom be allowed to do it?”

  “When I’m dead and buried.” Lo pulls his sunglasses down. “And if you start plotting my death, remember I have friends in hell.”

  Eliot and Tom smile. They’ve always liked Lo.

  “No fake-fucking-drowning, okay?” I ensure that they understand the important part.

  “I won’t, Uncle Ryke,” Tom says, sincere enough.

  Eliot looks between me and my brother. “Just so you know, you could be stopping an epic, whirlwind romance like Uncle Ryke and Aunt Daisy’s.”

  Lo rests his hands behind his head, sunbathing. “My heart is crying.”

  I lean back, my lips curving upwards as I see our lives, our fucking memories. These kids have no clue just how much Lo didn’t want me with Daisy. And how fucking much he truly loves us together now.

  Eliot and Tom spring up and race towards the mushroom waterfall where Luna has been standing for about twenty minutes.

  “Dad.” Sulli collapses on the empty chair beside me, soaking wet. Her drenched hair hangs over her black one-piece bathing suit. “Can you time Moffy and me? We want to race.” She rests her chin on her knee and tugs at her ankle bracelets.

  “Sure.” I set my book aside and sit towards my young daughter. The previous talk of crushes fucking flares in my head. I’m trying to prepare for that day with Sulli.

  Lily once asked me why I didn’t like thinking about Sulli dating.

  She’s nine, and I want to stay in the moment for as long as fucking possible. I still don’t want her to grow up fast.

  For a while, Lily and I talked about our girls and what sex means for them in this fucking world. She told me, “I sexualize men. You can’t just be afraid of men that sexualize women when I do practically the same thing, and I’m a woman.”

  I told Lily the honest fucking truth. “You can’t physically overpower a fucking man the way that a man can overpower you.”

  It doesn’t matter who’s thinking about sex. We all are.

  It matters who’s in a position of dominance. Who has the chance to abuse that—and it’s mostly men. Bad fucking men. Rose never gave pepper spray to Lo, Connor, and me. Because she didn’t have to. Women are the ones who walk alone in fear at night.

  “Hey, Sul?” I say. “What do you think about the lifeguard?”

  Sulli reroutes her attention and blocks out the sun with her hand. “He’s okay.”

  I rake my fingers through my hair. “Yeah?”

  “He’s alert, I guess.” She pushes my shoulder as she stands. “Don’t worry, Dad. Moffy and I can watch out for the little kids. We’d beat the lifeguard to them anyway.”

  I know she fucking would.

  I stand and walk with her to the pool ladder. She didn’t understand my question, but that’s the fucking point. She’s nine. She’s young. She’s unconcerned about that.

  I take the moment for what it is.

  Sulli hops into the pool, and when her smile grows, causing mine to appear, I just fucking think, swimming is her true love.

  [ 59 ]

  July 2027

  Disneyland

  California

  CONNOR COBALT

  The six of us—Lo, Lily, Ryke, Daisy, Rose, and me—sit around an iron table on my suite’s patio. The sun just now begins to set. Inside, most of our children are tucked in bed, fast asleep after a weeklong tiring vacation.

  And by tiring, I mean for everyone else. I’m nowhere near exhausted.

  I slowly sip my red wine, my hand on Rose’s thigh. Sitting beside me, she takes measured gulps from her own glass. My lips rise to Rose. She sears me with a torrid glare that burns me inside. I grin wider, yearning to go home so I can fuck my wife.

  “Focus, Richard,” she says, voice like frost.

  We’re in the middle of a conversation about our oldest children, and the discussion only halted because Daisy remembered she bought churros for Lily and Lo. She’s felt better the past two days after a bout of food poisoning. Daisy left and brought them the dessert about two minutes ago.

  Now Lo embraces his wife on his lap, arms around Lily, seated on the same iron chair while they dig into the box of churros.

  Daisy and Ryke unsurprisingly ditch the many available chairs for the patio railing. Close enough to the table that Daisy reaches forward and sets down a can of Fizz Life, all while still balancing on the iron rail. Ryke keeps a hand on her knee, just in case she careens backwards.

  My gaze strokes Rose’s caustic, piercing eyes. “You’ve forgotten that I can multitask better than the above-average individual.”

  She gathers her glossy hair on her neck. “Maybe I just believe you’re average.”

  “Then you wouldn’t be as intelligent as I believe you to be.”

  Rose tries hard not to smile, our back-and-forth rousing us, but she remembers the severity of our previous conversation and abruptly tears her gaze off me. I grin into my wine, and she snaps her fingers at her sisters and their husbands.

  “We have to make a decision before nightfall.”

  The sky is orange, the sun lowering quickly.

  “Christ, Queen Rose.” Lo glares. “Wait until I’ve eaten my churro. Just put down your broomstick and cast spells at your husband.”

  Rose narrows her eyes. “Choke and die.”

  Lo points his churro at Rose. “You’re wasting your spells. I’m already dead.”

  Lily nearly chokes on her dessert.

  Lo’s face falls, his humor trampled immediately. “Lil?” He pats her back.

  She swallows, and Rose and Daisy push their glasses of water to their sister. Lily takes a big gulp and says to Lo, “You’re not dead. I thought we agreed that you just went to hell and now you’re back.”

  I hear Ryke mutter, “So fucking weird.” He’s smiling with Daisy.

  “I’m not dead, love. I promise.” Lo holds his wife tight in his arms.

  I see the sunset as passage of time, and the longer we skirt around the issues, the more time we lose. Rose is right, so I resurface the topic too.

  “Moffy, Jane, and Charlie will be in middle school,” I remind everyone, their bodies relatively at ease. I attribute it to my easy-tempered tone. The way I speak. The way I act as though whatever may happen, we will succeed. “We let them know as much about our histories as the general public. They deserve the answers from us, not strangers, not peers or school faculty.”

  Rose and I wanted to tell the children sooner than this, and what happened with Lo and Moffy could’ve been different. I’m not a fortuneteller. I can’t predict whether the outcome would’ve been better, but I know if we don’t begin to open up now—as their curiosities rise—we’ll lose the chance.

  Lily inspects her churro, thinking.

  Lo swishes his ice water, jaw sharpened.

  Daisy and Ryke stare between the sunset and us.

  Rose rests her hand on top of mine—the one I keep on her thigh. As though to say we’re together in this battle, Richard. Undoubtedly, we are. I lace our fingers, and she tells them, “If they feel like we’re hiding from them, then they’l
l begin to hide from us.”

  Lo shifts in his chair, edged. “They’re allowed to have privacy, even from us.”

  Rose scowls. “I’m not talking about knowing everything. I don’t need to hear whether or not they ate lunch with so-and-so and what’s-his-fucking-face—I just need them to trust us. Say a cameraman harasses them, would you rather them tell us or keep it a secret?”

  Ryke shakes his head. “I don’t fucking see how one equates to the other. So we don’t show the kids We Are Calloway, they could still tell us that a cameraman harassed them.” He outstretches his arm like come on.

  He’s not right. He’s not wrong either. It just depends on certain variables and the child in question. “Some of them will feel like we didn’t share with them, so they won’t feel as forthcoming to share with us.”

  “Which ones?” Lo asks, his shoulders more strict because he knows one of his children is in this mix.

  “For right now, Maximoff and Charlie, but if we tell Moffy, we have to tell Jane.” He’d explain to her everything, and we’d rather just tell Jane ourselves.

  We allow the children to watch their segments of We Are Calloway. They’ve never seen the episodes where Lily speaks about sex addiction or where Ryke, Lo, Daisy, and I talk about the Paris riot. My sex tapes with Rose are also discussed, but that particular in-depth episode focuses on consent. I’d rather them hear this than read an internet post about the sex tapes concentrating on Rose’s body and the size of my cock.

  They know nothing about our turbulent histories with the media.

  I want to open their minds wider. I want to illuminate the world in vast, bright colors, but Rose and I can’t do that without a unanimous decision. Our children are too close to each other, and what one may know, they may share and spread.

  We’ve been at a standstill for years, but Moffy’s acknowledgment of Lily’s sex addiction has changed everything.

  Ryke scratches his unshaven jaw. “There are some fucking things kids just shouldn’t know.” He lets out a long animalistic groan, knowing that we’ve already publicized intimate portions of our lives. We shouldn’t forbid our children from viewing what strangers will.