Addicted After All

by Krista Ritchie

  Worry infiltrates my defenses. “I’m not attracted to your—”

  “I know you aren’t, Lil. You don’t have to keep reminding me.”

  It’s not porn. It’s okay. That’s what I need to tell myself.

  I check another headline. Ryke Defends Lily Calloway’s Honor at Her Little Sister’s Birthday.

  I hate that one. Because it’s all the truth. But it seems so wrong on the outside.

  VIDEO: Loren Hale & Connor Cobalt Kiss in Mexico!

  I perk up. Should I? My finger hovers over the link to the article.

  “Lily,” Lo warns.

  “Lo,” I say back.

  “You have that look.”

  I blink. “The unsatisfied look?”

  “No, the one that says you’re about to do something bad.”

  I shake my head. “Nope. No. Not going to…” I lick my dry lips. But it’s so tempting. I haven’t even read fan’s comments about the kiss because I’ve been avoiding the video clips for so long. Lo suddenly steals my phone…or rather his phone.

  “How’d you get over here so fast?” I ask. My mouth falls and my eyes widen. “Your superpower kicked in.”

  His forehead wrinkles as he stares at the phone screen in concentration. And then his eyes flit to mine. “When you imagine me kissing Connor, how long is it?” he asks.

  “Thirty seconds,” I say, feeling my cheeks heat, which shows my lie too easily. “Okay, it’s actually more like a minute…and there may be some tongue involved.”

  Lo groans. “Lil.”

  “I have an overactive imagination. It’s not my fault. It’s my dirty brain’s fault.”

  He sighs, presses his phone’s screen and then turns it to me. Oh my God. He hit play. I am watching the video. I am watching him…

  I squint. “This is blurry.”

  “We were in a dark nightclub. They’re all blurry.”

  It’s not exactly brief, but it’s not epically long either. Connor and Lo’s lips lock, and then I have to squint to make out the rest. I can barely even see their faces. But I do spot a pair of hands—on Lo’s neck. Connor obviously guided him so it was more than just kissing a wall, but it’s too quick to really obsess over. And it’s all grainy.

  My shoulders drop. But it’s okay, I think. Maybe it’s even better than okay.

  “Did I destroy your fantasy?”

  I nod. “It’s ruined.”

  “Good,” he says, squatting down in front of me. My nerves light up just staring into those entrancing amber eyes. “How’s this reality?”

  I smile wide. “Much, much better,” I realize.

  { 23 }

  LILY CALLOWAY

  “Hale Co. is a multi-billion dollar empire,” Daniel Perth repeats for the second time as we ride the glass elevator to the seventy-fifth floor. “If you think you’re being brought in here for shits and giggles, think again.”

  He sounds so much like Lo’s dad that I honestly wonder if Jonathan Hale hires people with his personality or if his employees just pick up the lingo after a while. When Daisy and I arrived in the lobby five minutes ago, Daniel introduced himself as one of the fourteen board members. He’s in his late-thirties; has a prominent nose, fluffy brown hair and a very expensive suit. And he is not about the bullshit.

  He’s told us that three times already.

  “You’re both about to meet the rest of the board. Handshakes and lunch. Easy.”

  Tomorrow they’re meeting with Ryke and Lo. They wanted to split us up in pairs so they’d have a better indication of how we would act on our own. So far, so good.

  I nervously wipe my sweaty palms on my khaki pants, my baby bump visible underneath my silk top. Daisy towers beside me in high-waisted navy shorts and a white blouse, sans bra. She had her yellow cast cut off in March, so her wrist is decorated in gold bangles.

  She’s all stylish, like she’s ready to walk the runway, and I feel matronly and ready to sink on a couch and take a luxurious nap. But I’m here on a mission: ensure Loren and Ryke are not chosen as the new CEO. They’ve both spent years dodging this life, and there’s no reason they have to fall back into it now.

  I can tell Daisy is going to be tough competition, but I have to do better than her too. She just turned nineteen, and she’s already worked most of her life. The corporate world is not calling her. Nope. I won’t let it. Big sister priorities intact, I am ready to impress.

  Although…I have never impressed anyone. My M.O. is to stand by the wall and blend into the paint.

  This’ll be a challenge.

  Daniel fixes his tie. “We have the final say-so in which one of you becomes the CEO, and we’re not going to pass the title over lightly. Whoever we choose will be the face of the company.” His eyes fall to me. “And it’s going to take a lot of convincing if you want to be that person.”

  A sex addict as the face of a baby company.

  I can see why this may be a little problematic, but I have to put my best foot forward.

  “She’s going to do great,” Daisy says with a bright smile. She slings her arm around my shoulders.

  Daniel’s eyes finally migrate to her, and they intensify in a different way. My sisterly guards rise about a hundred feet. No. No. No.

  “You’re charming,” he says like he’s filing the note in the “positives” category. Jonathan said the men thought as much about Daisy.

  The ends of her blonde hair are dyed a muted orange, like the sunset, and she styled her locks so they cover the scar on her cheek. “You’re upfront,” she tells him.

  “Honey,” he says, “all fourteen of us aren’t going to beat around any bush. Jonathan likes it that way.” His gaze descends down her long, long legs. “If you were ten years older, you’d be perfect.”

  “Story of my life,” Daisy mutters under her breath.

  I wish I was taller. Even though I stand between them, they can easily have a conversation over my head. She’s wearing high heels. He’s past six-feet. And I’m only five-five and a little bit extra. Ryke would not appreciate Daniel’s lingering gaze, and now my friend instincts take over.

  I cough into my hand, disrupting his staring.

  “Yes?” he asks me.

  “I’d like it if you stopped ogling my sister.”

  “She and you better get used to it,” Daniel says. “You’re both going to be ‘ogled’ from here on out.” He even uses air quotes, and his eyes drift to my belly. “And don’t be surprised if some of the women fawn over you. You’re not only our target audience, but you’re carrying Jonathan’s grandson. They’re all excited.”

  I flinch in shock that these women would be excited to meet me. “That’s a strong adjective,” I say softly.

  “It’s a correct one,” he tells me. “Most everyone loves Jonathan, and if we could repair his image, we all would. But it’s too late for that.”

  The elevator suddenly pings. We’re here. The seventy-fifth floor.

  When the doors slide open, we see four women, the rest men, holding champagne flutes, servers wandering around. They all turn and stare right at us. Their expressions are severe, no-nonsense, poised and confident. They size us up immediately.

  Daniel watches our stunned reactions and says, “Welcome to Hale Co.”

  * * *

  Lunch begins, and I almost instantaneously lose my sister in this meet-and-greet. The high tables are lined with small sandwiches and tapas. I pinch the stem of a wine glass, filled with chilled water, and linger by a table in the corner, away from the limelight.

  It’s safe here. I chew slowly, using food as an excuse not to talk too much. I just nod a lot. All four women have flocked me, and they ask me about baby things, which Hale Co. product I like the best. Easy stuff, but I suspect they’re mentally jotting notes about my “personable” skills.

  “I like the rocking chairs,” I say between bites of cucumber sandwich. The women stare at me like a mouse has spoken. I take a large gulp of water. I secretly want to raise my hand and say, in
trovert in the building! But that’s not going to help me.

  They want someone like Daisy.

  The men seriously love her. She already learned the art of schmoozing from her modeling career. Seven middle-aged men surround my little sister across the spacious conference room, floor-length windows overlooking Philadelphia.

  “If we have a press conference, how would you handle personal questions?” the oldest woman asks me, redirecting my attention. She wears a conservative blue dress, has short blonde hair and an intimidating scowl. Irene, she said her name was.

  “I’d answer them to the best of my ability,” I say, tucking a piece of my hair behind my ear.

  “Don’t do that,” Rachel tells me, a five-foot brunette woman. “The press will think you’re uncomfortable.”

  I am uncomfortable.

  “She is uncomfortable,” Irene points out.

  Shit. “It’s just pregnancy stuff. I’m not one-hundred percent.” I almost want to touch my belly and thank Maximoff for the escape.

  Irene doesn’t buy it. “So if I asked you how Loren is, what would you tell me?”

  “He’s great,” I say, my cheeks heating.

  “Do you always turn this red?” Rachel asks.

  I nod, eating slowly. After a swallow, everyone still looks at me for an answer. “It’s uh, a thing.” Oh my God. I need someone to bail me out of this. I search the room, and I stop myself, realizing I’m looking for Lo.

  “A thing?” another woman says. I can’t remember her name.

  “Did you really graduate from Princeton?” Rachel questions.

  I nod.

  “Her GPA was appalling,” Irene mentions, “which is why no one should be that impressed.”

  Jeez. Anger pumps out of my chest. I spent years busting by butt for that diploma. Sure, I had a lot of help, but I still worked for it. “I earned that degree,” I say. “I passed all of my classes and studied for every exam. I may not have been the smartest person in the room, but I at least tried and succeeded.”

  Irene stares at me for a long moment, and I am about to shrink underneath her penetrating gray stare. And then her lips curve. In a smile. “We can work with that.”

  I did kind of sound like Rose a little bit right there, sticking up for myself. I internally pat myself on the back. Good job, Lily.

  Rachel asks me another question, but I’m distracted by the men’s laughter. Daisy gesticulates with her hands like she’s telling a hilarious story, and they’re all eating it up. One even places his palm on her shoulder. It falls to her back.

  And then lower, sliding down to the spot above her ass.

  No. No.

  “Excuse me,” I mutter, on a new mission. Protect my little sister. I don’t hear anything that Irene, Rachel, or the other two women say. I march over to Daisy, my pulse racing. It doesn’t help that Maximoff decides now of all times to kick me in the ribs.

  Great. Just great.

  Daisy slyly tries to step out of the handsy guy’s space, but he shifts with her. She bobs her head at him and the others like she’s enthralled with the conversation. I notice that the handsy one has horn-rimmed glasses. After I binge-watched Heroes, I trust no one who wears those particular glasses. Paranoid. Yes.

  But I’ve been an absent sister for most of my life. I plan on beating Rose and Poppy for the best older sister award, so I scoot closer to Daisy’s side and try to wedge my body between her and Horn-Rimmed.

  His hand falls off her back. Success.

  I inwardly give myself a second pat.

  And then every single man stares down at me like I appeared out of thin air, and not only that, I see their minds churning. It’s like their eyeballs are imprinted with she’s a sex addict. I’m a unique specimen, I suppose, but it only heightens the awkward silence.

  I have no idea how to alter it, no plan on what to say after I interrupted their conversation. I thought I could coyly sneak in, be all invisible, swat Horn-Rimmed’s hand away, and sneak out.

  I fucked up.

  But Daisy is so good at integrating introverts that she wraps an arm around my shoulders and says, “I was telling them about the time we tested out Hale Co. bicycles as kids.”

  I vaguely remember this, but it’s lost in a pool of other foggy memories.

  “I was six,” she quickly paints the picture for me, “and I decided to ride the bike without using the handlebars. I crashed into Jonathan’s Range Rover next door.”

  Daniel, with his fluffy brown hair, speaks up. “So you’ve moved on to crashing motorcycles?”

  All the guys laugh lightly, like flirty laughter, some even nervous. Like a gorgeous, confident girl automatically intimidates them. This is bizarre.

  Daisy shrugs. “I like going fast.”

  Horn-Rimmed zeroes in on me. “What about you, Lily? Are you more cautious in your approach?”

  My approach to life? All the eyes pin to my body, and my neck grows hot. And then Maximoff kicks me again, this time in the bladder. So hard that I have no opportunity to stop myself. The water I downed at the other table suddenly leaks.

  My world is in slow motion.

  Everyone waits for me to finish my sentence while a wet spot sprouts on my khaki slacks. Oh my God.

  I am mortified. This ranks up there…high, high up there.

  They can’t see. They can’t see. I pray that my face hasn’t turned tomato-red yet.

  “She’s more analytical than me,” Daisy says. I catch her gaze and she looks at me like are you okay? No. Nope. Daisy smiles at all of them, trying to remove the attention from me.

  “You’re the impulsive sister?” Horn-Rimmed asks Daisy, eyeing her long, long legs like Daniel did.

  “Very,” Daisy says, “and I’m so impulsive that I have to whisk Lily away from all of you. Sorry. We just need a quick break.” She hooks her arm with mine, and we head towards the ladies’ room. I’m practically sprinting.

  “What’s wrong?” she whispers.

  I shake my head. I can’t say just yet. My body is petrified, and goose bumps run down my arms the longer I play the moment in my head, on rerun. My face flames by the minute.

  When we disappear inside the bathroom, Daisy shutting the door, I inhale a deep breath. “I peed,” I let it out like that.

  Daisy stares at my pants and wears a pained smile. “Uh-oh.”

  I haven’t even grown the bravery to look, but I do now. The spot is very wet in the front. I check myself in the mirror. And the back.

  They all saw me pee myself. “I just screwed my chances.”

  “They all know you’re pregnant.” Daisy breezes down the bathroom, peeking in all the stalls to make sure they’re empty before she returns to me. “If I peed my pants, it would’ve been weird.”

  Yeah. Okay. I can blame this on my baby. It’s his fault. Oh God, that sounds awful too.

  Daisy takes out her phone and puts it on speaker. She’s the problem-solver in this instance. No matter that I’m older. Our roles usually reverse given the circumstance. I’ve bailed her out of situations and she’s bailed me out of plenty more.

  I’ve always felt guilty that she’s had to act like the older sister towards me. But, I think, maybe I’ve been wrong all this time.

  One of us doesn’t have to be more responsible than the other just because of age. We’re both vulnerable. We’re both strong. We’re both problem-solvers.

  I think, maybe, that’s what being sisters is all about. Picking each other up when the other trips. Putting on our sisterly superhero capes when the other needs us. We’re both human in the end.

  “Hey,” Daisy says into the receiver. “Are you around the Hale Co. offices by chance?”

  I expect Rose’s icy voice to cut in, not this one: “I’m about to ride over to Ralph Stover, but I can pass through if you need me.” Ryke Meadows. She called the one person that I am on a hiatus with.

  My eyes widen in horror at Daisy, and I wave my hands to shut this down, and I mouth, No! Daisy gives me a look lik
e this is the only option. But Lo…is working. Connor is working. Rose is working.

  Everyone is working on Tuesday. Except Ryke.

  “Dais? Is everything okay?” he asks. “I can pick you up if you want to leave early.”

  “No,” she says quickly. “It’s not that. Can you just grab some of Lily’s clothes—”

  “No, no, no,” I cut in, my voice high-pitched. “It’s fine. He has to go meet Ralph Stover. I wouldn’t want to take him away from his friend…” I trail off at Daisy’s smile.

  Ryke answers me on the line. “Ralph Stover is a fucking state park.” Rock climbing, I realize. He was going rock climbing. “What do you need, Lily?” I hear a door creak open from his end, and I wonder if he’s already in my bedroom.

  I think I’m a new shade of red called Fire Engine Embarrassment. I open my mouth to mumble out the articles of clothing, but I just eat air.

  “A new pair of pants,” Daisy tells him easily. “And panties.”

  I’d like to disintegrate now.

  “What the fuck happened?” Concern infiltrates his rough voice.

  “Ipeedmyself,” I say so quickly.

  “You pissed your pants?” Ryke asks with questioning, the sound of a drawer sliding open.

  I make a noise of distress and rest my forehead on the sink counter, all hunched over. Daisy rubs my back.

  “Hey.” Ryke tries to soften his voice. “It’s okay. I’ll be there in a second, Lily.”

  Daisy holds the phone near her mouth. “Can you speed?”

  “Sure,” he says without hesitation. “I always break this fucking law for you, sweetheart.” It is so cute that I almost swoon instead of roast, but this humiliation is just too strong today.

  My invisibility powers have let me down, once again.

  { 24 }

  LILY CALLOWAY

  In the span of five minutes, Irene has checked on us once, and we told her that someone is stopping by to bring me a change of clothes. She actually turned her scowl into a pity smile for me. That’s how bad this is.

  “He’s coming up the elevator,” Daisy says, checking her texts.

  I crack the bathroom door and peek at the fourteen board members, who all take the extra time to chat with each other.