From the nursery across from Moffy’s, Jane cries incessantly. I peek out into the hallway and crane my neck. Connor and Rose’s bedroom door is still closed. We all agreed on not employing the “cry it out” parenting method since there are two newborns in the house. It’s just way too loud.
If Jane keeps crying, Maximoff won’t stop.
A second later, Lo exits our bedroom in a pair of black drawstring pants. I glance at his crotch. What happened?
“I couldn’t wait.” He kisses me on the cheek. “Sorry, love.” And then he rubs Moffy’s little head and tuft of dark brown hair. “You hate your cousin’s crying, don’t you, bud?”
And like magic, my sister’s bedroom door blows open. Connor appears—holy shit. I don’t have anything to shield my eyes with. My hands are occupied with a baby. “Lo,” I call for help.
He easily reads my thoughts, based on my red flush and alarm. His palm covers my eyes, even if it’s a little too late. I saw Connor’s bare chest, glistening with sweat. And more than that. His drawstring pants are way more revealing than Lo’s. Maybe because he’s in the moment where there is much more to be revealed.
Oh my God. Forget, Lily, forget.
I’m trying.
“Excited to see me?” Lo banters.
“Always, darling,” he replies lightly. “Sorry I took so long, Lily.” Lo drops my hand about the same time that Connor disappears into Jane’s nursery. A safe view.
I rock Moffy in my arms, but his blubbering doesn’t cease. It’s most likely because of Jane, but my nerves only heighten. Feeling helpless, I pat him a little more. Hoping he’ll calm soon.
“Here.” Lo collects our son from me, and the wails grow, more high-pitched and screechy. It’s like daggers in my heart. “It’s okay, little guy. You’re safe with us.”
Jane’s screams soften. Maybe he had to change her diaper or she wanted to be held. Connor leaves the nursery a minute later, even though Jane hasn’t stopped completely. Lo and I are in the doorway, waiting for her to quiet so Maximoff can go to bed.
“She’s still crying,” I state the obvious.
Connor hesitates in the hall, his eyes flitting to his bedroom in concern. “I have to check on Rose for a second,” he tells us quickly. “I’ll be right back. I promise.”
“Wait, what?” Lo snaps. “Look, Moffy won’t stop unless Jane does. Can you please deal with your baby first?” I’m about to offer some help. Lo can rock Moffy and I’ll take care of Jane, but Connor speaks fast and walks even quicker.
“In five seconds, I won’t be alive long enough to deal with my baby.” When he opens his door, I hear Rose curse him out.
My eyes widen. “Do you think she’s like…” Tied up? I can’t even utter the words though. It’s not an image I want in my head.
Lo cringes. “Let’s not go there.” Fine with me.
I kiss Moffy’s head and rub his small back while Lo bounces him lightly. We wait for a couple minutes before both Rose and Connor emerge from their bedroom together. Rose, in a black silk robe, has reddened, flushed cheeks. She looks more pissed than aroused.
When she sees us, she points at Connor. “Blame him.”
“What’d he do to you?” Lo asks in jest. “Steal your broomstick?”
She glares. “I’m not telling you.” And then she stomps into the nursery with her husband. In an instant, Jane’s cries start to die down.
“Thank God,” Lo mutters. Maximoff’s eyes start fluttering closed, his lips parted as he breathes.
I smile at him, running my finger over his smooth cheek. “Do you think they’ll be friends?”
“Who?” His brows scrunch. “Janie and Moffy?”
I nod, trying not to smile too much at Jane’s nickname, also coined by Ryke. Connor and Rose have made a point not to use it, but it’s going to catch on by some people. And I envision Maximoff growing up with his best friend Janie.
Even though he’ll never have siblings, he’ll have her. And I bet he’ll look after her too. If he’s anything like his dad, he’ll want to keep Jane safe.
“As much as the idea of Rose’s spawn terrifies me,” Lo says in a quiet voice, setting Moffy back in his crib, “I would kind of love them being friends.”
“Me too,” I whisper. After leaving the nursery, we both tiptoe back to our room, and when Lo shuts the door, his attention turns to me.
His hands lower to my waist. “Finish what we started?”
It takes me a moment to realize that he’s talking about sex. A light bursts in my brain, bright and beautiful. I’m not as evil as I thought I’d be.
Lo said as much.
“I love you,” I tell him. He’s my teammate. My sidekick. The person I want to tag in for every tough moment in my life. My very own Scott Summers.
48
LILY CALLOWAY
I tweet: Getting ready for Hale Co. charity event with my sisters #raidingRoseCobaltcloset
I attach a photo of Daisy and me jumping on Rose’s bed. I’m a bit blurry and flailing in the pic, but Daisy looks cool, her fists raised and platinum-blonde hair sticking up mid-bounce.
“Try these on, Lily,” Rose says, splaying a gray Calloway Couture dress beside a lilac one on the edge of the bed. Right as I climb off the light blue comforter, my phone chimes in quick succession, a bunch of Twitter notifications.
“Did you tweet?” Rose asks flatly. She tightens the strap to her silk robe. Like Daisy, I’m only in a bra and panties while we figure out what to wear. But I made sure we were fully-clothed when we took the earlier pic.
“Maybe…” I hesitate. “The publicists never said no.” The response, at first, wasn’t what I wanted, I’ll admit. Celebrity Crush ate up a story about how I was “trying too hard” to promote Raisy. But the fans seem to like all the interaction. Like photos of Lo and my sisters. And status updates. Since Princesses of Philly ended, people are naturally curious about our daily lives.
I’d rather give them the real story than the media create something fake. And with social media, we have the chance to do that. I even expressed this to my mom yesterday (in person) over coffee at Lucky’s and she agreed with me. Like really, really agreed.
“Mom said it was a good idea,” I remind Rose.
She rolls her eyes. “Of course she does. She wants our family to be relevant for as long as possible.”
“But this is something in our control,” I express. “And we’re a part of a fandom.” There is nothing more exciting than that.
Rose stays quiet on the matter, straightening the fabric of the gray dress, but I can tell she’s mulling over the idea of social media.
I check the Twitter replies and smile.
@ToriKPierce3: @lilycallowayX23 Lucky! I want to raid Rose’s closet too!
@Pippa_Woo: @lilycallowayX23 ILY! OMG!
“Speaking of fans,” Daisy says with a mischievous smile. She pulls out a manila package from her purse.
I frown while Rose’s back arches in sisterly protection.
“Security goes through fan mail now,” Rose retorts. She stopped opening the mail about the same time people were sending her black whips, ball gags, and amateur p**n videos.
“It’s not fan mail.” Daisy jumps up on the bed theatrically and pumps the package in the air. “I was browsing through fan sites, and I stumbled on a merchandise store.” She wags her brows, her grin so contagious that my lips curve upward.