Some Kind of Perfect (Calloway Sisters 5)

I test it out. “I was punched by the thing.” I like it. “Sounds better.”

“Thirdly.” There’s a thirdly? He pauses for a short moment, his gaze roaming my features, and then he tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. “There is absolutely nothing you could do or say or anything that could happen that’d make me embarrassed to be your husband.” He shakes his head and repeats, “Nothing.”

I sniff, trying to restrain incoming tears. I put my hand to my burning eye, pain increasing. “Don’t make me get all emotional.”

“Well don’t get so down on yourself.”

“Fair enough.” I feel time ticking by now, especially since people are waiting for us in his office and whoever needs to use this elevator. “Are we good?”

“Not yet.” He bends down a little, and before I locate my brain, his lips are on mine. The surprise kiss jolts me, but as the shock wears off, I sink into the embrace. My hands wrap around his shoulders, and I rise to the tips of my toes, intensifying the kiss. My eager body curves against his, and our tongues skillfully tangle together.

He grips my hips, one large hand edging towards my ass.

Squeeze it again. My mind pleads.

Instead, he swiftly tugs my body further against his, the kiss deepening. A moan catches in my throat, and I tremble, heat building between us.

He breaks apart. “Now we’re good.” His lips are a little pinker and more swollen.

I touch mine, stinging from the quick force. What a tease.

I eye Lo greedily: the few brown strands hanging in his eyes, his hair shorter on the sides, his cheekbones—yes those cheekbones that I will mention from here until eternity. You would too if you saw them.

It’s not even his appearance. It’s the way that he keeps glancing over to me as he presses the elevator button. It’s the way his pinky hooks with mine, just for a second, before he full-on cups my hand. It’s the way he spent all this time giving me a pep talk—when I know tomorrow, I’ll be there to give him one if need be.

It’s the way he feels like another extremity of myself. Like a huge, overwhelming part of me.

We’ve been through so much, and I can see our road paved with more bumps, our fight filled with more battles—but ones we’re finally equipped to face.

The elevator doors slide open, and we walk ahead.

Ready to face one more together.

[ 2 ]

June 2018

Hale Co. Offices

Philadelphia

ROSE COBALT

“They’re late,” I announce, ice dripping off each syllable. “Late arrivers must pay the consequences.” I spin a pen between my fingers, seated at the head of the table in a Hale Co. conference room.

Connor is seated at the other end, the long stretch of the table separating us. His calmness proves infuriating, per usual. I make sure to send him scathing glares made of fire and brimstone.

He should be worried too. Loren is his best friend, and he’s now—I check my phone—fifteen minutes late. It’s not like Lily and Lo are always prompt, but they’re usually here before Ryke.

My brother-in-law has chosen the leather chair closest to my littlest sister, both in the center of the conference table. As though to declare their neutrality between Connor and me. I would test Daisy’s loyalty, but her wide-eyed baby preoccupies her attention. She rocks the little five-month-old in her arms, trying to ease Sullivan Minnie Meadows into a post-lunch nap.

I love my niece, but she was not invited.

Ryke peels his gaze off his daughter. “Do I even want to ask what paying the consequences fucking involves?”

“Blood sacrifice probably.” Daisy wags her brows; then she tucks a yellow baby blanket tighter around Sullivan. The air conditioning blows a violent stream of cold air onto them.

The air ducts, too, recognize that babies are not allowed to this particular meeting. We all agreed. I dropped Jane, Charlie, and Beckett off at our parent’s house. Lily did the same with Maximoff, so I don’t expect to see my nephew when she arrives.

Daisy was supposed to follow suit, but she retreated at the last minute and brought her daughter here. I’m not sure if it’s because she doesn’t want to leave Sullivan with our mother or if she doesn’t want to part with her baby.

I just want to make sure my sister is mentally doing fine. After what happened—I inhale a strained breath, my collarbone jutting out from my red dress. I try to block out a moment that ripped me to shreds.

I almost lost my sister.

I bear hard on my teeth and focus back on the topic at hand. “It involves my wrath, but depending on how late they are, blood sacrifices might need to be implemented.”

Connor cups a steaming mug of coffee. “How will we decide who goes first?” he challenges. “Your sister or Loren?”

“I’ve had to make harder decisions in preschool.” I click my pen. “My sister will be spared—of course.”

He doesn’t blink. Instead he sips his coffee with smugness pooling in his deep blue eyes. What does he even have to be smug about?

I click my pen more forcefully, drilling a hot glare between his eyeballs. The war is not over, Richard. You haven’t won a thing.

His lips rise as he sets down his mug. “Your vote plus Daisy’s vote against my vote and Ryke’s—that’s called a tie. You do know what those are, don’t you?”

I flip my glossy hair off my shoulder. “Not as much as you. I win more than I tie.” I say win with so much hostility that his small smile transforms into a blinding grin.

Ugh.

That didn’t go as planned.

I glower and gesture to Ryke and Daisy. “And they haven’t even voted yet, Richard. You can’t just assume what they’d choose.” My head whips to their side of the table.

Ryke is focused on someone who lingers in the hallway.

Did I mention that all of the boardrooms and offices have glass walls? A young employee loiters by a copy machine, his tie crooked and hair smoothed with too much gel. He does a pathetically awful job of pretending not to watch us.

I snap my fingers towards Ryke until I gain his attention. It takes him a second to catch up.

He raises his hands in surrender. “Fuck no. I’m not getting into this.”

“Daisy.” I lift my chin and pull back my shoulders. “Choose your next words wisely.” Sister loyalty.

She adjusts her baby in her arms. “I don’t want to sacrifice anyone. Can’t we all hypothetically live?” She offers me the kindest smile. I love Daisy for being able to voice her opinions, even when they differ from mine.

Can’t we all hypothetically live?

Literally, I’d fight for all of our survival.

Hypothetically and figuratively, I don’t mind a few casualties.

I click my pen. “If we must.”

Sullivan smacks her lips and then yawns against her mom’s palm. Daisy nuzzles her forehead against her daughter’s.

It’s borderline nauseating.

I don’t grow fuzzy feelings at the sight of cooing babies and maternal warmth. Infants are miniature devils.

Mine included.

And I love them. Including their downfalls: the snotty noses and incessant crying and inability to carry intellectual conversations. I may not appear as affectionate as any of my sisters, but I show affection in ways that don’t involve using my nose to tickle a baby’s nose. I’d never tell her not to be that way. I want her to be her. Just as I’d hope people would want me to be me.

If anyone says that my love is somehow less than another mother’s, then fuck them. They have no clue the lengths I’d go for my little gremlins.

I watch my sister murmur a few soft words to Sullivan, the baby finally nodding off. Ryke has his arm draped over Daisy’s shoulders, his focus partly on his daughter and partly on his wife. I see exhaustion in his face and hers, but more so my sister. Dark crescent moons lie beneath her eyes.

I set my pen down. “Daisy?”

“Yeah?” Sh

e keeps her voice hushed but meets my gaze.

“Connor and I would be happy to babysit anytime you need us.”

Connor has his annoying finger to his annoying jaw like he’s in mock contemplation. There’s nothing to contemplate. Daisy and Ryke have been glued to Sullivan since she was born. Five months without one break. I understand every parent is different, but I’m worried about my sister.