More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
“What kind of fucking cocks?” he asks, his rough exterior not crumbling. “The large kind.” I motion with my hands, about a foot and a half long. “Like this big.” His brows rise. “That big?” We unconsciously draw closer, until our legs touch. “Oh yeah. They’re the best cocks. Always up to play in the morning.” I pause. “You wouldn’t happen to have seen this cock around, would you?” Ryke sweeps my body, warming me in the cold, and then he pulls my heart-shaped sunglasses halfway off my nose, eyes on my eyes. “Maybe check your fucking imagination. Because there are no cocks that size.” I feign
...more
Relationships that take the most effort and the most time become the mightiest, most resilient bonds in the end. So if this theory proves right, their friendship will be the strongest of them all.
“You know what happens when I see raisins in a cookie or a slice of bread? I think, get the fuck away from me. You’ve ruined my food. You don’t want that negativity attached to your ship name.”
“You’re called a fucking cinnamon roll,”
“Yeah,” Lo rebuts, “and who doesn’t love a cinnamon roll?” Lily says to me, “Beautiful cinnamon roll, too good for this world, too pure.” That’s it. Everyone’s lost their fucking minds.
“Don’t fucking ask,” I snap. “I don’t have to ask to know,” he says easily. “And Ryke?” “Yeah?” “Don’t cum in my pants.”
I sprint across the living room to reach my brother. And then noises blare from my cell’s speakers at loud volume. High-pitched cries of pleasure. Daisy’s cries. My low groan in the background. Fuck. Fuck. The bottom of my stomach just drops, and dread contorts Lo’s face before cementing in a cringe. By the fireplace, I go to steal my cell back, but in horror, Lo flings my phone as far from himself as possible. Across the fucking room. It thuds on the rug. By Connor’s feet.
Daisy buries her face into a pillow. “Shut it off,” I tell Connor, and right as I approach him, he picks up the phone, eyes flitting to the screen, and calmly hands me the cell. Like it’s nothing.
Lo snaps, “That’s easy for you to say. You didn’t see the video or your brother’s dick pics.”
“So…” Lily says on the loveseat beside her husband, her Maid of Honor crown crooked. “…you watch it while you…have sex?” “Mmmm?” My mind is like does not compute. Can’t compute. Males named Connor & Loren in room. I’ve made plenty of sex jokes in the past, but I totally blank when my real sex life is blown up in their faces. “Mmmhmm.” I nod. “Yep. You know…all of that.” I try to plaster on a smile. Dig that grave, Daisy. “I can’t say this is something I’ve never seen before,” Connor quips to Ryke. Since he saw Ryke come on my face? “Personally, I’d like to stop meeting your dick like this.”
She goes for the jugular by trying to steal his comic. She only grips one end and he yanks the other, morphing into a tug-of-war. Her cheeks redden in effort while Lo barely does a thing. “Let…go,” she huffs. “Is that a little bicep?” He squeezes her nonexistent muscle. “Damn, love, don’t Hulk out on me.” “You’re being an ass.” “I’m always an ass, Lily Hale, and I don’t like sharing my toys.” He pries the comic, and she loses her grip completely.
“You were going to let us bet on the sex when you’re having goddamn twins? That’s the dirtiest thing you two have done in a while.”
“You know what I think, Dad?” “What?” Wariness grips his darkened eyes as he waits for Lo’s punchline with the rest of us. “Hales are made of glass. We’re sharp, but we break easily.”
Dr. Yoshida finally smiles. “Congratulations, Daisy, you’re pregnant.”
I turn to Ryke, his reddened eyes never leaving me. He looks as overcome as I feel. And then I watch as tears slide down his cheeks. He’s crying.
“We’re going to have a baby,” I whisper, tears dripping down mine. He nods and smiles, wider than almost anytime ever before, and he says, “Yeah, Calloway. We’re going to have a fucking baby.”
“Were you in Forbes again?” Lo asks. “Or did Satan finally name you his successor?” Her yellow-green eyes puncture a hole in his forehead. “Go choke on your dessert.” “You were in Forbes?” Sam asks sincerely. Lo cocks his head. “Seriously, where have you been? She printed like fifteen copies of the magazine article. I’m surprised she didn’t slip them underneath your door in the middle of the fucking night.” Connor interjects, “Being ranked in Forbes 30 Under 30 is a rare and prestigious achievement. It deserves all the fanfare.”
“Sweet Disposition” by The Temper Trap fills the room with the smoothest, most beautiful melody.
“I’m so fucking in love with you.”
lips. People say you can’t describe love, but I have this theory that you can. It’s just subjective. Do you want to know what love feels like for me? It’s breathing and suffocating. Sobbing and smiling. Yearning and fading. To ache that much harder. To live that much larger. It’s every moment. Every single, tiny one. I’ve felt it all with Ryke. And it’s not solely the wild, crazed events that keep my heart pumping. It’s these small, most inconceivable seconds of time spent together. Our smiles. Our tears. Our limbs shifting or standing still. The instant our lonely souls are filled. I’ve never
...more
He kisses me gently, and I think, this is it. Our first dance. I whisper against his lips, “This moment is ours, isn’t it?”
“This is fucking ours.” I run my fingers through his hair again. “I’m so happy I could scream.” His lips curve upward. “Then scream, Calloway.”
She’s beautiful and has more self-confidence than I ever remember her possessing. I’m proud of you, Lil.
Next, two-year-old Janie and Moffy shuffle down the aisle, tossing white flower petals from their respective baskets. Then comes a chorus of “awwws” and camera flashes from Daisy’s parents. These two little kids are beyond fucking cute.
Our white husky suddenly appears, her tail wagging as she hurries excitedly down the aisle, a yellow bow tied around her collar. As she reaches me, I crouch and pat her side and rub behind her ears.
6:12 a.m. The sun is rising in Peru.
“You two have sacrificed a lot for the people you love. So now, right now, in whatever time that’s left—this is your time to be happy. We’re all here ready to watch you.” He pauses. “Not in a pervy way.”
“During Christmas, I asked you when you knew that I’m the one, that this is the ‘can’t-eat, can’t-sleep, reach-for-the-stars, over-the-fence, World Series kind of stuff’—do you remember that?”
“The simple answer,” she says, “would be the moment you dove in after me, but back then I hadn’t discovered the depth of your compassion, how much you truly love living life, and how we seem to fit, even when we shouldn’t.”
“I realized then that I’d never want to be vulnerable with any other man but you. Someone who understands me. Respects me. Loves me—so wildly. You were the only one. You are the only one.”
“I love you.” She playfully bites my shoulder, our family and friends shedding tears faster than I can count.
“I knew,” I say slowly to her, “that you were the only girl that I’d ever fall in love with—could ever fall in love with—in Cancún, Mexico, on the boardwalk of a bungee jump.”
And I vow, “Wherever you go, I’ll go.” As long as I’m alive, this will never fucking change.
“I love you,” she murmurs, her voice cracking. “I really love you.” She’s my wife. My sun. The person I thought about. In the end.
“I’m not fucking leaving you.” I cup her face and before she asks, I say it again. “I’m not fucking leaving you, Calloway. You’re stuck with me.”
“I’m done being the focus of everyone’s attention.” “Maybe you shouldn’t have fallen off the side of a goddamn cliff then.” He grimaces almost immediately after it comes up. I actually smile. “There he is. My little brother.”
Lily rushes in, hurriedly brushing her heavy tears away, and she removes her fuzzy white hat like she needs to be respectful in my fucking presence. “He’s not Jesus,” Lo says, obviously thinking the same thing.
“It’s sterilized,” Lo combats. “I thought you’d love it here.” He swings Moffy to the left, and the kid grabs a yellow paper daisy. My lips lift a fraction. Rose glowers. “Shut up, Loren,” she says weakly.
When I glance back at Connor, his eyes are glassed over. Mine burn raw. “I’m a man of extraordinary talents, but I need you.” He swallows. “Do you hear what I’m saying?”
“There are people that love you here,” he breathes. I can practically hear the shadow of his words: I held them in my arms. I’m standing here.
“Do you remember what I wrote in your journal?” he asks. “The part in Italian.” A Christmas or two ago, he wrote inside a journal I’d given him, all in different foreign languages, and he wrapped it and gifted it back to me. The parts I understand, I’ve read maybe a dozen times. I lick my lips and say, “Ti rispetto e ti ammiro così tanto, amico mio. Mi hai aiutato ad essere altruista.” I respect and admire so much about you, my friend. You helped me be selfless.
His casted leg is stretched out with curse words scrawled in black Sharpie. He didn’t care what we wrote, so I suggested our Favorite Sayings from Ryke Meadows. My favorite: I fucking love you. Willow’s: I don’t fucking understand Tumblr. Lo’s: Fuck you, you fucking fuck. Lily’s: Fucking fantastic. Rose’s: No means no. Better yet, fuck no. Connor’s: Connor Cobalt is a fucking narcissist. Connor’s won the night, but no one wanted to tell him that.
I understand being sad in ways that don’t necessarily make sense. To wake up feeling a little dimmer than the day before, a little emptier, and his grief has manifested into this leeching sorrow. I see it in his eyes. It hurts to watch someone like Ryke, stubborn and committed, suddenly slow down and sink beneath quicksand. I can’t pull him out. I want to so badly, but I can’t rouse his spirits by going for a run or playing bad cop. I have to go easy because of the baby, and he needs someone who’s going hard.
“Wherever you go, I’ll go,” I whisper. “I’ll be here no matter what, but I have to warn you.”
“Be warned,” I say, “my pickup lines aren’t going anywhere. You can reject them or accept them, but they’re here to stay.” He raises his brows. “As long as these pickup lines are only used on your fucking husband. I heard he can be a jealous jackass.”
“So what’s the prognosis of Jane’s style?” “She hates black,” Rose says, not shocked by the outcome, and I catch her lips pulling up a little bit. “So besides the fact that she’s betrayed the staple color of Calloway Couture, she’s a beautiful miniature monster with a flair for crying in public.” She flashes four photos of Jane bawling in bathrooms. “You took pictures of her crying?” Lily says like she’s gone mad. “So she can see her true self. They’re just for her. I wouldn’t post them on social media.” She sorts the photos back in their correct piles. “Connor and I both agreed that it’s a
...more
“Your first mistake is talking to Lo.” “Hey,” Lily defends her husband. “He gives good advice.”
“Loren told me to cool down by sticking my head into the freezer. He also said I should build my home there so I can rule over the ice cubes and frozen broccoli.” Lily tries hard not to laugh.
And I think, Lily Calloway is very, very magical.
He never gives up on me, even when I disappear at night. Even when I wane like the setting sun. His love is unyielding and exists to cloak me through heartache, through misery, through laughter and pain. I love him in every moment. In every smile. In every frown. And I will love him after every long way down.
