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’ll 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.
Lily puts her half-eaten churro back into the box. “We wanted to wait until they were older. High school, at least.”
She’s taken the news with Moffy better than I imagined. Lily might’ve prepared herself for the moment he’d learn about her sex addiction, and when it arrived, it blew like the wind and not a storm.
Rose taps her nails on the iron table. “Maybe we can let the little kids wait that long, but the older ones are already finding out information before we’ve had the chance to tell them ourselves.”
The sun has almost completely fallen, darkening our surroundings. We’re quiet, and their minds click and turn rapidly.
Lo is the one to stand. “Moffy, Charlie, and Jane?”
Just three for now.
Daisy and Ryke nod, both at ease keeping Sullivan in the dark a while longer. Lily joins in, nodding decisively.
He already knows my stance and Rose’s, so he flicks on the patio lights and disappears inside to bring out the children.
Rose finishes off her glass of wine, eyes pierced. Our children may see us differently after this, but I’m content with a simple fact. They’ll learn our reality, the truth, and that matters most to us.
Rose raises her chin, my hand tightened in hers, and she looks to me with eyes made of fire and warfare. “Our children are growing up.”