Five bodyguards surround Rose. They shoo people away from her area with authoritative looks. I last saw Poppy and Daisy disappear into a sporting goods store to find gifts for their husbands.
Rose cuts her spinach and goat cheese toast with a fork and knife. As though this is any other day. I suppose it is. Crowds gathered just on the other side of the potted plants. Phones point directly at Rose to see her food choice and her pregnant belly. She looks exceptionally regal today, a glittery statement necklace, form-fitting black dress (Calloway Couture), and deep blue matte nails.
Our bodyguards watch the crowds, but they don’t block their view of us. We always tell them not to worry about that. We don’t mind the pictures, especially when they’re of us without our kids.
“I told you to stay in this protective circle.” Rose gestures around the table with her knife. If icy looks could kill, I’d be buried. “It’s the safe zone.”
Just as Rose finishes her declaration, two teenage girls try to pass the hostess podium, phones in their clutch. They plead for selfies with us, but Garth is telling them no.
I feel bad, but I have to remember that I spent the past two hours taking photographs. I can’t spend my entire life taking them.
“Rose,” a college-aged girl with dark brown hair calls. She squeezes past Garth and the two teenagers. The other bodyguards let her through. She looks winded like she hustled to the café with all her might. “I found the polka-dot tights for Jane, but I couldn’t find any pink glitter hair clips.”
Rose jots a note in her little spiral-bound pad beside her plate. “I’ll make those clips then.” She rips off a bottom piece of paper and hands it to her assistant. “Here’s more of the list, and I’ll need you to run to a craft store if the mall doesn’t have one.”
She reads the list quickly.
Rose eyes her for a short second. “Hope?”
“Yeah?”
“The last item on the list is serious. You can’t skip it.”
Hope skims the list and then relaxes. “I won’t. Thank you, Rose. I’ll have the rest to you soon.” She skirts away.
Rose sips her water and cuts another piece of toast.
Yes, Rose Calloway Cobalt gave her shopping duties to another person. For someone who not only loves to shop but struggles with delegation, I never thought the day would arrive. The fact that she’s thirty-two-weeks pregnant swayed her decision. Plus in Rose’s mind, missing out on a sisterly excursion is comparable to abandoning Daisy, Poppy, and me in a sinking raft.
“What was that last item?” I ask.
“For Hope to take a break and eat lunch. I had to remind her yesterday that I wouldn’t fire someone over a simple mistake. Do I look like a drill sergeant?” She grips her knife, her yellow-green eyes pierced and cold like the rest of her features.
“Uh…” Is this a trick question? “Yes?”
Rose rolls her eyes. “Well, I don’t act it, even if I look it.” This is true. She gives more gifts to her assistants and bodyguards than I remember to give Superhero & Scones employees, and she’s an advocate for vacation time for her staff when they need it.
I just now notice a bowl of chips and dip behind a toy store bag. I put the bag on another chair and dunk a chip into the chunky blue cheese. “The protective circle has chips. I like it.” I munch.
Rose cranes her neck and zones in on my one shopping bag. “Make a list. We can send someone to shop for you.”
“No.” I shake my head. “I’m going to make a second pass. Maybe bring two more bodyguards with me to keep the fans engaged with other things.” This plan actually sounds decent. I dunk two chips at one time.
I miss Lo.
He’d appreciate the chips with me but definitely not the blue cheese dip.
And he’d order tacos. I remember that he’s with Connor, Ryke, Willow, and Garrison and all the kids. They planned to play in the snow and then watch Christmas movies at the Cobalt estate.
Rose’s knife clanks against the plate like she dropped the utensil. I watch her hands rest on her lower abdomen. She blows out a long breath.
My eyes grow. “Are you okay?”
“The little monster won’t stop moving.” She swallows hard, her neck stiff. Then her glare ignites me. “Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?” Blue chees dribbles down my chin and onto my baggy sweater. Shit. I wipe it up with a napkin.
“I’m fine.” She waves like she’s brushing off all the worry in the atmosphere. “Fate might want this baby out a little early, and I can handle whatever comes my way.”
I choke on a chip and pat my chest. “Early like now?”
“No, not now. I’m fine.”
I only believe Rose because I’ve seen her combat contractions. She’d be more rigid than right now, and her collarbone would protrude. “Are you nervous you’ll have another boy?”
This is Rose’s seventh pregnancy and her seventh child, though she technically birthed eight children. One just happens to belong to Ryke and Daisy. I think mentally she might be done after this baby, boy or girl. She’s thirty-five, and she’s told us that she doesn’t want to spend the rest of her thirties birthing babies. Lo said that Connor worries about the strain on Rose’s back, so he’s ready for this to be the last one too.
But if she has a boy, I wonder if she’ll feel like fate is telling her to have an eighth baby.
“No, I’m not nervous,” Rose snaps like I shouldn’t apply that word to her. “If it’s a boy, Connor and I agreed to make a pros and cons list and then go from there.”
I bet fate would weigh a lot on Rose’s side of things, but Rose’s health for Connor just might be the ultimate trump card in determining what happens.
If they have a girl, this all becomes irrelevant anyway.
I dip my napkin in my water glass. Rose gives me a look. Whatever. I rub at the stain on my black sweater. I think I just made the white spot more noticeable. Does it look like jizz?
My cheeks redden. No one thinks Loren Hale’s cum is on your sweater.
I do.
I’m thinking it.
I point at the spot and ask Rose, “What do you think?” Cum or not cum?
“I think you should make a list,” Rose replies with an icy, villainess smile. Then she digs in her Chanel purse and tosses me a stain-removal pen. Very un-villain-like. I love you, Rose. “And you can keep me company.”
It’s tempting. “You could’ve baited me with the stain-removal pen.”
“I’d rather you stayed with me because you want to be with me and not my cleaning products.”
Oh. “I love you both.”
She almost smiles and then rolls her eyes at the way I touch the removal pen to the sweater. “You’re doing that incorrectly. Come here.”
I stand up and go to Rose’s side. She rises with me and efficiently scrubs at the stain, able to defeat it in a few seconds.
I have a better view of the mall’s second floor and notice a sign beside a pet store. Adopt Today! Last call shelter dogs & cats looking for loving homes! Kittens are in the window front while dogs stay confined in a little gated area outside the store, two employees in Pet Paradise shirts.
Rose has already tucked the stain-removal pen in her purse, and now she’s smiling at her phone.
Connor texted her, I infer, and then a puppy steals all my attention. He—I think he’s a he—walk-hops in a circle inside the gate, his big floppy ears flapping with his goofy stride. Then he literally face-plants on the hard floor.
I wince, but the little pup picks himself up, shakes his head, and continues his happy walk-hop around all the other dogs. Not a care in the world.
The puppy tugs all the strings connected to my heart. Fans suddenly start gasping, their phones spinning to the right. That’s when Daisy appears on the other side of the plants. She chucks her bags onto our pile and hikes over the plants to our side.
“Hey, big sis,” she says to me since Rose is engrossed in her phone.
“What does last call mean?” I ask Daisy.
She follows my gaze to Pet Paradise. “Ohh,” she says sadly. “Whoever isn’t adopted might be put down this week or even as soon as tomorrow.”
“What?” My face falls. I’m not a pet person, which I know isn’t an excuse, but I never knew this actually happens.