We talked about this on the plane. I can’t go to rehab. That would entail leaving Lo and a brilliant therapist, both of which I love, and all of that would be replaced with anxiety-ridden group sessions. I can’t form the words Ryke wants me to until Lo laces his fingers with mine, courage filling me.
“I’m going to say…go to hell.”
Ryke tilts his head at me, appraising my tone. I said the right words, but maybe not in the most confident way. He turns to Lo.
“We’ll work on it,” Lo tells me.
I nod. At least I have their support. Ryke and Lo, as a team—for however strange that would have seemed months ago—it’s the best thing for me.
Just not a sexual team.
Purely chaste here.
Okay, I’ll stop now. I think porn has fried my brain. I blame Melissa! I’m going to use that excuse for the rest of the day.
I do feel a little better.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
LILY CALLOWAY
I haven’t toldmy parents to “go to hell” yet, but that’s partly because they really haven’t spoken to me. When we arrived at their Villanova mansion, Lo and I were ushered into one of the dens. My parents were there, along with his father, but so were four lawyers that squeezed onto a single couch. The lawyers asked us questions, and I tried to explain everything without becoming too much of an emotional mess. I failed on multiple occasions, blubbering so much that Lo would have to finish talking for me.
But my mother and father never said a word and avoided my gaze as much as possible. They might as well have been listening from another room. The hardest part was going through the video clips that many guys posted and claimed as sex tapes. Some blurry ones I couldn’t be certain were me or not, but others were clearly fabricated. I don’t have any cute freckles on my butt.
Four hours later, my throat has swollen from talking and bearing as much of the truth as I could. We even came clean about our fake relationship. Now Lo and I wait in the living room while the lawyers and our parents deliberate about the next steps. Rose and Ryke offered to be here, but we both wanted to do this on our own.
“What if they never speak to me again?” I say, rubbing my puffy eyes. I spot Harold, our butler, walking rather quickly past the doorway with the mail in his hands. The staff, most of whom I’ve known for years, have all had the same skittish reaction around me. Like I’m contagious.
“That wouldn’t be a big change, would it?” Lo asks.
My heart twists a little at his words. They haven’t been the most active participants in my life, but I always thought it was my own doing. I purposefully alienated myself during college. But then again, my father was never around when I was a child, and my mother brushed me away pretty easily. But Rose said my mom bought self-help books to learn how to reconnect to her children, so maybe…she’s trying? I don’t think there’s a black and white answer. I think I’ve been swimming in the gray state of things for so long.
They’re still my parents. I love them because I believe they truly love me. My father has given me so much, and even if Ryke says otherwise, I can’t just abandon this life with my family or walk away from what I did. I don’t want to be that insolent child, stomping on my parent’s livelihood and then tellingthemto clean it up. It’s my fault. I need to take responsibility.
I just hope that I haven’t done irreparable damage—to the company, our family, and my relationship with them.
“It’s going to be weird talking to them through lawyers,” I rephrase. “It’s already weird.”
“Yeah, that’s kind of bullshit,” he agrees and takes my hand in his. “Whatever happens, we’re in this together. You and me.”
“Lily and Lo,” I say with a weak smile. It hurts to lift my lips, but I try my best. I’ve avoided this day for a week now, and every minute I’m here reminds me of all the harm I’ve caused.
He kisses my cheek and the doors to the den open. The lawyers and our parents file out in a large wave. I haven’t been able to apologize to either my mother or father. Every time I tried to digress from the lawyers’ questions, they snapped me back on track with a sharp tone. I fear this may be my only chance.
I walk quickly around the couch, my parents heading in the opposite direction down the long narrow hallway. “Mom!” I shout, scooting past one of Jonathan’s burly lawyers.
She doesn’t look back. “Mom!” I yell again, nearly reaching her as I walk faster. She ignores me, and I rest my hand on her shoulder to stop her.
She spins around on her heels, my father padding ahead.
Her cold eyes puncture me, filled more with malice than anything else, and it takes me a moment to remember what I was even doing in the first place.
I stumble back a little. “I’m sorry,” I choke. “I’m so sorry.”
“You can be sorry all you want,” she says with a chill. She touches her pearls across her sharp collarbone. “It won’t repair the damage you have done to this family.” She takes a step forward, and I take one step back so we don’t bump chests. “You have everything a girl could ever want, and you had to spread your legs for every boy who gave you an ounce of attention. I didn’t raise you to be so disgusting.”
Tears cloud my eyes, and I disobey my therapist’s orders and internalize everything she says. I deserve her hate. I’ve ruined everything my father has ever created. Years and years of hard work have been tarnished by me and my stupid fucking decisions.
