“It’s a bit of a surprise, I know,” Gavin said, his voice soothing, seductive even. They sat at the informal kitchen breakfast nook while Sophie stood on the deck, staring out at the panoramic sea view. “All I’m after is trying to make my wife happy. She has fallen madly in love with this house.” He paused as he tried to understand the reasons himself. “She spent a lot of time on the beach as a kid, so maybe this place satisfies those cravings for childhood comforts we’re never really able to re-create since growing up,” he said. “Or maybe it’s the way the sea seems to promise a kind of renewal, a new start. I do know that the only real thing I’m capable of giving her is the hope something different brings. The thing is, I’d buy her a thousand houses if it meant she’d be happy again. Honest to God, she’s an angel but by being with me she has settled for less than she deserves. I can’t bear to disappoint her, not again."
"I see," Mrs. Smythe said. "That's sweet, but—"
“It’s a tremendous thing to ask of you and your family,” Gavin continued. “But I’ll do anything I can to make it as convenient as possible for you. And, I will pay whatever price you ask. Whatever.”
Tears flooded Mrs. Smythe’s eyes, and Gavin sighed with relief. The sheer romance of what he was willing to do for his wife obviously resonated deeply with her.
“I can’t promise anything, but I’ll talk to my husband,” she said, taking his hand in both of hers and giving it a squeeze.
And Gavin smiled because he knew he had just bought a new house. The cost really didn’t matter. Gavin had chosen long ago not to rely on money and material things. He didn’t care what car he had or where he lived because he never wanted to feel beholden to a means of securing these things. It was a way of defending against—at least in his mind—becoming one of “them.” If he didn’t place any importance on his wealth, he would never operate out of fear of losing it. The idea was that he would be free to make artistic choices based on inspiration rather than economic need. That his career had been so successful as to never need to challenge this model wasn’t something he thought about.
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
“You look like shite,” Conor said.
After weeks of getting the runaround, Conor had finally convinced Gavin to meet with him and the boys to at least talk about new music. Gavin had arrived almost an hour late. And high.
“Don’t like the haircut? Thought I might be pretty like you now,” Gavin replied, batting his eyelashes. He ran his hand over his short hair and grinned. Sophie had cleaned it up for him, evening it out as much as she could.
“Actually, it is an improvement,” Shay said with a laugh.
The shorter style had turned out to be a refreshing change after years of letting his wavy hair go longish. It was now clean cut and his blue eyes shone brightly, despite the circles beneath them.
“I gotta tell yous what happened to me this morning. I ran into a mate and we stopped to chat. This is a guy I’ve spent loads of time with over the past couple months, so I’m not expecting anything unusual. Then, all of a sudden, he fucking makes a play for me!”
The others laughed, amused by the scenario.
“You were asking for it, admit it, ya bloody poof!” Martin said.
“No, no,” Gavin protested. “I had no clue Jacob was that way. But today all of a sudden he’s rubbing my leg all seductive like.”
“What’d you do?” Martin asked.
“I was too put off to do anything really. Just told him he had the wrong man and to leave off that crap. Really odd, that.”
“Maybe it’s the new look you got going. How’d that come about?” Conor asked.
“Ah, I don’t know.”
Conor raised his eyebrows. “You don’t know?”
“I was partying with some mates, and I guess I passed out and they cut it all off for a laugh,” Gavin said.
“Good mates,” Conor said sarcastically. “These your coke buddies?”
“Just don’t you worry about all that,” Gavin said quickly.
“It is all true, then?” Shay said, eyeing Gavin’s gaunt face.
Gavin avoided looking at Shay. He had, in fact, avoiding seeing him these past few months, aware of how his drug use would especially affect him. Shay had dealt with such things at far too young an age when his brother, Danny, fell prey to heroin. Danny had become an addict, disappearing for long stretches at a time before resurfacing when he bottomed out. He would seek Shay’s emotional and financial help, get straight for a time, and eventually slip away again. The burden this placed on Shay was huge, but he never complained. Gavin, out of all of them, had been Shay’s support when he needed it over the years.
“Thought we were here to work?” Gavin said, unfolding a notebook stuffed with loose bits of paper.
“Haven’t seen you in forever, Gav,” Martin said. “You’ll have to excuse us if seeing you all fucked up on drugs is a bit alarming.”
“Well get over it.” Gavin smiled to temper the impatience in his voice.
“And what’s Sophie got to say about this?” Shay asked, looking at Conor.
“Why are you asking Conor that, Seamus?” Gavin asked. The already charged atmosphere in the room got even heavier.
“Maybe ’cause I’m the one she comes running to when things go bad,” Conor replied.
“Here’s an idea, stay out of my marriage,” Gavin said, his voice steely.
“What am I supposed to do next time? Turn her away? You are killing her with this coke shite. You know that? She used to be a beautiful, sweet girl. And you’re tearing her apart,” Conor said.
“You think you could make her happy, Con? Is that it? You think you’d be a better husband to her?” Gavin asked.
“I would never hurt her the way you are,” Conor said cagily.
“Then maybe you should have married her.”
“Maybe I should have.” Conor closed his eyes and shook his head.
Gavin stared at his friend. He knew Conor didn’t mean it like that. He was just looking out for Sophie, like he had for years. And Sophie needed caring for more than ever. Gavin wasn’t deluded enough to not see how he was hurting her. But still. Hearing Conor, the friend he had revered since they were kids, voice his disapproval so bluntly while asserting himself as the better man was hard to take. Without another word, he headed for the door, feeling all their eyes on his back as he went.
“You do know you said that out loud? The thing about being the one to marry Sophie?” Martin asked, trying to inject some levity into the situation.
“Give it a rest, Marty,” Shay said quickly.
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
Checking herself in the foyer mirror one last time, Sophie smoothed her hair into a sleek side part and headed for the front door. She wore a body hugging ivory pantsuit with alligator skin stilettos. The jacket was tight at the bust and cut wide and low around the neck and shoulders, revealing a sexy hint of an emerald green lace bra.
When she opened the door to leave, she was surprised to see Conor about to knock.
“Sophie,” he said. He stood straighter and took her in. “You look amazing.”
She smiled her thanks.
“Is he home?”
“No . . . not yet,” she said. “Listen, I have to run to the airport. I’m going to Paris for the day. Work.”
“We should talk. There are things I need to tell you,” he said. “I’ll drive you to the airport. How about that?”
She agreed, knowing there was no time to protest and they went to his car, a newly purchased silver Aston Martin DB9. Conor held the door open for her before joining her on the driver’s side.
“What’s in Paris?” he asked as they set off to the airport.
“My agent set up a meeting for us to talk to Lancôme. They’re interested in me being their new representative. I thought it would be a good way to phase out of modeling.”
“If you want to quit, why don’t you just stop? Why keep hanging on?”
“It’s what I d
o,” she replied. “I hang on, even if it’s not the best thing for me.”
He looked over at her and they exchanged a lengthy moment of silent understanding.
“Listen, I wanted to tell you that I asked Colette to marry me last night. She said yes.” He squinted at the road and shook his head. “Anyway, our plan right now is for me to move to New York. At least part of the time.”
“But, you can’t,” she said, unable to stop herself. She hadn’t expected Conor and Colette to last, let alone see them get married. And now that he was telling her he would be moving away, she realized how much she had come to rely on him.
“I won’t move until after we get the studio work done,” he continued. “The trick is getting Gavin to calm down some and work with us.”
All she could do was nod in agreement.
“So what did you mean when you said he wasn’t home yet? He went out early this morning?”
“Um,” she started and had to stop to clear her throat. “No, he didn’t come home last night. He might be back later this morning. Or he might be gone for a few days. I can’t say for sure.”
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “This is the way you’re living?”
She was silent, looking out the window. “When’s the wedding?” she asked at length.
“Nothing’s set. Tell the truth, this isn’t something I’ve thought long and hard about. I just feels like the right thing. Colette’s great. We’ll be good together.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you will,” Sophie said. “I’ll have to call Colette to congratulate her. Will she be in Dublin long?”
“Nah, she’s off again tomorrow.” Conor pulled into the outer limits of the airport, following the signs to departures. “While you’re making your congratulations, call Celia. She’s pregnant again. Almost four months on.”
Sophie felt an odd mixture of joy and jealousy for Celia and Martin at the news. They were a real family, much like she had envisioned for Gavin and herself so long ago.
“That’s great. They are blessed.” She stared out the window at the various airline terminals going by. “And Shay? How’s he doing?”
“Good. Remember when I played matchmaker with him and a waitress at a sushi restaurant in New York?”
Sophie remembered the story only vaguely. It had occurred right before the Vanity Fair article came out about Gavin’s mother.
“He’s still seeing her. Seems quite madly in love, actually. Her name’s Jessica and she’s a student at uni there.”
“That’s great. I am really happy for all of you,” Sophie said.
Conor pulled to a stop in front of her airline. He put the car in park, taking off his sunglasses as he turned toward her. “Sophie, I want you to be happy, too. I want so much for you to be the girl I once knew.”
She looked down and blinked away the tears in her eyes. “Am I that pathetic now?”
“You’ll never be that to me, honey. But you can do better for yourself right now and you know it.”
“Conor, I can’t leave him,” she said. “It’s out of the question.”
“Wait a minute,” he said, stopping her as she opened her door. “Tell me where he goes with these so-called friends of his.”
Sophie rattled off the few places she knew Gavin would go to get high and waste the night away.
“When you talk to him, know that he’s still hurting so much from all that’s happened. He’s turned into something he hates, but that doesn’t mean he knows how to make it stop.”
Conor smiled ruefully and shook his head. “You’re more than he deserves right now, Sophie.”
“He tells me that all the time,” she replied before getting out of the car.
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
Three days later, Sophie was packing Gavin’s extensive vinyl record collection in preparation for the move to their new home when there was a sharp rap on the door. Before she could go see who it was, Conor let himself in.
He looked grim and was holding several folded up papers in his hands.
“Have you seen the papers?” he asked without offering a hello.
“Um, no,” she said. “But it looks like you have.”
“I’m guessing you know that Gavin’s in London with Jackson?”
“Yeah. He finally got around to calling to let me know.” She sighed. “He told me he needed space from me. Guess you tracking him down the other night didn’t go well?”
“You could say that.”
Gavin had railed against her “selling him out” to Conor when he called, furious that she had told his friend where to find him. Of course, it was all her fault. And he used it to drive a deeper wedge between them. Whereas once he had needed her so desperately to help heal his wounds, he now seemed to enjoy telling her know she only made things worse for him. She was baffled by the change in the dynamic that had always worked for them. But at the same time, she stubbornly held to the belief that if she kept hanging on, Gavin would tire of this reckless behavior and then they could work on things together.
“Has no one contacted you about this?” Conor held up the papers.
Sophie sighed. Gavin’s phone call had been followed by Henri’s letting her know that Lancôme had passed on her due to her “controversial” personal image. It seemed that Gavin’s not so secret cocaine habit was reflecting on her. After that, she had silenced her cell phone and lost herself in the minutiae of packing.
“Just show it to me,” she said, holding out her hand for the papers.
Conor reluctantly passed them to her and watched as she took in each of the three cover stories. They varied little from one another, all focusing on a photo of Gavin receiving a lap dance from a stripper. The redheaded woman had her g-string covered pelvis pressed to his and her very large bare breasts were clear even though her nipples had been censored by black bars. What was also clear was that Gavin was enjoying himself as he held her to him, his hands firmly cupping her ass. His face was animated with raised eyebrows and a rakish smile.
The headlines all screamed the same kind of gleeful but tawdry accusation, “Gavin Caught Red-headed!” One of the papers claimed to have an interview with the stripper who would detail her night out with Gavin, including how he rated as a lover.
Sophie was detached as she took all this in. Her husband had indeed been caught doing something he shouldn’t have. It was distasteful and disrespectful. But it didn’t really mean anything more than that.
“So, he went to a strip club. But there’s nothing more to it,” she said, handing the papers back to Conor.
“You don’t know that, honey,” he said gently.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Gavin doesn’t cheat on me,” she said. “And when did you start believing tabloids anyway? You know they’re nothing but trash.”
He looked at her for a moment before saying, “They weren’t wrong about you and me.”
“There is no you and me,” she replied flatly.
“Yeah, you’re right. That was all nothing, wasn’t it?”
Sophie turned away. She didn’t have the energy to spar with him.
“Forget it,” he said. “I was trying to help, really. I thought you might want someone to talk to. But, let’s forget that. Just do me a favor?”
She looked back at him, her eyes hard. “What?”
“Make sure he uses a condom with you? Wouldn’t want to catch anything from your husband.”
“Don’t say that. You’re just being cruel now.”
“I’m being a friend and you know it.”
“What about being his friend?” she asked. “If he knew you were doing this, he’d—”
“Would you stop being so goddamn blind to all this?” he asked, incredulous.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Act like you’ve got some self-respect and leave!”
Sophie considered him for a moment and then she said the one thing she knew would push him away for good. “You’re just mad because this isn’t making me run into your arms.
”
The look of hurt on his face was undeniable. But it soon turned to anger. “You know what? I don’t need this shite. Fuck off and don’t come to me with your sad stories anymore.”
Sophie returned his stare, silent, until he realized there was nothing more to say. He threw the papers on the floor, turned, and left her home.
When she was sure he was gone, she scooped up the papers and methodically spread them out on the carpeted floor and devoured every word. When she read a quote from the stripper, Sammy, saying that her affair with Gavin was meant to be because he had a gold tattoo of the letter ‘S,’ she knew Gavin had betrayed her.
Conor telling her so hadn’t been enough. It was too awful to believe, let alone hear from someone who knew exactly how much it would hurt.
But now she had no choice. And as she sat alone in the house that was half-packed, she realized she had no one left to hold on to.
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
“You’re in for it with the wife,” Jackson said.
He and Gavin sat at the kitchen counter of Jackson’s penthouse apartment in London, trying to shake off hangovers with strong coffee and toast. Even with the skies overcast, light flooded into the space through the floor-to-ceiling windows and bounced off the predominately white and glass furniture. The bright light combined with their aching heads had them turning away from the spectacular view of the Thames.
“It’ll be okay,” Gavin said.
“Really? She doesn’t mind that sort of thing, then?”
“The point is, she will never leave me. I know that much.”
“What makes you worth it, do you suppose?” Jackson asked, genuinely curious.
“Not a goddamn thing. That’s the crime of it,” Gavin said. “She’s always seen some version of me that I don’t think I ever really lived up to. But she keeps waiting for me to, even though I don’t deserve it—or her.”
Jackson considered this brutal honesty for a moment. “So why don’t you try to?”
Tangled Up In You: A Rogue Series Novel Page 28