How he wished it were that easy. If he could bury all that he had come to want and need and simply return to his wife and family, it would be the path of least resistance. But it would also be burying his own happiness. He was so close to moving on, moving toward a new version of himself. He couldn’t go backward.
“I haven’t been happy,” he told her as gently as he could. “For a long while now. I just didn’t allow myself to really acknowledge it. I need to be on my own.”
“You don’t know what you need,” she snapped. “I’m the one who has always provided you with everything you need.”
“Yes, I know. You’ve long told anyone who would listen that you had four children.”
“And isn’t that so? I’m the one who manages your life. Not James. And certainly not you. You wouldn’t know what to do without me putting clean clothes in your closet or a beer in your hand—”
“If that’s true—”
“Of course it’s true! Just look at the mess you’ve made of your life in the month without me! Look at how your reputation is in the toilet because I wasn’t minding you! You went off and became just like your sleazy bandmates!”
She had always had snide things to say about his bandmates, but he’d never thought it was anything more than her tendency to cast judgment on others. He thought it was a surface-level commentary, not anything she really believed. After all, she knew these men almost as long as he did. Didn’t she share his belief that they were fallible but ultimately good people? His time with them in Los Angeles only reinforced this conviction. The lazy days spent in each other’s company with no touring commitment had been a bonding experience that harkened back to their carefree teenage days. It was a reminder that these people were his friends and would do anything for him. There was no point in getting sidetracked into arguing about that now, however.
“If that’s true,” he repeated, “then I’ll have to learn to figure things out for myself. Because I won’t be staying here. In fact, I’ve leased a house very nearby. It doesn’t have any furniture yet, but I’m working on that so the boys can stay with me as often as you’ll allow.”
“I don’t understand. I don’t understand.” She looked crestfallen now. Her fit of anger was gone as she realized she couldn’t bully him into staying. “You love me,” she said, almost willing him to agree to the statement.
“You are the only woman I’ve ever loved, Celia,” he confirmed. She should know that and hopefully take comfort in it. What they had wasn’t perfect, but it was real. He had loved her. He just didn’t love her anymore, and hadn’t in a long time. But he wouldn’t tell her that. If she didn’t realize that now, she would in her own time. There was no point in saying it other than to be cruel.
“Then, stay. Don’t walk away.”
“I can’t just go back to the way it was. It would be a lie.”
“Then lie,” she said. “Just lie to yourself until you get over whatever this is.”
He locked eyes with her, unsure how to respond to this desperate entreaty.
“Now’s the time for you to be a man, Marty,” she continued. “Now’s the time for you to be a proper husband and just do what you need to do for your family’s sake. Don’t you see that?”
“We’re past that point.” He paused before telling her, “We’ve run our course.”
Shaking her head, she crossed her arms over her chest and let the tears fall from her eyes. Streaks of black mascara trailed down her cheeks.
He stepped closer to her and cupped her cheek in his hand. “I’m so sorry that it’s come to this. But we made beautiful children. And you are an amazing mother. I honest to god hope we can be friendly as we raise our boys together.”
As much as he meant them, these words couldn’t smooth over the fact that he was leaving her. She ducked away from his hand and turned her back to him.
“I’m going to take the boys to dinner,” he said. “Should I tell them or do you want to be there?”
“This is all your doing. You tell them,” she said quietly, defeated.
Her response didn’t surprise him. He had played out exactly what he would say to the boys over and over again. He was ready.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Felicity felt like she’d had a permanent smile on her face for the last two weeks. She even woke in the morning with a smile, cheeks aching from holding the happy expression for so long. It was all due to having a secret. Two secrets, actually.
The first was the fact that the impossible had happened: she was pregnant.
After Sophie suggested that might be the case, Felicity was grumpy. She had spent years trying to accept the fact that she was infertile. To have her good friend tamper with the delicate balance of acceptance she’d managed was upsetting. Compounding her disagreeable mood was Conor’s public reunion with Colette. The images and video made it clear how easily Colette could still play with Conor. He had come very close to crossing a line of no return before finally rebuffing her. Colette, of course, was quick to put her own spin on the encounter. She had posted a short video to her Instagram account. The video showed her wrapping her arms around Conor’s neck and he’d seemed receptive to her touch. Then she was seen walking away after they exchanged a few words. Without sound, it looked like she had reeled him in, then tossed him back. She’d added the hashtag #CatchAndRelease, along with the purple devil emoji for good measure. The post was closing in on two million likes.
Already emotional, Felicity had shut down and retreated to the bedroom they were using in Los Angeles. As she lay in bed, she meditated to pull herself together. After a time, she felt calmer and began to think about how her body felt. The symptoms she had told Sophie about—fatigue, nausea, tender breasts—were all classic early pregnancy indicators. Though she would be devastated to get her hopes up, she slowly let down her guard against the idea that it might have, against all odds, happened.
She had just begun searching for local doctors with the idea that it couldn’t hurt to get a thorough checkup when she fell asleep. Upon waking from her nap, she had the most intense sensation of certainty that she was pregnant. When Conor climbed into bed with her, contrite and apologetic for his misstep with Colette, she was happy to let it go. She knew where Conor’s heart was.
The following day, she left everyone at the house with an excuse about wanting to shop for a new laptop. With nerves making her whole body tremble, she went to a doctor’s office in West Hollywood. The warm reception by the staff was appreciated, but she wasn’t able to relax until the doctor came in to see her with the results of her urine test.
“So,” Dr. Hammel started, “whoever said you couldn’t conceive owes you an apology.”
Felicity stared at the doctor. She was a tall, athletic woman in her mid-fifties with a kind manner that included real eye contact and patience in listening to Felicity’s infertility history.
“What this means, Felicity, is that you are pregnant. By your numbers and the dates you gave me, I’d guess about nine weeks.”
“You couldn’t, I mean, couldn’t the test be wrong?” Felicity blurted out.
Dr. Hammel smiled. “Let’s take a better look at things with a sonogram, shall we?”
And so Felicity had lain back on the table and submitted to the test that would show her irrefutable proof of her pregnancy, including the beating heart of the baby she was carrying. The doctor had been thorough with checking that the fetus was developing normally, giving Felicity every assurance along the way. Felicity felt only half-present as this went on. It was too hard to wrap her mind around this amazing good fortune, which the doctor described as something she had seen before. She said she had seen an infertile couple break up over the stress of what they were going through, only to find their next relationship more fruitful.
“It really just comes down to the right mix of chemistry,” Dr. Hammel said with a laugh. “Rather than being infertile, the couple’s sperm and egg are just incompatible, for lack of a more scientific explanation.
But when a better match is found, nature takes over.”
When Felicity left the office, she was still trembling, but this time out of the most intense burst of happiness she had ever known. She was pregnant. The father of her baby was a man she loved deeply. And she knew he would be a fantastic partner. Hadn’t they already—at least on paper—become parents together when they signed the paperwork for adopting a baby? That process was underway and would mean they would soon have two newborns. Rather than fear this unexpected reality, Felicity was overwhelmed by giddiness. It was an absurd amount of riches to be suddenly faced with. And yet, she couldn’t wait to be elbows-deep into the exhaustion, and diapers, and sleepless nights that were sure to come, because she was confident that the joys of motherhood would outweigh all that. That maternal instinct she worried she might lack had already begun to kick in.
But out of caution, she decided to wait a few more weeks before telling Conor the news. She didn’t want him to get his hopes up when the pregnancy was still in the early stages. And she didn’t want this to push him into proposing. Ever since she had given him the green light to ask her to marry him, she’d been on edge thinking he would surprise her with some big gesture. But the days passed by uneventfully and she began to think he had instead settled into complacency with the way things were. She would be happy either way, but if he were to propose, she didn’t want it to be because of the baby.
It would turn out that she kept the secret for only one week. It was after Conor pulled off the most amazingly romantic grand gesture that she knew it was the right time to tell him he would be a father.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Upon leaving Los Angeles after their stay with Gavin and Sophie, Conor and Felicity boarded a private plane bound toward home. It was a late afternoon flight, and being more tired than usual anyway, Felicity fell asleep for the duration after she and Conor watched a movie together. Waking not long before they were due to land, Felicity was confused to look out the window and see not the green fields of Ireland, but blue ocean and rugged brown terrain.
She turned to look at Conor and found he had been watching her. It was true what she had told him. He was pretty. And incredibly handsome. Since allowing herself the idea that she might be pregnant, she looked at him anew, imagining what traits their child might take on. She hoped the baby would eventually have his blue eyes, thick lashes, and high cheekbones. With a father like Conor Quinn, the child was bound to be beautiful.
“Have we gotten lost?” she asked with a laugh.
“More like sidetracked, honey,” Conor told her. “I wasn’t ready to end our time in the sun, so I thought a few days more would be nice.”
“And where are we?”
“Back to Formentera.”
Formentera is part of the Balearic Islands of Spain and where they had gone on holiday the year before. The understated yet luxurious villa they stayed in was in a secluded part of the island, with staggering views of the deep blue sea and a private trail down to the water.
“Staying in the same villa?” she asked hopefully. Despite one emotional evening, they had had a fantastic time there. It was the perfect relaxation spot and the thought of being there alone together after a week in a house full of others sounded divine.
“In fact, yes, it is.”
“Well done, CQ,” she told him.
She would soon find out he had done even better than she thought. Upon their arrival to the villa, they found that just as with their first visit, discreet staff had set the scene with champagne and chocolates, along with open French doors to free the sheer curtains to billow in the warm breeze.
“You didn’t buy this place, did you?” she asked. He had mentioned buying it so they could return any time they liked but never talked about the idea again.
“No,” he told her. “Not yet, anyway.”
While he disappeared with their bags into the bedroom, she was drawn toward the back garden. Her memory of it included both an outdoor shower and a soaker tub, as well as a plunge pool to cool off from the dry heat, all set among lemon trees and rosemary bushes. They had eaten all their meals at a rustic wooden table under a pergola. Evenings had been lit by soft amber twinkle lights and hanging Italian bulbs. But when she looked at it now, she saw that the table was gone and the pergola was decorated entirely in white flowers.
With a gasp, she moved toward it to examine the decoration. Touching one of the pomegranate flowers, she found that they were real and fragrant. Someone had put a lot of effort into transforming this structure.
She turned around and saw Conor standing before her. He was smiling in that way that had surely seduced hundreds of women. That smile was confidence and raw sex. It was him.
“Felicity, my love,” he said, and she immediately teared up.
It wasn’t her hormones, it was the certainty that she knew what was to come. He had brought her here, alone, and with simple, uncontrived fanfare, to propose. It was perfect already and he had said no more than three words.
He reached out and took her hand, rubbing his thumb over her skin. “I had wanted to come up with a grand idea for this. Something spectacular, like a bloody marching band and fireworks,” he told her with a laugh. “But the more I thought of you and us, I realized you deserve romance of the intimate sort. The kind that is less to do with the wonder for your eyes and more the wonder for your heart.”
“Oh, Conor,” she said in a whisper, trying to keep herself together.
“I hope I’m right with this.”
She nodded vigorously, unable to say more and he laughed.
“Honey, it took me a while, but I have learnt what love is. Love is you. It’s everything you’ve given me and taught me—and pushed me to learn. You are everything love should be. You are open, and giving, and honest. Sometimes brutally honest,” he said, and now she laughed. “But that’s how it should be. You’ve shown me more love than I’ve ever known. Every day with you is more than I thought I had the right to ask for. I want to learn to love you as well as you have loved me. For the rest of our lives.” He opened his free hand so she could see the rose gold band with diamonds set in a vintage style. “Will you give me that profound honor? Will you marry me, Felicity?”
All she could do for a moment was gulp in air. His proposal was the most perfect moment in her life, and she wanted to swallow it whole so she would never forget a second.
“Yes. Yes, sweetheart, yes,” she told him.
He smiled wide and slipped the ring on her finger. “I love you, honey. You know this isn’t to trap you, right? It’s because I’m done playing games, and I want nothing more than to commit to a life with you.”
She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. “Yes, I know. I know.”
“Good. Because I have one more question.”
Pulling away, she looked at him with confusion.
“We have the option to get married now. Here. I can have someone here in five minutes.”
“Now?”
“Listen, I know you aren’t thrilled to do the whole ceremony thing again. So, I thought, we could do this now. Just you and me. And maybe we could do some sort of party later with everyone?”
A fresh wave of tears filled her eyes. It was the perfect suggestion. She had been married before, complete with the big church wedding and white dress with a long train. She had no desire to do that sort of thing all over again. That Conor had arranged this proposal and also somehow could make the wedding happen was not only the grandest romantic gesture he could have made, but also the sign of how well he knew her. He was also willing to forego having his friends and family at his wedding for her.
“You can say no to doing it now,” he told her. “Honest to god, my feelings won’t be hurt.”
“Yes, let’s do it now,” she said.
“Yes?”
With a hand on the back of his neck, she pulled him to her for a long, slow kiss. “Yes.” This would be her second secret. Soon enough, only she and Conor would know both
secrets and that was thrilling.
CHAPTER FIFTY
The sun was starting to descend when they said their simple vows under the flower-covered pergola. Their priest was from the village’s Catholic church. Their witness was the woman tasked with stocking and cleaning their villa. Neither spoke very much English, but the small circle they created for the occasion was all love.
The ceremony was brief and sweet, culminating in the exchange of the wedding bands Conor had purchased and a lingering kiss. Once they bid their guests goodbye, they grabbed the champagne and glasses and walked down the hill to the beach.
They had the sand to themselves as the sun cast an orange-yellow glow on the water.
“I think this deserves a toast,” he told her as he filled the glasses.
“It certainly does,” she replied. “But, I don’t think I’ll have any.”
“No?”
“I really shouldn’t.”
He shrugged off her reluctance. “Will you take my name? Felicity Quinn sounds good, doesn’t it?”
“Not bad.”
“Not bad? It’s brilliant.”
She laughed. “It’s a good name for our children.”
“We don’t even have the first one yet and you’re planning on the next?” he asked with a laugh.
“Well, that’s the funny thing.”
“What is?”
“So, while you were planning this amazing day and hiding it from me, I was hiding something from you.”
“I don’t think I like where this is headed.”
“No, you will. It’s a good thing. An amazing thing, actually.”
“Yes?”
She could see that he was tense and so she didn’t want to drag this out too long. “Conor, about a week ago, I went to a doctor.”
“And?” he asked quickly.
“And she confirmed a miracle. I’m pregnant.”
Finding Rhythm (Rogue Rockstar Series Book 4) Page 22