She didn’t make it easy, though, when she pulled him down on top of her, guided him inside her, and wrapped her legs around his waist. This wasn’t the animalistic sex he’d been having since Ashley. This was an intense connection, with a woman who made him feel she was wholly invested in him. Or at least the experience.
“Yes,” she whispered. It was the only thing she would say as he made love to her, but he’d replay it in his mind for days afterward. Her voice in that one word was complete acceptance mixed with desire, and it was what he had been craving for longer than he’d realized until that moment.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
Martin spent the following weeks trying to establish both his home and his new routine with the boys. He wanted them to feel a sense of stability and was happy to find they were resilient and not too traumatized by their new living situation.
After making love to Lainey that night, they’d lain in bed together, talking in the intimate way they had established from the start. It was so easy to confess their secrets, likely because they had once more agreed that they wouldn’t be seeing each other again. Lainey told him about the relentless media attention after their time together in Los Angeles, and how even her co-star of the movie she was currently filming had made sexist innuendos about her turning into a rock star groupie.
“I’m sorry I caused all that,” Martin told her.
“No, it’s okay. It’s actually made me realize I’m far stronger now.”
“Stronger how?”
She confessed that in her younger years, this kind of media attention would have made her want to run away, to seek ways to stop from feeling all the pressure and go numb. But that had led to self-harm, first with the underage drinking and acting out, then with experimenting with cutting.
Martin had noticed the small scars on the inside of her upper thighs when they were playing in the pool at the Los Angeles house but hadn’t said anything. She admitted as they lay tangled together in bed at The Savoy that it was from her very brief period of trying to break through the overwhelming feeling she had of numbness. She said it was not long after she tried it that she had disappeared, spending months at a holistic health center in central California before finding her way into a normal life of a student.
“And you’ve managed since then?” he asked.
“I have. I’ve figured out how to manage my life, to control things.”
“Brilliant. Happy to hear it.”
“How was it seeing your boys?” she asked.
He smiled at the thought of them, remembering how amazing it felt to have them rush at him with hugs. “The best thing in the world.”
And then he told her how Celia had been willing to forgive him everything and take him back, all for the sake of keeping their family together. He told her how guilty he felt for not wanting to make the same sacrifice. Not giving in and returning to his marriage for the sake of his kids had been the hardest thing he had ever done. Seeing the look of hurt on Celia’s face had hurt him in return, right down to his core. He hated that he was responsible for her pain.
“But, really, in the end, we’re all responsible for our own happiness,” Lainey said.
“I believe that. It’s exactly what I’m after for myself. But I also believe I’m the one who has been responsible for the hurt she rightly feels.”
“Are you sure you’re really done? Sounds like you have reservations,” Lainey said.
There she was again, pushing him on the idea that he wasn’t really ready to leave his marriage—despite the fact that he had put it as plainly to her that he could, more than once, that that wasn’t the case. “Not at all,” he said. “See, I told her I didn’t want to be married. I said I didn’t want to work on our relationship. So, what I have is guilt because of my lack of reservations.
“But yet,” she said and touched the ring he still wore.
He held up his hand and studied the gold band he had worn for eleven years. There were very few occasions where he had taken it off. But now was the time to do so. Well, not while he was in bed with another woman, but now that he had made it clear to Celia he was done. Still, he hesitated and couldn’t explain why.
“I’m getting there,” he said with a sigh.
“See, this is exactly why you should reconsider being my lover. You’re not really free. And I don’t want a relationship. It’s perfect. No pressure, no drama.”
He smiled, because he didn’t believe her. He didn’t believe that she only wanted the physical connection, not after the kind of time they had spent together. It had been meaningful time, not “hookups.” But he could see that she believed her own rationalization. She needed to—for whatever her own reasons were.
Turning on his side to face her, he told her softly, “Bullshit.”
She laughed in surprise. “What—”
“You may have convinced yourself this solitary life you’ve created with the occasional ‘lover’ in the mix is enough. But I think you want more.”
“I want sex, Martin. And I’m not afraid to admit it. Don’t make the mistake of thinking this is anything more.”
There would be no use in trying to convince her of his point, he could see that. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer. He would let her off the hook in favor of taking what he could get. And at this point, it was what she claimed she wanted—just the connection of their bodies.
“Well, I did promise I’d fuck you,” he said with a rakish smile.
“You did, didn’t you?” she replied, brow arched.
It was just beginning to get light out when Martin left. Lainey had been sleeping, and so he grabbed his clothes and took them to the living room to dress quietly. Eyeing the discarded wildflowers on the coffee table, he hesitated on his next move. Finally, he grabbed the flowers and threw them in the wastebasket near a small desk. The desk was clean except for a pad of paper and a pen. He scratched out a few words and left the note where the flowers had been:
Maybe one day we’ll be on the same page. Until then, take care of yourself, Lainey.
The plane ride home was a bittersweet reenactment of his drive after their Santa Barbara afternoon together. Spending time with Lainey made him happier than he had been in months. She was intelligent, complex, and challenging—not to mention fantastic in bed. He wanted more of her. He wanted the time to get to know her better, especially why she had now repeatedly stated that he wasn’t done with his marriage. But she had also repeatedly sent him on his way, with no promise of seeing him again—at least not on terms he would accept.
He didn’t have much time to wallow in his disappointment, though, as he threw himself into practical matters for his family. And then Gavin and Conor were ready to go back to studio, and life got busy again.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
“This is ridiculous,” Gavin said, throwing up his hands.
“Just calm down and listen once more,” Shay said. He was speaking via an iPad FaceTime connection.
Conor and Martin stood alongside Gavin in the studio, their instruments at the ready as they tried to follow along with the beat Shay was guiding them on from his home in San Francisco.
Shay started again, hitting the skins of his drum kit crisply, his sticks a blur as he created a relentless rhythm. “And this is where Marty comes in,” he said, his voice raised as he kept going.
“No, this is where you fucking get on a plane and come here,” Gavin said. He was done with this long-distance nonsense.
Shay stopped drumming. “I’m on my way tomorrow,” he said. “You’re the bastards who insisted on starting without me.”
“Hang on, lads,” Martin said. “I think I’ve got the transition.” He thumbed at his bass guitar and the result was a seductive bassline, syncing perfectly with what Shay had offered. And then he deviated slightly, taking it to a funkier tone that made you want to move your hips along with it.
“That’s good, Marty,” Conor said. He nodded at Gavin. The gesture was all that was req
uired to get his friend to lighten up.
They spent almost two hours going back and forth in this way, hammering out the barebones of something new. Finally, Shay had to sign off. He was still in San Francisco because the students of Jessica’s school were having a recital, and he was committed to being there to support her.
The timing worked well for a late dinner break. They were in the same studio they had used since their first album, It Could Be Now, was first recorded. The space on the northside of Dublin had seen recording technology improvements over the years, but still somehow managed to retain the odor of greasy takeaway, weed, and sweat. To Gavin and the boys, though, it smelled like home.
Gavin had been the one eager to get back into studio. With Sophie pregnant again, he was feeling a sense of urgency about everything. Since becoming a father, his relationship with time had changed. It had accelerated, leaving him with the feeling that his chance to create a lasting legacy—both musically and personally—was fleeting. He wanted to leave a body of work that his kids could be proud of, and be around long enough to raise them until adulthood. He had never thought once about his mortality when he had been deep into cocaine addiction, but now it came racing at him at the most unexpected times. In response, he worked himself up into such anxiety about it that he ended up paralyzed. Those moments usually happened in the dead of night when Sophie and Daisy were sleeping. Sophie told him he was worrying too much, that his focus on it would take away from enjoying the present. He knew she was right, and he was trying to strike a balance, but he hadn’t yet found it.
Calling upon his mentor, Christian Hale, for advice on this topic hadn’t helped. Gavin had reached Christian at his home in Sunshine Beach, Australia, and found he was in one of his down times. Prone to depression, Christian had claimed that surfing was his remedy. That didn’t stop him from the occasional bout that knocked him down. He had only answered the phone because it was Gavin, the friend he loved like a brother.
Gavin hadn’t troubled Christian with his comparatively insignificant woes, and instead implored him to make a visit to Dublin. He told him he was ready to go into studio and could use his feedback. Christian said all the right things about loving the idea of getting to see everyone, but it was clear his heart wasn’t in it. It had left Gavin feeling unsettled and helpless. But it wasn’t the first time his friend had gone through this.
Finally, Sophie suggested Gavin talk to Conor about it. Before their falling out, he wouldn’t have hesitated to go to Conor looking for guidance. But he had become much more selective with sharing things with him now, still wary about being as close with him as he once had. He had good reason to hold back, after all, with Conor having betrayed him by sleeping with Sophie. Though he had chosen to move on and regain their friendship, it was still a challenge to take that last extra step that would take them back to the way they used to be. Gavin realized Sophie had an ulterior motive in trying to get him to consult Conor the way he once had. She wanted the two friends to be on the same good path that they had found in moving forward in their marriage. But Gavin was skeptical that could happen—until he broke down and gave it a chance late that night in studio after everyone else had gone.
It had actually been Conor who opened the door by sharing his life-changing news.
“You still on for this dinner thing Felicity and I are doing for everyone tomorrow?” Conor asked.
They were lounging on the worn out sofas behind the mixing console, drinking Guinness and sharing a joint to unwind from the long day of little progress.
“Yeah, sure,” Gavin said. He hadn’t thought much about the invitation Conor had made when he’d returned from Formentera.
“Cool.” Conor took a long pull on his Guinness. “So, em, the reason for the dinner is to share a bit a news with our nearest and dearest. But I’m glad we have a minute here so I can tell you before the others.”
Gavin finished off the joint and held the smoke. Upon exhaling, he asked, “What is it?”
“Well, on our trip to Formentera, I asked Felicity to marry me. She said yes. And so we went ahead and got married there. Just the two of us.”
The revelation was a surprise. Not that Conor had proposed—Gavin had helped him pick out the ring, so he knew that was coming. That his friend had gotten married with no one else there, not even his own parents, was a surprise.
“Congratulations," he said. "But why the hurry, without anyone there?”
“For Felicity. To make it as easy as possible on her. You know, she’s gun-shy after the way her first marriage ended. She was happy enough to just leave things as they were with us. I was the one who wanted to make it official. Wanted her to really understand that she is the absolute love of my life.”
Gavin’s first instinct was to think Conor was making this point for his behalf, to make clear once and for all that he was over Sophie. But when he examined his friend, he realized he wasn’t playing any games. He was genuine.
“And then she surprised me,” Conor said.
“Yeah?”
“Turns out she’s pregnant. Against all odds, but it’s well along now. Three months.”
Gavin laughed, delighted by the unexpected news. “That’s great, man. Everything is falling into place, then, isn’t it?”
“Seems a bit too good to be true. It’s why we decided to keep it to ourselves for a little bit. Tomorrow is the big reveal, as it were.”
“I’m happy for you both. Truly.”
Conor nodded and smiled, and they sat in silence for a time. And then, because they had already begun a confessional conversation, Gavin launched into telling his friend about the anxiety he’d been feeling. Conor listened without interrupting, and when Gavin was done, they sat in silence once again.
Finally, Conor took a deep breath and said, “You know you’re the same age now as your mother was when she left?”
Gavin was perplexed by what seemed like a non sequitur. “And?”
“And you’re going to have another child. The weight of that, along with this similarity of your age—the age at which she decided it was too much for her—”
“For fuck’s sake, I’m not about to abandon my family, Conor!”
“I’m not saying that,” Conor insisted. “I think you’re an amazing dad. You and Sophie are solid—you’ve got everything, and I know you’d never fuck it up. It just seems to me it might have triggered something.” He paused. “I could be completely wrong, though.”
With a shake of his head, Gavin slumped back against the sofa and closed his eyes. What kind of psychoanalytical bullshit was Conor pulling? As he tried to understand what was behind this theorizing, the bigger picture came to light. He realized that there was no one in his life who knew the details about his mother abandoning him better than Conor did—not even Sophie, because she hadn’t been there when it happened. Conor was the friend who had been his lifeline when he’d needed it most. He was the one who had listened, and obviously absorbed it all, as Gavin recounted every miserable detail about his mother—including what her age had been at the time.
So, Conor’s suggestion that Gavin’s bouts of anxiety were linked to a subconscious realization that he was the same age as his mother had been when she left was probably sound. And it had come without any agenda other than to help him see things clearer. The tightness in his chest he’d felt for the last few weeks was starting to dissipate, now that he could see the correlation to his mother. It wasn’t that he worried he might follow in her footsteps, but more that being at the age she’d been when she left stirred up the anxiety and incomprehension of what she had done. Now a father, he had no clue how she could have walked away. The enduring problem was that he knew he would never get an answer that made sense.
“Fuck,” Gavin said with a sigh. “You’re probably right—as usual.”
Conor raised his eyebrows and tilted his head, accepting the compliment but not gloating.
All at once, Gavin realized how much he had missed Conor’s friendship.
They had been on good terms for a couple years now, but the absolute closeness they had once shared had been lacking. Tonight proved what he had always known—Conor was a good man. He had given up having a real wedding in order to make Felicity happy. He had seen right through to the cause of Gavin’s issues and helped him recognize it as well. Those things said a lot about the kind of person he was.
“Well, it’s early yet—and you know I’m not one for the religious part of this,” Gavin said, “but I hope you’ll be our baby’s godfather.”
Conor met this invitation with an expression of deep relief. Gavin was glad that his friend understood what he was really offering: forgiveness.
“I’d be grateful for the privilege. And I hope you’ll do us the honor in return. Doubly so, actually.”
“What’s that mean?”
“The adoption is still on. We’ll have two newborns by late spring of next year.”
Gavin smiled, and then laughed. “Jesus, we really better get to making music while we can.”
“We’re here, aren’t we?” Conor grinned as he stood.
It was two in the morning, but they walked back into Studio B where their guitars were and got back to work.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
There was some sort of scuffle going on at the baggage claim, and Shay wondered how he might avoid it while also being able to grab his bag. And then he realized who was at the center of the crowd.
“I will go nowhere! This is my service dog!” Danny Boy shouted.
“Welcome home,” Shay murmured to himself before going to break things up.
Of course Danny Boy had brought along his dog, Roscoe, to pick Shay up at the airport. Not that Shay had asked his brother to come. Danny Boy claimed he was trying to “earn his keep” with this favor, but had predictably screwed things up. They managed to get out of the airport and on their way home without too much hassle.
Finding Rhythm (Rogue Rockstar Series Book 4) Page 24