“Let me ask you something,” he said. “Do you talk with these lovers of yours the way you do with me?”
“What do you mean?”
“The things you’ve told me—and the things I’ve told you—they feel like things you wouldn’t share with just anyone.”
“Uh, no, there usually isn’t a lot of conversation with them. Because they follow the rules.”
“Ah, yes, the rules. That’s exactly the thing I’ve been working on going against. I spent a lot of years going along with what others wanted. I’m on a mission to have equal footing.”
She was quiet for a long moment, her water-wrinkled fingers still entwined with his. “I know you are. It’s a good thing.”
What was left unspoken was that they still weren’t on the same page. He wanted more than she was willing to give. And there was nothing he could do about it.
The water sloshed as she turned around to face him. “I’ve broken my own rules with you—as much as I can. I hope you know that.”
She almost felt within his grasp, like she wanted to let go of the limits she had imposed upon herself and give in to something more. But as close as they felt in that moment, and later when she fell asleep in his arms, he still woke alone.
This time he was the one to find a note:
Thanks for visiting me, Martin. Until the next time—take care of yourself.
The brush-off stung. Lainey had said she had this day free for sightseeing, which meant she had left her own hotel room in order to give him the clear message that she was done. It was especially cruel after how they had revealed themselves to each other the night before.
Martin stood in the living area, wearing only underwear. He had stumbled out of bed when he realized he was alone, only to find the note on the living area coffee table. His anger grew as he re-read the note. Grabbing his phone, he sat on the sofa and called Lainey. He was surprised when she answered.
“Where are you?” he asked.
“Did you see my note?” she returned.
“The one dismissing me? I did. That took a lot of balls, Lainey.”
“I’m just being honest—”
“That’s your fallback line, isn’t it? Your honesty. But it’s bullshit—”
“Please don’t do this.”
“You’re not being honest about the fact that you and I have something. I feel it in the way you look at me and speak to me. The way you hear me. I know it by the time we’ve spent together. You can’t deny that it’s been a real connection just because you’re just too afraid to give it a chance.”
“This is my choice. You can’t force your way into a relationship.”
“That’s not what I want. I don’t want to force anything. Other than the truth from you. I just want you to admit that this—us—has been real.”
“Look, I’m sorry if I let this go too far. But the truth is that there’s nothing more here than two adults having a good time.”
Martin closed his eyes. “You know, I wish that’s what it had been. I wish it had been all about fucking.” He opened his eyes and stared at the impersonal note she had written. “But you know that’s not the truth. This is just how you want to play it. I see that now. Best of luck to you then, yeah?”
He disconnected the call. He wanted to scream. He wanted to trash the hotel room.
But he did neither. Instead, he got dressed and started out the door. Stopping short, he turned back and wrote his own note:
Lainey, I don’t want to force anything. But I do want you. Get in touch when you’re ready to take a chance on us. We’ll figure out the rest as we go. Until then, take care of yourself.
That was all he could do. He put his heart out there. Now it was her move.
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
The silence from Lainey was deafening. Martin wondered if the published photos of them in Prague were to blame. They hadn’t noticed at the time, but someone had taken photos of them looking very friendly during their dinner and walk, including shots of them entering her hotel hand in hand. The accompanying articles labeled Lainey as Martin’s mistress, furthering the “homewrecker” storyline the press had glommed onto after their Los Angeles meeting.
The stories made Martin cringe. He felt like he could do nothing right with his love life. It always turned into some sordid scandal. All he wanted was to be on even ground, to find a rhythm to his life. But every time he moved forward, he felt like he was pushed back harder.
It was through the tabloids that he learned Lainey had wrapped her brief filming in Prague and had arrived back in Los Angeles. He missed her. He missed the possibility of her. But weeks went by with no word, and he had to fight the urge to reach out to her.
And then Christmas was upon them, and Martin was glad to focus entirely on his family. The boys had school performances and wish lists a mile long, so there was plenty to do. Celia invited him over for dinner so that they could talk about who was giving which gift. The boys’ faces as they all sat at their old family dining table together showed how happy they were. It made it hard not to fall into the familiar pattern of how they used to be together. He caught Celia’s eye at one point and could see she felt the same thoughts about going back in time. It had been easy then, when he’d simply gone along with the routine of his life.
And when Sean insisted that Martin tuck him into bed, he recited his usual whispered prayers a little louder so that it was clear when he added, “And please let my Daddy live here with us once more.”
With that guilt-inducing plea in his head, he went downstairs and found Celia in the kitchen. She was leaning against the countertop, a glass of white wine in her hand as she stared vacantly at some middle-distance.
“They’re all tucked in,” Martin told her.
Looking at him with a start, Celia stood straight. “Oh, good. Thanks for that.”
“No need to thank me. They’re my kids.”
She nodded. “Wine? Or something else?”
He hesitated but only for a moment. “You have any of that whiskey I had here? The Method & Madness one?”
Of course she knew right where to find it. Orderly to a fault. She poured him two fingers worth and they took their drinks to the living room, as natural as the days when they had been content with each other. As had been their routine, she took the armchair and he spread out on the sofa opposite her.
“How’s Sean been?” he asked.
“Fine. Well, I suppose you know about the nightmares?”
Martin leaned forward and stared at her. “Nightmares?”
“Doesn’t he have them at your place?” When he shook his head, she continued, “Probably two or three times a week, he wakes up screaming bloody murder. He can never say what they were about. He’s just . . . unsettled, I guess.”
“I hate hearing that.”
“And Colm, he’s had a couple of accidents.”
“Accidents?”
She smiled, but it was strained. “With missing getting to the toilet on time.”
“Oh. I see.”
“I’m sure it will work itself out.”
“Would it help if I came over here more, do you think?”
“I do, actually. They might feel more secure that their family isn’t broken up.”
Martin nodded. He took a drink of the whiskey, enjoying the clean flavor and subtle burn as it went down. “And how’ve you been, Cee?”
“Surviving,” she said.
“Can you ever forgive me for how things went? I hope you can,” he said quickly. “It really was the last thing I wanted, to hurt you like that. I just fucked everything up because I didn’t know how to sort things out.”
She watched him for a long moment, and he guessed she wasn’t sure what his intention was. When he maintained eye contact, she saw there was no ulterior motive. He really was sorry.
“I can work on it, Marty,” she said.
He breathed a sigh of relief. “I’d be grateful.”
They sat together in silence and dra
nk. It was comfortable. Celia had Christmas music playing—old standards like Frank Sinatra, Bing Crosby, and Eartha Kitt. The fire was starting to die, and Martin got up and stoked it. Sitting back down, he finished his drink and felt his body go warm with it.
“The boys said you have a new tattoo in their honor,” Celia said.
“Ay, I do.”
“Could I see it?”
“Em, yeah, sure.” He straightened and pulled his long-sleeve shirt up.
It took him aback when he saw her eyes scan his bare torso. There was desire in the way she surveyed him. He couldn’t remember the last time that happened. And then she leaned closer to him as she examined the tattoo.
“Oh, Marty,” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. She laughed with astonishment. “I actually love it. Like really love it.”
Martin laughed with her. “We’ll get you one just like it, babe,” he said. The endearment had come so naturally that it took him a second to register that he’d said it. He pulled his shirt back down and leaned against the cushions.
“Another drink?” she asked.
“Why not? It’s Christmas,” he said. “And I’m only four blocks away in case I need to walk.”
“That’s true.”
While she took both of their empty glasses to the kitchen, he stared into the fire. It was seductive being there, sharing a drink with his estranged wife while his kids were sleeping. It was a taste of what they had enjoyed once upon a time, before he decided it wasn’t enough. But this moment felt so good that he started to doubt that judgment. Weren’t his kids the whole point? Wasn’t making a marriage work what he had committed to all those years ago? That feeling that he had been incredibly selfish in leaving her came rushing forward again.
“Here you are,” Celia said as she returned with fresh drinks.
Instead of taking the armchair once more, she sat next to him. She had returned to her normal, sedate style after her failed attempt at seducing him with too much makeup and a short skirt. Now she had on jeans and a V-neck baby blue sweater that made her eyes pop. Her blond hair was short and in the style that flattered her well for years.
“Thanks for having me for dinner,” he told her.
“Of course. We’ll have to make a routine of it. Something the boys can rely on, yeah?”
“Sounds good.” He took a long sip of his whiskey. She had poured him more this time.
“I haven’t seen much of Sophie or Felicity.”
“Everyone’s so busy with the season.” He hoped that was the true reason, and not that the women were avoiding Celia because of him leaving her.
“Such exciting news for them, though. Both being pregnant.”
“It is.”
“I wouldn’t have minded having another. A wee girl, maybe.”
He laughed. “You were the one who said three was plenty. You know I’d have had more.”
“It was a lot to handle for a while, there. With you away so much. It really wasn’t easy.”
“You’re right. Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. I knew what I was getting with you, Marty. I knew you were in a band and had ambitions. It was just . . . it was hard not to have resentments build up. I should have tried harder.” She placed her hand on his upper thigh. “At a lot of things.”
The suggestion was clear enough to him. He responded without thinking, leaning to her and kissing her on the mouth.
CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
Celia responded with passion that surprised him. They traded kisses, tongues tangling in an entirely unfamiliar way. Then he felt her hand on his crotch, grabbing and squeezing him awkwardly. It was what made him pull away. If she had responded the way she always had, as if she preferred to engage as little as possible, he probably would have continued. But her entirely changed response was a red flag, reminding him of her desperate plea for him to lie to himself in order to keep their marriage intact. Was that what she was doing by pretending to want him?
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have,” he said, not wanting to embarrass her with his rejection. “I should go.” He stood.
“You can stay. In the guest room, if you like.”
“We were having a nice chat, Cee. I shouldn’t have done that. I’ll see you soon, yeah?”
She nodded, avoiding eye contact as she sat there. He let himself out.
Fuck. That was bad. Martin slammed the front door of his house closed behind him.
Now he had to work on drawing a new line with Celia, to gently making sure she knew he wasn’t coming back to her. That feeling he had of being tempted to slip back into their old life was a fleeting bit of nostalgia. And guilt. Hearing how his boys had been affected had hurt. It opened the door to considering retreating back into their marriage. But that’s what it would be: a retreat. It was just what Gavin had warned against—going backward.
While he wanted a good relationship with Celia for the sake of their children, he didn’t want to be with her. That really hadn’t changed, even if he did have a brief moment of thinking he should try. He blamed this weakness on Lainey. Her silence had eaten away at him because he knew they had something. A connection like theirs shouldn’t be disregarded, no matter the complexities their lives and histories posed.
With a sigh, he grabbed a bottle of Smithwick’s Ale from the refrigerator and took it to the living room. Setting the bottle down on the coffee table, he reached for the acoustic bass guitar that seemed to have a permanent place on his sofa. He’d been toying with several ideas lately, composing on his own in preparation for the studio time they had planned for early January. After forty-five minutes and another ale, he was feeling more relaxed. The music had given him a way to focus his thoughts.
He concluded that his kids would be fine. The things that ailed them would pass. Especially if he made a concerted effort to be even more involved.
Instead of making a big issue out of having kissed Celia and run, he would just behave normally with her. The new normal, that is, of being separated in their marriage but united in raising their kids.
And he would reach out to Lainey. Soon. Once he had formulated the words that would convince her they were already on the same page, if only she’d open herself to it. This was good in theory, but harder to put into action once she got the wrong impression from the tabloids reporting on his “reunion” with his wife.
CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
The plan to ignore his misstep in kissing Celia worked for the most part. He made the suggestion two days later that they all go out ice-skating. The boys were delighted to have the family outing. Celia was quietly pleased as well. But after dinner at her house, he went back to his place. He thought it sent the right message about how things would be going forward. He was devoted to his family, but he was not going back into his marriage.
But when Celia fell ill with the flu three days before Christmas, Martin naturally stepped in, taking care of her and the boys and staying the night in the guest room.
The paparazzi seized on the combined “evidence” of their family ice skating trip and him being seen staying at the family home for multiple nights to produce headlines screaming Celia had “won” the Rogue bassist back from “homewrecker” Lainey Keeler. Martin tried to ignore the media crush and continued doing what he thought was right for his family, including the five of them going to church services together on Christmas day. But that triggered even more headlines the next day, along with close-up photos of both Celia and him still wearing their wedding rings.
All the attention resulted in a text from Lainey.
He had taken Celia and the boys to the Leopardstown Racecourse for the National Hunt horse racing Christmas Festival. It was a tradition he and Celia had started years ago, securing one of the private suites for the occasion. Every year, they invited friends to join them for food and drink in the space overlooking the finishing straight of the track. It was something they looked forward to, and he didn’t want to alter the routine too abruptly.
The other
s hadn’t arrived yet when Lainey’s text came through. “So happy for you,” Lainey wrote. It confused him. He didn’t understand what the congratulations were for. And then came the second text: “Good thing you never took that ring off.”
It felt like a gut punch and Martin wanted badly to call her to refute what she was seeing—and believing—in the tabloids. But it wouldn’t do with his present company. The boys were having a blast comparing what they could see with binoculars with what the flat screen monitors in the suite showed them. Celia was watching them contentedly. He thought about stepping out of the suite, but Gavin and Sophie arrived then, along with Daisy. Their manager James and his wife, Maddy, entered soon after, and Martin had no choice but to play host, as Conor and Felicity would be arriving soon as well.
It was almost an hour later when he was able to text Lainey back.
“Don’t tell me you believe what you see in the tabloids,” he typed furiously. “It’s time spent with my kids. That’s the priority. It doesn’t change the way I feel about you—about us. I’ve been dying to hear from you. I still want you, Lainey. I still want you to give me a chance.”
He was surprised when she wrote right back.
“I’ve got a new rule: No more married men.”
“Fuck me,” Martin muttered. It was no use getting into a text argument over this. But that realization didn’t help his frustration with it.
“You all right?” Conor asked, slapping him on the back.
“Bloody great,” Martin replied. He forced himself to take a deep breath.
Conor nodded at the phone Martin held in his hand. “Lainey?”
Martin looked for his kids and found them at the far side of the suite, playing with Daisy. Then he saw that Celia was talking with Sophie and Felicity.
“Yeah, Lainey,” Martin admitted. “She’s written me off because of these tabloid stories.”
“They have done a good job at making it look like you’re back with Celia.”
“Well, I’m not.”
Finding Rhythm (Rogue Rockstar Series Book 4) Page 28