They had tried and tried, she said. At first it had been a fun excuse to bring back some of that early fire in the bedroom. But as the months went on, it became more routine, more anxiety-ridden. He started to get defensive about it, which she said was understandable given the stress of it all. She confessed to having had some serious baby fever and pushing hard to make it happen. He came from a large, prominent family where he was the only one who could carry on the family name. There had been tremendous pressure all around.
“Anyway, after almost a year of trying, we had ourselves checked out. And it was made clear by the doctor that I’m the one at fault. ‘Unexplained infertility’ they call it.”
“Oh, Fee,” he said softly and took her hand in his.
She let him hold her hand but didn’t acknowledge him otherwise.
“As much as I wanted kids, that wasn’t the worst of things. Before I could even understand the diagnosis, Richard decided he couldn’t be married to me if I couldn’t bear him children. That’s how he put it. He had the nerve to say that he had wasted too much time before we discovered this . . . this flaw. He said he needed to rectify the situation with a quick divorce so he could move on.”
“What a fucking arsehole.”
Felicity let the tears she had been fighting for the last five minutes finally fall from her eyes. “And it all happened so quickly at the end. I was utterly confused because here I was still madly in love with the man who now viewed me as this inferior being and he couldn’t move on fast enough. My heart couldn’t process what was happening.”
“Shite. Of course you couldn’t.” He put his arm around her shoulders and she rested her head against his chest with a long, shuddering sigh.
“There had been signs,” she mumbled into his jacket. “I should have recognized that something wasn’t right with him but I just . . . didn’t. I didn’t want to, to be honest.”
“You couldn’t expect your husband to ever treat you that way, honey.”
“I didn’t want to see him as he was. To see how much I had let myself change for him,” she continued, and he held her closer as she admitted her own failings.
As they sat in silence, Conor recalled Felicity’s emotional response when he had told her of Colette’s claim that having children would “ruin” her body. He understood now that Felicity’s reaction had been triggered out of all of this. And how she must loathe Colette all the more for the callous way she described pregnancy.
He pulled her to standing with him so he could give her a proper embrace. He kissed the top of her head and squeezed her tightly, wanting to not just protect her but heal her.
“I hate the thought of you being hurt like that,” he murmured.
“Then don’t romance me, Conor,” she said quietly. She pulled away and moved closer to the edge of the pod.
He watched her back for a long moment, trying to sort himself out. He felt such a deep pull to be physically and emotionally close with her, and not because she had finally let down her walls, but because with her he felt a sense of contentment he didn’t know anywhere else. Felicity didn’t ask him to jump through hoops to please her like Colette did. She just enjoyed him as he was and accepted him without judgment, and as a result he had shared things with her he had told no one else before. He had been drawn to her with increasing intensity over the past few months, delighting in her company—even when she suggested he still needed to grow up—and missing her when she wasn’t around. And the way they were able to flirt as easily as they could laugh together was a wonderful thing.
But all that was moot. Colette was the one he had committed himself to, and he had done so precisely because he had learned the hard way that his heart wasn’t to be trusted. He had plotted this path forward with her on the theory that if he used calculated logic in matters of love, his undisciplined heart would no longer have the power to overwhelm his better judgement like it had for years with Sophie. It had been asking a lot of Colette for her to give him another chance but she had. He needed to protect and nurture that offering instead of looking for excuses to get out of his commitment to her. Because he knew from experience that leading with his emotions ended up making everyone miserable. He did not want to go down that path again.
“I’m sorry, Fee,” he said carefully. “I don’t always think through things, do I?”
“Meaning?” She turned to him. The few feet separating them suddenly felt like a mile.
Seeing the colorful lights of the Ferris wheel shine in Felicity’s watery eyes, he wanted to chuck it all and pull her back into his arms and hold her. He wanted to romance her and delight her with grand gestures. But their timing was wretched and exactly wrong.
“I. . . I shouldn’t have stayed at your house that time. I shouldn’t be so flirty with you. I am committed to Colette, despite what it may seem at times.”
“I know that,” she said quickly. “That’s why you need to stop giving me your time and attention like this.”
“I get it,” he said but couldn’t keep the reluctance from his voice. “Tell me this, though. Are you glad we did this? Did I make you happy for a minute?”
She considered the question. Now that the heartache from her story was subsiding, she felt lighter from having shared it with him. She looked around at the sights beyond the rotating pod and felt a sense of giddiness and magic all over again.
“Yes, of course, you did,” she said. “This was another experience with you that I’ll not soon forget. You’re pretty damn good at making memories, CQ.”
“I’m pleased to hear it. Let’s finish the champagne and go for one more spin, then.”
PART THREE
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Gavin eyed the man with the video camera on his shoulder and hesitated. And then his gaze fell on the other cameraman who was currently filming a wide shot of the vacant warehouse where they had all of their equipment set up to rehearse the new album. He and the other band members had agreed to this documentary of the launch of their fifth studio album and the ensuing tour, but it now felt like more of an invasion than he had imagined.
“All set, are we?” James asked, clapping his hands vigorously.
Martin was chatting with his bass guitar tech, Shay was adjusting the cymbals on his drum kit, and Conor was on his phone. They had all ignored their manager. Gavin was the only one ready to start this session but the cameras had thrown him off.
He wondered how wise the idea had been to agree to have everything documented so soon after the issues they had barely worked through. But he knew that Felicity’s argument that this was just the point of it, to prove that they were stronger than ever, was good strategy. Looking around at the scattered band members, he knew they weren’t conveying that sentiment well so far. It was time for him to reclaim his role as leader of this band.
“Seamus, Marty—heads up,” Gavin called. “Con, wrap it up and let’s go.”
And just like old times, the others listened when their singer spoke. Within three minutes they were in place and ready to go.
They ran through the song “You’ve Been Found Out” with fits and starts, stumbling over finding the rhythm. It was a song about deceptions revealed—both self-deception and the deception of others. Though it contained the line Colette had used against him, “you can’t keep what you covet,” the song wasn’t just about Conor and Sophie. It also delved into the bitter disappointment Gavin had discovered when he finally connected with his mother. They had, of course, played it in studio but finding the tone of it for a live performance was a different animal and was what made these rehearsals so important.
~
Sophie arrived at the warehouse just as the band was starting over with “You’ve Been Found Out.” She could see Colette on the opposite end of the cavernous room and opted to keep to her own end. Even in the expanse of the oversized space, she could feel the bass and drums throbbing in her chest like a second heartbeat. The rhythm was seductive and then the sensation opened wider as Conor gen
erated his own heat with the guitar. As was his signature, he rarely looked at the strings and instead felt his way with the progression. It had always made him look like the most comfortable and talented person on the stage. She had asked him once how he was able to play that way and he had only half-jokingly replied, “I’ve given the guitar more hand jobs than I’ve given myself.”
Gavin raised the microphone and transformed the music into something distinctly Rogue as he sang with all his heart. His slightly husky voice combined with the way he carried himself had always lent his stage presence sexuality. Sophie had been a lost cause to him once he had sung directly to her when they were teenagers. To have that romantic attention leveled on her had been an intense rush that continued to this day. Her knees still buckled when he made eye contact with her from the stage or sang softly in her ear in the most mundane moments.
Rogue’s first album had been a slow-burning success. But once it registered with the American college scene, it spread like wildfire, selling over six million copies in the era when fans still bought whole albums. Their second album had come out after Gavin and Sophie’s reunion and generated a surprise massive hit with the love song “You’re My One.” The song had saturated every generation and connected all around the world, as people took it on as their own for their crushes, proms, and weddings. Even as people experienced it as something personal, they also associated it with the famed Gavin and Sophie love story. It had been the soundtrack to the public’s perception of them over the years.
The timbre and range of Gavin’s voice had become richer since then, no doubt due to the vocal training he had been doing combined with age and life experiences. Sophie watched him as he put everything he had into the rehearsal of this song, and the way he exposed himself gave her goose bumps. He wasn’t just doling out blame in this song. He was confessing to his own shortcomings as well, especially with the stinging line “when it got rough you ran just like your mother.”
The raw way Gavin threw himself into the performance was so compelling that Sophie watched as a fan for several minutes before pulling back and seeing her husband again.
They were rehearsing for a series of media performances in the States coming up the following week, including a highly anticipated performance on Saturday Night Live. A couple of late night talk shows were on the schedule, along with several major radio stations in both New York and Los Angeles, as well as photo shoots and interviews with Rolling Stone, Spin, New York Times, Los Angeles Times, and Entertainment Weekly, among others.
Sophie knew Gavin had some anxiety about the trip. Because the band had hit big in America first, he held the reaction there to everything they did as the barometer of their future success. Thus, when he stalked across the stage in frustration, she knew where it was coming from.
~
“Where’s your energy?” Gavin shouted at Martin and Shay. “We fucking had it and you lost it.”
“Let’s go again,” Conor said.
Gavin held up his hands. “No. I need a break,” he said and put the microphone back into its stand.
He ran his hand through his hair and surveyed the scene before him.
Colette had James’ ear as she leaned suggestively into him. Various techs were still setting up the room and other pieces of equipment. A catering company was bringing in a lunch buffet. And Sophie was watching him intently, waiting for him. She had been working in Venice for the last few days and was an especially welcome sight at this moment. He took her in happily, noting that she had come to support him on this day in the casual style he preferred. She wore dark wash body-hugging jeans with a tight fitting Rogue tee-shirt under a sleek leather jacket. Her hair was pulled up into a ponytail and her makeup was all about drawing out her eyes.
Gavin went straight to her, taking her in his arms and inhaling her comforting scent.
“It’s just the start,” she told him. She pulled away and looked him in the eye. “Give yourself some slack.”
“I feel so fucking rusty.”
“That’s because,” she said and ran her hand through his hair, “you are.”
He laughed. “And then there are the cameras.” He nodded at one that was trained on them from a distance.
“But you have the final say in what goes into the documentary. And Felicity wouldn’t let anything in it that you wouldn’t want.”
He nodded and then hesitated before asking, “You’re sure you’re okay with these new songs?”
Gavin had played her the finished album when they were first working on getting back together. She hadn’t loved being on the receiving end of some of the venomous lyrics. But at the same time, she did believe it was his artistic right to express himself. Knowing these songs that exposed all of their weaknesses would live on was something she had to bear. It was his catharsis and she had to grant him that, even if it felt like picking at a scab upon each listening.
“Do you believe in them?”
“Yeah, I do. I think they’re honest. Brutal but honest.”
“That’s all you need to know, baby. Believe in yourself and it will all flow.”
“You’re right. About everything.” He kissed her and smiled when she pulled away with a teasing bite to his bottom lip. “Don’t distract me, darlin’.”
“No? Maybe a distraction—a release of tension—is what you need,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him deeply as she pressed her body to his.
“Maybe, just a quick,” he said in between kisses, “distraction.”
Since getting back together they had maintained an insatiable appetite for each other and didn’t let their location get in the way of feeding it. So, despite the fact that they hadn’t even worked through one song yet, he took her hand and led her away in search of some privacy.
~
“Why doesn’t my wife ever do that?” Martin said to Shay, nodding toward Gavin and Sophie as they stole away, their intentions obvious.
“Too prudish? Too Catholic? Too many kids?” Shay replied cheerfully.
“Fuck off,” Martin returned with a resigned sigh.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Colette and James hastily separated as Conor approached them. He had seen them huddled together over James’ iPad from his vantage on the stage.
“What’s this all about?” he asked.
“Sorting through the schedule,” James said.
“My agent called this morning with a couple of promising opportunities,” Colette said. “I wanted to see how it matched with the band’s plans.”
“What is it?”
“I’ve been asked to do a guest stint with a burlesque group in the States,” she said and watched him. “You like burlesque, as I recall.”
One of the ways he and Sophie had crossed the friendship line in the past was staying together in Colette’s apartment when she was away. They had gone out to a burlesque club and gotten caught by paparazzi. Colette had questioned their actions at the time but hadn’t been as worried over their wrongdoing as she should have been. She now suspected that the two had slept together then even with his continued insistence that hadn’t happened until much later.
“I do,” he replied, determined not to take the bait. “What man doesn’t?”
“I’ll leave you be,” James said and got up.
Conor took the vacated chair and swung it around so he could straddle it. He felt a sense of exhaustion in anticipation of this conversation. There were always secondary motives to Colette’s actions and he knew this was no exception.
“And, so? Are you taking the job?” he asked.
“I’m having my agent see if it can work with the existing bookings I have.”
“A guest spot shouldn’t be too hard to accommodate in your schedule, should it?”
“Well, the other offer I got is to be a judge-slash-mentor on a new model competition show. Their twist on things is that it also follows me in my day-to-day modeling work.”
He squinted at this. “Reality TV?�
�
“I suppose so.”
“You know I won’t consent to being in it.”
“Be supportive, Conor.”
“Listen, I am entirely supportive of what you do. But it’s what you do. With us about to go on tour for this album, I need the focus to be on the music. You know that. You know I don’t buy into the kind of publicity bullshit that is reality television.”
“Don’t be so stubborn,” she said with a pretty pout. “Don’t you understand you can manipulate this to Rogue’s benefit? It would be free advertising for the album and the tour.”
“No,” he said simply and watched as she huffed.
“It may not even get picked up,” she said, feigning capitulation when he could clearly see her mind at work. Odds were good she was simply postponing her efforts to get him involved.
He folded his arms over the backrest and rested his chin on his forearm. “How does it match up with our schedule?”
“It would be pretty similar.”
“Meaning I wouldn’t see you much?”
“Not if you don’t allow the cameras to film. Speaking of which, how is it even different than these cameras?” She pointed at one of the cameramen who had his lens trained on them from a discreet distance.
“Honey, I don’t have the energy. You know what this is all about.”
“Maybe I’ll take away my consent.”
“I have the feeling you wouldn’t like being cut out of any publicity you can get.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” She looked down as she played with the ends of her hair.
Conor watched her for a beat. He knew that if he were to accuse her of being publicity hungry, she would pretend outrage. But he had begun to see how much she enjoyed the paparazzi and other media that came along with being with him. It was so at odds with how he viewed this type of attention that he pushed it from his mind whenever possible. Denial was preferable to accepting that the woman he was to marry had values and priorities in this area counter to his own.
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