She sank on to the sofa and looked at the floor. “We don’t have to get married, okay? But we don’t have to break up.”
“Honey,” he said softly, “we do.” He crouched down and tried for eye contact. The tears he expected to see weren’t there.
“Tell me why. You’re not making sense.”
He had wanted to get out of this with inflicting the least amount of pain as possible. But there was no way around it.
“The truth is, I care for you and I only want the best for you—”
“Then don’t do this.”
“But I’m not in love with you,” he continued.
She met his eyes and shook her head incredulously.
“And I don’t think you’re in love with me either.”
“Don’t tell me what I feel.”
“Okay. I’ll only speak for myself.” He took a deep breath. “I did try to give us a fair shot, Colette. But there’s no use in forcing it.”
She looked away, staring vacantly at the living room windows. “Jackson said this would happen. He said you would never be over Sophie.”
That prick again. Just what he needed. He sat down next to her on the sofa. How many different ways could he try to convince her this wasn’t the case? He shook his head and threw up his hands in silent frustration.
“Don’t lie to me, not about this.”
“What do you want me to say?”
She examined him. “I want you to be honest enough to admit that you’ve allowed your feelings for her to destroy any chance we ever had. Admit to me you can’t handle a real relationship with a real woman. You’d prefer to live in your fantasies for her.”
This thought process of hers surprised him. But then he realized she would have been spot-on a year ago. That was when he had been wrapped up in Sophie. Things were different now. Telling her he wasn’t in love with her was enough damage. He wouldn’t twist the knife by saying they didn’t have the right connection to create a lasting marriage, that they had for too long been fixated on playing childish games with each other rather than being partners. And he knew bringing up the fact that he thought she would be happier without him sooner than she realized would only make her angrier. She had just turned twenty-four and had the world at her feet with modeling and whatever else she chose. He was thirty-two now and his thirst for predictability, as well as someone who would be there to really build a life together, was getting stronger. But mostly what he couldn’t say any clearer than he already had was that he had gone down the wrong road in pursuing her. It has been a painfully misguided attempt to move forward with his life.
But she didn’t want to hear that. Some perverse part of her thought she would be redeemed if it were all Sophie’s fault rather than any issues with their relationship.
“Here’s the truth. It’s about time I fucking grow up and do the right thing. I don’t want to lock you into a bad marriage. And I don’t want to end up being responsible for your unhappiness.”
She was quiet for a long time and then she shook her head and laughed. “You really are an asshole. You come here days before our wedding, act as if nothing’s wrong, and then you break my heart. To assure my future happiness?”
“When you put it like that . . . .”
His attempt to play cute didn’t sit well. Jumping from her seat, she grabbed his guitar and brought it up over her head.
“Don’t,” he said but knew it wouldn’t matter.
She smashed the forty-five-hundred dollar Breedlove Pacific guitar down on the floor as hard as she could over and over again in a cacophony of sound until it was splintered into pieces.
“Did that hurt? Even a little bit?” she asked.
He focused on the fact that there was anger in her eyes but no tears before nodding. He knew once again it was what she wanted from him.
“Good. I’ll make sure all the bills for canceling our wedding get sent to you. Oh, and you can bet your ass I’m keeping the ring. Now, get out.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
Gavin had a hard time keeping Conor’s pace and ended up a half step behind him throughout the run. Conor barely noticed his friend struggling, as he was more focused on using the run to release the guilt and emotions from the previous day’s breakup with Colette. They would normally head back to Gavin’s after about five miles, but Conor decided to take a detour up the Cat’s Ladder stairs toward Dalkey Hill. He didn’t stop until they had moved past the old signal tower and through the wooded area that finally led them to the obelisk at grassy Killiney Hill.
The day had come out gorgeous, with a gentle breeze and clear sunny skies, making the low December temperature more tolerable. Gavin leaned over, grabbing his knees as he sucked in the cool, thin air. Conor had an easier recovery as he stood, hands on hips, staring out at the expansive views they were afforded from this spot.
They could see in all directions, including the peaks of the Wicklow Mountains in the south, green hills and valleys of Dublin Bay in the north, as well as Dun Laoghaire harbor and the Howth peninsula. Even the coast of Wales was visible. It was spectacular.
They took a seat at the base of the stone obelisk and sat in silence for some time, letting the sweat slowly dry.
“I’ve just come back from New York,” Conor said.
“Yeah?”
“I broke it off. There will be no wedding.”
Gavin looked at him, but Conor kept his eyes firmly on the sights before them. “You okay?”
Conor took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “Yeah. As awful as it was to do to her, I’m relieved.”
“If that’s the case, then you know you did the right thing.”
“It was the right thing. I just . . . she had it set in her head this was about Sophie.” Conor looked at him. “But I swear to fucking god himself it has nothing to do with her. I’m not in love with your wife. That’s all done.”
Gavin took this in while keeping eye contact, silently assessing the declaration.
Conor leaned forward and held his head in his hands. “I’ve fucked up so many things, Gav.”
“Why are we going backwards here?”
He was quiet for a long time. “I’m tired of myself,” he said at last with a laugh. “I’m tired of hurting others.”
“Quit being so fucking dramatic,” Gavin said, and Conor looked at him sharply. “You’ve got this one life. Don’t go wasting it with regrets. Move forward. And remember, nothing is irreparable.”
Conor nodded.
They sat in silence for a while longer and then Conor laughed.
“What is it?”
“Nothing’s irreparable. Besides the guitar Colette smashed to bits.”
“Shite. Which one?”
Conor told him. “I suppose that’s the least of what I deserved.”
“Fuck that attitude, Con. You broke with her because you didn’t want to marry the wrong person. There’s decency in that.”
“If it had been that straightforward, then maybe. Let’s just say I didn’t set things up well. For her or now for Felicity.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Fuck me,” he said with a sigh and washed his hands over his salty face. “I slept with Felicity a couple days ago. Then I told her I was going to break it off with Colette. But when I got there, she had a friend over and plans. I went out with them, then stayed the night before breaking it off. I can only imagine what Felicity has made of the paparazzi photos.”
Gavin shook his head. “Okay,” he said warily. “And what is it you want with Felicity?”
“I want to be with her. If she’ll have me.”
“Is this something real, Con?”
“It is.”
“Just as much with Sophie? With Colette? On to the next like that?”
Conor felt the heat rise to his cheeks. “She is not the ‘next’ for fuck’s sake.”
“Felicity’s magically filling the void, then?”
“Not like that. She’s who I’ve been looking for and I never realized it. Je
sus, I’m turning into you, with the romance and the drama. But it’s the truth. She’s the one that gives me the truest sense of home. And I just want to make her happy in return.”
“Then it better well be real. Because she’s one of us, from the beginning.”
“I know what you’re getting at. I do.”
“Don’t play fucking games with her then.”
“I’m not. It’s different with Fee. I mean, she . . . makes me see myself as I am, whether that’s good or bad,” he said with a laugh. “She’s always on me about needing to grow up, you know.” He took a deep breath. “And she’s exactly right.”
Gavin watched him for a long moment. “Then let’s wrap this up so you can go get her,” he said and stood up.
The abrupt shift made Conor realize that Gavin’s interrogation of him on the subject of Felicity had been carefully constructed. Gavin had wanted to force Conor to clarify his intentions, to convince them both that he was doing the measured, thought-out thing with his love life for once. He had passed the test.
“How did you get to be the mature one?” Conor asked as he took Gavin’s offering of a hand to help him stand up.
“I’ve always been the mature one. I just let you think otherwise,” he replied with a smirk.
“No, really. We grew up together, did this whole band thing together. Why has it taken me longer to sort my shit out?”
“Would you rather have had your mother abandon you at age seven so you could have grown up faster?” Gavin asked with a good-natured smile.
“Take your point,” Conor said and gave his friend a quick one-arm hug.
CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
Conor stood in the detached studio in his backyard, surveying the work that Colette and James had done to not just replicate his other studio but create something on the next level. He felt a stab of guilt over the time he wasted in Colette’s life but soon shook it off. They had both gotten what they needed from each other for a time. But it was right that it was over.
Going to the custom rack along the wall that held his guitars, he let his fingers fall over each one lovingly. The space was more comfortable to him than the main house. The loneliness he felt there was what made him retreat to the studio. He had been staring out at the view from the bedroom balcony when it overwhelmed him. It was that feeling of missing Felicity. He owed her a phone call but was procrastinating because he wasn’t sure how she would respond to him.
Sitting down at the piano, he pieced together a few notes of one of Rogue’s early songs. Funnily enough, it was “Return to You,” Gavin’s ode to his reunion with Sophie after they had been separated for a few years.
Finally, he took out his phone and dialed Felicity. Just as he thought it would go to voicemail, she answered with a soft hello.
“Hey, you,” he returned.
“Are you back, then?”
“I am. Can I take you to dinner tonight?”
“Em, no. I’m working, CQ.”
Back to being called CQ. That was not a good sign. She was clearly trying to step away from the intimacy they had shared.
“What kind of work?”
“My team and I are going over the raw footage of the documentary crew. James arranged a deal to broadcast a cut of it on both BBC and a major network in the States. But we have to sort it out ASAP and there’s a lot to go over.”
“I’ll want to see any cut before it’s sent out.”
“I know you will, but we’re not ready for that yet. There’s hours and hours to look through.”
“You’ll need to stop to eat, right?”
“We’ll have something brought in.”
“Fee, just a quick break?”
He could hear her sigh. And then something more. Some sort of struggle to keep her composure.
“It’s okay. I sorted out that you’re going through with the wedding. I don’t need you to tell me in person,” she said.
“If you’re talking about those photos—”
“Yes, that was the easiest way to signal your decision, wasn’t it? Let paparazzi announce it. Very grown up of you.”
“I know how it looks—”
“Remember, I told you it was fine if that was your choice,” she said. But she didn’t sound fine. Her voice was clipped and wounded at the same time. “Now, I’ll let you know when the cut is ready.”
“Felicity, give me a chance to speak.” The line was silent. “Fee?”
He checked the display screen of his phone. She had hung up. And she didn’t answer when he tried her again three times in a row.
~
It was close to nine o'clock when Felicity’s staffers begged off, promising they would return the next day to continue reviewing the footage. The documentary and studio crew took this as their cue to leave as well, but they welcomed her to stay as long as she wanted.
She leaned back and stretched in the darkened editing bay. The black desk was eight feet long and had built-in angled bays for the advanced editing options that she was careful not to touch. Four 32-inch monitors were mounted end to end with one 40-inch monitor centered above those. It had been a long afternoon and evening of staring at footage of the Rogue boys and their corresponding significant others. She had enjoyed seeing the cameras follow Martin’s kids as they ran rampant wherever they were, Celia at a loss to fully control them. That was life with three boys under eight years old, she supposed. And she had liked the way the cameras caught Shay looking at his girlfriend when she wasn’t aware. He was clearly smitten with her.
But the video from the band’s rehearsal space had been rough. At first it followed the enormous minutia of the band’s techs setting everything up. James’ lack of authority with the band was comical as they ignored his cries to get started. And then the camera revealed Gavin’s innate leadership skills as he called for his band to listen to him and they responded without delay.
Sophie was the subject of another angle as she stared intently at her husband on the cramped stage. Even dressed down she was a knock-out and the camera lingered on a tight close-up of her face. But soon Gavin’s frustration at the direction of the song led to a break. Which led to the filming of him and Sophie talking and kissing before obviously leaving to find a place to get intimate.
The raw footage had then cut to another couple, Conor and Colette. The conversation couldn’t be heard but the tension was obvious as they talked. That soon escalated as she attempted to hit him and he had to subdue her.
Felicity shook her head as she thought of that scene. It was something she would need to have destroyed since it would never benefit the band. But more than anything it made her question once more why he was with that woman. She had never seen them interact in a way that suggested love. There was physical familiarity, of course, but no sense of them being in love.
But obviously there was more to their relationship than she understood since he had gone to New York ostensibly to break up with Colette only to clearly resume being together as if nothing had ever changed. Seeing those photos of him had stung deeply. The picture of him with his arm around Colette’s neck as if it were the most natural thing in the world was the hardest one to bear.
She couldn’t hold him to account for this, though, since she had slept with him knowing full well that he was committed to marrying Colette in a matter of days. And then she had released him with practically a blessing for him to forget about the time they had spent together if he thought Colette was the one for him.
She had almost taken it all back when she saw the hurt on his face. She’d fought the urge to tell him that, of course, she wanted him to leave Colette, that she wanted him just as much as he said he wanted her. The declaration he made in her kitchen that he’d been forcing his relationship with Colette out of misguided calculation rather than love rang true. But her old instincts to protect herself took over, and she pushed him away.
And it seemed to have worked, as the tabloids proved his decision to return to Colette. She wouldn’t disparage the
memories of her own brief time with Conor. It had been a sweet experience. The vivid memory of the way he touched her and was so in tune with what she desired brought a flush to her cheeks. She forced herself to clear away those thoughts and used the multi-colored keyboard to indiscriminately forward the footage, landing on the New York dinner party Sophie had hosted.
The camera angle was a wide shot, with Gavin in profile drawing the eye. He sat at the table, softly lit by the flicker of candles. The music in the background and lively conversations all around him made for a pleasant atmosphere. But as Felicity continued to watch the static shot, she saw the movement reflected in the windows and understood why Gavin was sitting so still. His eyes were trained on Sophie and Conor in the kitchen, as seen in the glare of the glass. It was clear that Sophie was a little drunk and that she and Conor still had some sort of connection. The camera captured the tortured expression on Gavin’s face as he understood this as well.
Felicity didn’t think the episode between Conor and Sophie was anything more than a blip as they both took pains almost immediately to correct themselves. But she felt sorry for Gavin in that moment.
Before she could register how it made her feel, the sound of the outer door opening startled her from her thoughts. She pushed away from the editing table and stood up. She looked around for some sort of weapon but all she could come up with was a plastic spork leftover from their takeaway dinner. Better than nothing.
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
The outline of a man became visible and Felicity held her breath, wondering if she was in shadows enough to go unnoticed.
“Fee.”
“Oh, fuck,” she said, letting out her breath in a rush. “You scared me half to death!”
Conor moved all the way into the room and gave her a tentative smile. “I brought something to keep you going.” He held up a bottle of red wine in one hand and gourmet dark chocolates in the other.
When she didn’t respond, he took another step closer to her. “I needed to tell you in person—”
“I told you, I get it. I saw the photos of you two out. It’s perfectly clear you’re with her.”
Playing At Love: A Rogue Series Novel Page 31