Problematic Love (Rogue Series Book 8)

by Lara Ward Cosio

  “It’s not what you think, Daniel.”

  “Then tell me what I’m to think. Tell me what it means when you say you lost perspective―so much that you had to close your practice?”

  “I told you that I crossed lines with another client. I told you that yesterday, remember?”

  “So, this other fella, he’s someone you fucked?”

  Again, she looks around, her cheeks gone scarlet. “Stop saying that I―stop saying that word,” she hisses.

  “Fuck. Fuck him. Fuck me. Fuck it all,” I say, my voice far louder than it needs to be as I start to stand.

  “It wasn’t a male client. It was Felicity.”

  That revelation puts my arse back in the chair.

  “You slept with Felicity?” I ask, incredulous.

  “No, I did not sleep with Felicity,” she replies quickly, at once indignant and exasperated. “If you would only listen, Daniel. If you would only give me a moment.” Her eyes go glassy with tears and she puts her hand to her mouth.

  Now look what I’ve done. Another Danny Boy fuck up.

  “You’re so busy assuming the worst of me,” she continues, “I can’t even get a word in to defend myself.” She laughs pitifully. “And I don’t have much to defend, to be honest.”

  Pressing my hands to my temples, I squeeze my eyes closed and shake my head.

  “You can rest assured, however, that I do not make a habit of . . . having relations with my clients. You have been the one and only exception. And you can see why I knew this was all asking for trouble. Coming here was yet another of my poor decisions.”

  I drop my hands and look at her. “Not true. That was your best decision. I don’t care about anything else that may have happened. Whatever you think you did wrong means nothing to me, okay?”

  “You’re saying you don’t even want to know what it was?”

  “No. Not if you don’t want to tell me. But more importantly, you should know that even though I acted like a total fucking idiot right now, it was because of me. It was because I always think the worst of me.” I’m not telling her this to try to make her feel sorry for me. I’m simply reminding her of where I always, no matter the ways in which I’ve improved, come from. “I did that thing again of making my own reality. I twisted what you were hinting at to prove to myself that you could never have really seen any value in me, that you’re just into―” I stop myself from repeating the same nonsense I’ve already accused her of.

  “That I’m just into sleeping with my clients,” she finishes for me, her voice flat with the absurdity of my accusation.

  I laugh. “Well, that was the crux of it. But I know it’s not true.”

  She takes a deep breath and retreats to her own thoughts. I’m sure this is a bad sign, so I say the first thing I think of to distract her.

  “I know it’s not true. But I somehow wouldn’t mind the thought of you and Felicity having had a sexy affair. Jesus, wouldn’t that be some kind of justice for Mr. Perfect?” I laugh at the thought.

  “Oh please,” she says wearily, “don’t joke about this. I just . . . can’t.”

  I can see that she’s been beaten down by this thing with Felicity, whatever it is. There’s pain and self-loathing in her eyes. I hate to see her looking like that. Especially because I know those feelings all too well. It’s how I’ve lived for most of my life.

  Reaching out, now I’m the one to hold her hand. I play my thumb gently over her knuckles.

  “Okay,” I say softly. “It’ll be okay.” The expression likely doesn’t mean much to her. I’ve never explained the significance of that little word―“okay”―to her, after all. It’s always been reserved for Shay and goes back to the dark days of our childhood. Still, I hope the earnestness of my voice and the naked way I’m imploring her to believe me gets through to her. To further the point, I press my lips to the back of her hand for a long moment.

  When I pull away, her eyes follow me. She watches me for what must be a full minute before laughing softly. “What is it about you? Why am I so drawn to you?” she asks.

  Though I’m pretty sure she spoke her thoughts out loud, I don’t take offense. Instead, I take her helpless, resigned smile as a good sign. Because it means that she’s once more decided not to walk away from me.

  “Baby,” I tell her with a grin I hope is charming, “I surely don’t know. But am I ever glad for it.”

  She eyes me more, searching for something. Then her face lights up, as if she’s just found the key to a vexing riddle. “I know what it is.” She nods to herself. “You’re a carnival ride.”

  “A what?” I laugh.

  “You’re thrilling and frightening all at once.”

  My brows come together at that description. “Is that supposed to be a good thing?”

  “The thing is, it’s just like one of those rides that spins and jostles, with all the lights and noise. And I come off exhilarated. And wanting more, even knowing that it’ll make me feel out of control all over again.”

  I smile, deciding to play into this odd depiction of me. “I do like to make life more exciting.”

  She stares at me for a long moment before saying, “Kiss me.”

  I’m delighted to do what she says, leaning over the table to cup her cheek in my hand as I kiss her tenderly, hoping it will suffice as the apology I couldn’t manage to give her in words.

  15

  Amelia

  * * *

  “It was the most amazing trek, really,” I say. “After lunch, we walked maybe two blocks over to this obscure little staircase and started climbing. Daniel assured me it was open to the public, but it was hard to believe once we were practically traipsing through what was clearly people’s back gardens.” I take in a breath at the memory of that uphill climb. It followed a path along houses and apartment buildings on the left and gardens on the right, some with small bird bath statues or Zen sculptures or benches for watching the increasingly panoramic view of the Bay. Eventually, we came across others who were following us up or passing us on the way down, but it still retained a sense that we had come across a secret of our own. “It was really just lovely. And when we got to the top, we were at this building called Coit Tower. The views from there were phenomenal.”

  “Sounds fantastic. But tell me more about this lad of yours,” Moira says.

  I’m in the guest bedroom at Shay’s, having retreated here after our long day of exploring the city. My feet are killing me, even after the hot shower I lingered in. I’ve got a towel twisted around my wet hair and another around my torso. It’s late in Dublin, but when I texted my sister to tell her how my day went, she called me straight-away. I’ve been filling her in on our adventures while out and about, but her patience has reached its limits.

  “I’m not sure what to say,” I tell her. “I’ll need to finish getting ready soon. We’re having dinner with his brother and his fiancée.”

  “So, you’re definitely sticking around?”

  “Yes, Daniel won’t hear of me staying at a hotel. I lost the first two night’s fees, but they’ve let me off the hook for the rest of the stay.”

  “Ame, enough of this non-essential information. I need details on your Daniel.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like, is he for real? Is he worth it? And when will you actually sleep with him?”

  I laugh at the rapid-fire questions. “He is very real. I do think he’s worth it. And he’s insisting we’ll share his room tonight, so there.”

  “Oh, the anticipation! You must be delirious with it.”

  “Not as delirious as you seem to be!”

  “I’m just excited for you. You’re doing things you never would have before. I’m actually proud of you.”

  “Proud of me for running off to America after a man I never should have considered getting involved with to begin with?”

  “Stop with that, already. You are where you are, now make the most of it.”

  “Thanks, Mo. I appreciate it.”<
br />
  “I want all the dirty details tomorrow.”

  “If only you knew what we’ve already got up to,” I tease.

  “What? What have you done? Tell me!”

  I laugh. “I really should let you go.”

  “Why? So, I can have my glass of wine while Nolan is at the pub with the lads? I’ll be asleep before he gets home, then stagger to bed until Max wakes up too early in the morning.”

  “Am I to feel sorry for you that you’re married to a sweet man who I know will wake you gently and also be the one to get up with Max?”

  Moira sighs. “No, of course not. I’ve got it good. The routine just suddenly sounds dull in comparison to your escapades.”

  “Escapades? It’s not all that dramatic. Although . . . last night in the pub loo was quite something. Okay, have to go.”

  “Oh, no you don’t! What happened in the toilets?”

  “Love to you. Chat soon!”

  I disconnect the call even as I hear her begging for more details. It might seem cruel to leave her hanging, but I actually think she likes the suggestion more than the reality. As a precaution, however, I silence my mobile in case she rings back or sends a million text inquiries. I’ll give her an update later, maybe even some titillating detail, I think with a smile.

  16

  Danny Boy

  * * *

  I’ve rushed my shower so that I might have time to make the phone call I’ve been thinking about ever since lunch. As soon as the line is picked up on the other end, I start talking.

  “I told you we had a connection. I told you it wasn’t stalking,” I say without preamble.

  “What the fuck are you talking about, Danny Boy?” Conor asks.

  I’ve always had the ability to irritate him. Seems I’ve done so right out of the gates. I’d better backtrack.

  “Listen, remember my therapist? The one you asked me about that one time?”

  “Eh, yeah,” he says evasively.

  “Well, she came all the way here to San Francisco. To see me.”

  Conor laughs. “Did she now?”

  “She did. Because she wants to try me on.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay,” I repeat. “Well, so you owe me an apology, then, don’t you?”

  “Fuck off, man,” he says mildly.

  I roll my eyes. In the background, I can hear chatter and music.

  “Where are you?”

  “At the pub with Gav. Want to say hi?”

  Jesus, those two. They’re like teenage girls who share a broken heart BFF necklace, always in each other’s pockets. But then it occurs to me that even though he’s with his boyfriend, he answered my call. It still surprises me the ways these guys have taken me in as one of them.

  “You tell him I said hello. I, em, just wanted to ask you about something.”

  I can hear a slightly muffled Gavin telling me I’d better get back to Dublin soon since Daisy, his daughter, keeps asking about Uncle Daniel. It makes me miss that little girl. For reasons unknown, we seem to have developed a bond. I’ve already done a video chat with her twice since I’ve been here. I’ll have to plan another one soon.

  “What is it, then?” Conor asks. “I’m feeling generous, so ask away.”

  I detect the alcohol in his voice, a rare thing. He is the epitome of self-containment and control. Maybe this will work to my advantage.

  “Listen, Amelia mentioned something about Felicity having been her client.”

  “Why would she do that?” he snaps, shutting down my hope that he’d be more open because of the drink. “Where is the confidentiality she’s supposed to employ?”

  “Fuck’s sake. Have another drink, yeah?”

  Conor doesn’t say anything more but I can hear the pub noises around him, so I know he hasn’t disconnected.

  “She hasn’t told me any details, okay? All I know is there is something with your wife that has made Amelia feel like complete and utter shite. I just want to know two things.”

  After a pause, Conor says, “What’s that?”

  “Is Felicity okay?”

  “Eh, yes.” He seems thrown by my concern. But I am concerned. I don’t want anyone in this new world of friends I’ve made to be suffering. When he speaks again, his voice is softer, and it seems like he might have turned into a quieter corner. “She’s grand. Now. Now, she’s grand.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. Really, Conor, I am.”

  “Thanks, mate.”

  “The other thing I wanted to ask . . . well, did Amelia do something unforgivable? I mean, like, is there any chance this will work itself out? Because I hate to see her tearing herself up over it.”

  Again, there’s a long pause. Finally, he says, “Things still feel a bit raw over their . . . falling out, I guess you could call it. I don’t know what to tell you, man. From my perspective, it’s time to move on. We’ve all fucked up. We’ve all been granted another chance. But for Felicity, it’s going to take time.”

  I nod. This vague answer isn’t all that satisfying, but it does offer a sliver of hope. And I’ll take it.

  “Okay, understood,” I say. “Thanks for taking my call.”

  Conor laughs. “Answering my mobile is not something that requires thanks, Danny Boy.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Yeah, I suppose I do.”

  I’m ready to end the call when he asks, “When are you coming back? We’re due for a ride.”

  That makes me smile. He’s suggesting we go for a motorbike ride together, the one thing we have in common.

  “Soon, I think. I’ll be in touch.”

  “All right. Tell your brother to ring me this week.”

  I agree and before ending our call, I tell him to pass along word to Gavin that I’ll be checking in with Daisy soon.

  Amelia hasn’t come out from the guest room she’s been using, and Jessica is nowhere to be found, but Shay is sitting at the dining room table looking at some photos. I take the seat to his left while Roscoe settles himself on the floor, resting heavily against my leg. Leaning over, I see Shay has black and white photos in his hands that look mostly like shadows.

  “What’s that? Someone fuck up taking a snapshot?”

  “No, you idiot,” he says, but his voice is calm. “These are sonogram photos.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah. Oh. That’s my child.”

  “Em, where exactly is it meant to be?” I still can’t make out anything significant in the photo. Looks like a smoky blur.

  Shay traces his finger over the outline of the fetus and the action orients me to what I should be seeing. It’s my niece. Or nephew. Either way, it’s amazing. I’m grinning ear to ear as the reality that my little brother is going to be a father hits me once more.

  “You think you’d want one for yourself?” he asks.

  “Me? Nah.”

  I sit back in my chair and look past him to the view of the dark water and amber-lit Golden Gate Bridge.

  “Why not?”

  I scoff but don’t look at him. “Can you imagine me as a dad?”

  “I can, actually. Pretty fucking well, at that.”

  Turning my gaze to him, I see in his expression what’s behind his words. I was no father to him, but I did help get him through his younger years. Not that I had any choice in the matter with our loser parents abdicating that responsibility. Still, being there for Shay when he was only little is the best thing I’ve ever done. Knowing that doesn’t stir any parental desires, though.

  “Yeah, well, I think you got the best of our lineage,” I say. “You turned out far better than I did, so combined with Jessica, you’ll end up with good kids. If I were to have one, there’s too good of a chance it would end up like me.”

  Shay is quiet for a long moment. Finally, he nods and says, “Sure, you’re right. We don’t need the likes of another one of you around these parts.”

  I know he’s taking the piss, but for some reason it takes me a minute to laugh
about it. When I do, he slaps me on the back as a sort of reassurance.

  “You can always change your mind,” he says. “And in the meantime, you’ve already sorted out how to be an uncle with Daisy, haven’t you?”

  I smile at that. “Talking of Daisy, I spoke to Conor a bit ago.”

  “Yeah?” Shay fixes me with his stare, the one that can verge on being too intense.

  “He was, of course, with his boyfriend, Gavin. Out at some pub getting sloshed.”

  “You just call for a chat, then?”

  I know he’s prodding me just the way I had done with him earlier today when I couldn’t believe he’d been speaking with Gavin for no particular reason. He thinks he’s being clever and will find that I’ve become just like them. But, of course, it’s not that easy. It never is with me.

  “No, I needed to check in with him on something. By the way, he says to ring him. Seems Gav isn’t the only one missing you.”

  “He may well miss me,” he says dryly. “But I think he wants to talk about something else.”

  “What?”

  “We made a bet. He’s about to lose it.”

  That intrigues me. My little brother isn’t the gambling type. “What was the wager for?”

  “It was about you, actually.”

  “Fuck, what did I do now?”

  Shay laughs softly. “Nothing. That’s the point.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “You’ve kept yourself straight, man. Ever since the time at the Main Square Festival in France when you had your most spectacular fuck up. You know, when you had the smart idea to climb down the lighting rig and came crashing down on me and broke my wrist?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Not my finest moment. I remember. But what has this got to do with a bet?”

  “You remember how angry Conor was?”

  I rub at my jaw, almost able to feel the powerful punch Conor had landed over that incident all over again. “I won’t soon forget.”

  “It wasn’t easy to get him to calm down after that, you know?”