The effect of his rebuke was immediate. She seemed to deflate, her usual brightness diminished. He recognized his hypocrisy as a bitter taste in the back of his mouth. Hadn’t he repeatedly pulled her close to him precisely because she knew and understood his story? And here he was trying to claim she had no right to what he had begged her to be a part of. But he didn’t see any way to fix it now. Christ, this had all started because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.
“Let’s just leave it—” he started.
“No,” she said.
He waited for more but the only thing to break up the silence between them was the signal sounding the start of the next chukka. The crowd in the grandstands behind them came to life as the players rode out onto the ice on fresh ponies.
“No, you don’t get to silence me,” she finally said. Her manner had changed again, her back straighter now, a determined set to her face. “I know up until now this has been your burden to bear, and that it’s torn you to pieces,” she said. “But you don’t get to tell me I don’t have a say.”
He looked away, uncomfortable with how clearly she could see him. At the same time, he was grateful for the fact that she was pushing back. Taking a deep breath, he turned back to her with resolve to fix this somehow.
“I’m sorry I went after you, after your parents.” he said. He pushed his sunglasses up into his hair and pulled her glasses away so he could see her eyes. “I just love you so much and want the world for you. I want you to always have everything you need out of this life. I hate to see how you’ve been let down.”
“I know that, Gavin. I do. But don’t change the subject. We’re talking about you. Let me be part of your story. Because I’m in this with you. Let me help with the weight of it all.”
The simple plea hit him hard and he wished he hadn’t removed his mirrored sunglasses. Damn if she didn’t know once again how to handle him, how to give him what he needed when he didn’t even realize it. He had lost his faith in religion, but all he could think was that she was a true godsend.
“Fuck me if I ever let you go, darlin’,” he said and pulled her into his arms. He sighed with relief when she held him tightly in return.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Martin’s wedding was a traditional Catholic ceremony in a nineteenth century stone and stained glass church on the Southside of Dublin. The nearly ninety-minute service included hauntingly beautiful choir singing, multiple Bible readings, and communion for those who would take it. Gavin wasn’t actively anti-religion, but he had lost all comfort from it when his mother left, and he made it clear early on that he had no intention of taking communion. This conflict had resulted in months of Martin’s fiancée, Celia, casting aspersions on the idea that Gavin was fit to be Martin’s best man, but there was no changing either side’s position on the matter.
As best man, Gavin had dutifully taken Martin out for his stag night and made sure his friend had the time of his life with far too much temptation. The scantily clad and ever so friendly women in the “club” where they celebrated were especially cruel for Martin given the fact that Celia had refused to sleep with him until they were married. He had fallen for her in part because of her traditional values, but he hadn’t realized how difficult it would be to abide by them at the most personal level.
For the actual day, Gavin showered, shaved, and put on a finely tailored suit, looking more put together than he ever had. He escorted Sophie to the church where they were met by eager photographers from various tabloids and legitimate papers. The two made a striking pair as they quickly entered the Catholic cathedral.
Sophie spotted Shay first and greeted him with a hug
“Shay, you look so handsome,” she told him and he blushed.
“Thanks,” he replied. “You’re lovely as ever.”
She wore a long form-fitting pale pink sheath that was suitably subtle so as not to take attention away from the bride, but yet did nothing to hide her stunning figure.
“You two taking notes for your own wedding, then?” Conor asked as he approached them.
Looking at Conor, who also wore a smart suit that fell beautifully on his frame, a wave of emotion passed through Sophie. She realized that these boys she had grown to love back in school were all men now. It was a wonderful thing to see.
“We’ll not be doing a church wedding, that’s for sure,” Gavin replied with a grin.
“Ah, he says this in the house of the lord.” Conor laughed but also crossed himself for good measure.
A woman giggled with them and Sophie saw that a petite blonde stood partially behind Conor. He pulled her fully into their circle. “Sondra Delaney meet Sophie Kavanagh.”
The two women shook hands. Sophie’s initial assessment that the woman was petite was correct except in one regard, her breasts. Though they seemed real, they were still disproportionate to her slight frame and were well exposed in her low-cut dress.
“Aren’t you an actress? On Fair City?” Sophie asked. Fair City was a long-running Irish soap opera and Sophie recognized Sondra as the notorious man-eating home-wrecker of the show. She was also at least five years older than Conor, and Sophie wondered how that affected their relationship.
“The very one,” she replied without ego. She had obviously become used to being recognized. “We’ll sit together, love, since the lads have their thing.”
Sophie smiled. “Sure.”
“Darlin’, I better go find the groom,” Gavin said. “I’ll see you after.” He kissed her quickly and was followed by Conor and Shay.
~
Celia Rogers walked slowly up the aisle wearing an appropriately virginal white gown, keeping her eyes focused on Martin even as she gripped her father’s arm tightly with one hand and tried to stop the tremble in the other hand holding a bouquet of Stephanotis flowers.
Sophie thought the service was beautiful, though it also made her think of her own wedding and what she would do differently. Apparently, Sondra had the same thoughts as she occasionally nudged Sophie and whispered criticisms of certain music selections or the length of the bride’s veil. After several of these comments, Sophie looked down at Sondra’s left hand to see if she had an engagement ring since she surely was acting as if she and Conor were to be next down the aisle. When she found her hand to be bare, she knew Conor was in a world of trouble, especially since she knew the two were “temporarily” living together. It had happened when Sophie and Gavin were in Switzerland. Sondra’s apartment had become unlivable due to a massive renovation. And her designs on Conor were clear.
The reception was held at a nearby hotel ballroom to accommodate the large guest list. The noise factor was high as waiters dodged the young children who were let loose from parents ready to have a good time. But it was a joyous occasion with a lively mix of contemporary and traditional Irish music, and enough free-flowing Guinness to please everyone.
Sophie finally got some time with Celia well after dinner had been served and once again marveled at how the sweet woman was so completely unprepared for the rock ‘n roll world her husband was devoted to. There was something naïve in the way she went on about the bizarre feeling of having press around her, especially given the fact that she had confessed upon their first meeting to being positively obsessed with the tabloid version of Sophie and Gavin’s story. This suggested to Sophie that as long as the focus was not on her, Celia was only too happy to indulge in the gossip scene and made her slightly wary.
With Gavin in full social mode, Sophie was left to observe the party but she didn’t mind. She enjoyed watching the little ones form their own dance routines, the older folks drink a bit too much and show off dance moves that should never otherwise be seen, and the utter contentment on Martin’s face at it all. Not even seeing Gavin chatting briefly with Julia bothered Sophie. Though her insecurity over her fiancé’s old lover had dissipated, she couldn’t claim any effort to develop a friendship.
Gavin soon disengaged from his conversation with Julia, and Sophie wa
tched as he searched for Shay. Shay had retreated to a table at the far corner of the room and looked miserable on his own until Gavin approached him. Sophie saw Shay brighten as his friend pulled him toward the bar. She had early on recognized the dynamics in the band as revolving around the fact that Gavin looked up to Conor, Conor tried to appear like he needed no one, Shay worshipped Gavin, and Martin was just happy to be in the mix.
Sophie turned her attention to Conor as he danced with Sondra, and intuitively knew there was something missing with their pairing. They had made a splash with the local tabloids, as they were a gorgeous couple. The contrast of his height and dark hair with her curvaceous but petite frame combined with their own areas of fame was appealing. But there was something needy in the way she clung to him, and Sophie knew he wouldn’t tolerate it for long.
The two separated on the dance floor and Sophie lost track of them. She sat at a table with the boyfriends of Celia’s sisters who were also part of the wedding party. Her thoughts drifted to Felicity, their old school friend. Felicity had hoped to come to the wedding but ultimately had to decline in deference to her university obligations in Toronto where she had moved several years back. Sophie imagined the good time they would have had, and was sad that they wouldn’t have the chance to catch up.
Gavin dancing with Martin’s mother caught Sophie’s eye, and she wondered if it made him think of his own absent mother.
“Dance with me.”
Sophie looked up to find Conor holding his hand out to her.
“Sondra’s gone off for a ciggie. I need a partner,” he explained.
When she hesitated, he took her hand and made the decision for her by pulling her to the feet. On the dance floor, he held her close and led her in slow movements.
“So, what do you think of my girl?” he asked.
“You two seem pretty serious.”
“In what way?”
Sophie smiled and eyed him for a moment. “Well, I guess because you’re living together. And she talks as if having a future with you is a forgone conclusion.”
“She wants to marry me,” he said.
“Does she know you’re not going to?”
Conor raised his eyebrows with a small smile. “And how do you know that?”
“It’s obvious looking in from the outside. She’s not the one.”
The smile left his face. “And who says there is just one, anyway?”
“I do,” she replied matter of factly. “And you will, too, one day. When you find her.”
“You and Gavin are really something with your romance and drama. Not everyone operates the way you two do, you know? It doesn’t have to be the be-all end-all with another person.”
Sophie shook her head a little as she looked at him. “Don’t you know, Connie, that love is all there is?”
He was struck dumb for a moment, then scoffed. “You’re drunk, honey.”
“I’m not,” she replied, though she probably was. The champagne had been delicious.
“Drunk on love if nothing else, then.”
“Yes, definitely that.”
“The lyric is ‘All you need is love’ anyway.”
“Now you’re talking.”
With her heels on they were at eye level and he met her gaze with a small smile again. But there was something more than amusement in it now. It was obvious he was charmed by her, and that fleeting moment from that New York rooftop came to mind. He had teased her with his touch then and she knew he’d been playing games with her. This was different, though. There was such warmth in his eyes. Then the expression faded as the music abruptly segued into something fast-paced, and he excused himself to go find Sondra.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Conor had an unattached studio in the back garden of his house that had once been a large gardening shed. He had remodeled and expanded it to make it into a space where he and the band could work on music. The rustic wood floors remained but were covered with tattered Oriental rugs and an old sofa. There was enough space to house a drum kit, electric, bass, and acoustic guitars, along with a set of microphones. A basic recording system allowed for rudimentary demos, but Conor hoped to upgrade to a full-scale sound board and other better equipment in the near future.
The year was slipping into early summer, and the band didn’t have much to show for their efforts toward their second album. Gavin was so wrapped up in Sophie that it had been hard for Conor to get his attention to write music. Martin had returned from his honeymoon but still seemed absent as he settled happily into married life. Shay had been the one most eager to start working on things, but they still hadn’t been able to gather everyone other than for the odd night out.
Truth be told, Conor had enjoyed the down time. He had always shied away from being a part of a big circle of friends, as much as people increasingly vied for his attention as the band made a name for itself. Gavin, Shay, and Martin were his closest friends, so if they weren’t available, he was happy to be on his own. He’d spend days hiking the lush greenery of the Wicklow Way with a backpack filled with water, protein bars, fruit, and a book. The mountain lakes, steep glacial valleys, flowing streams, and ruined buildings along the way were plenty company to satisfy his loner tendencies and love of the natural Irish landscape. Sondra was able to lure him out of too much extended time away, though, and they had a good time out on the town with dinners with her actor friends.
But this day was a confirmed band day as they had all agreed to meet at Conor’s place to put in serious work. He had left his front door unlocked for the others and was sitting on a stool, freestyling on a Gibson Les Paul electric guitar.
“Ooh, is that new?”
He looked up to find Sophie letting herself in. She wore jeans and a pale green capped-sleeve cardigan held together at the bodice by a jeweled broach, and the color made her eyes shine a deep emerald. He saw a flash of bare skin at the lower open end of her top and fixated on the fact that she wore nothing under the sweater.
“What you were playing, I meant. Is that something new?” she asked and moved closer to him. “It sounds so different.”
“It’s the open tuning on the guitar.”
“Like Keef!”
Conor stared at her in surprise. How did she know Keith Richards used open tuning, let alone his nickname? Richards had created his signature sounds for "Honky Tonk Women," "Brown Sugar," and "Start Me Up" by tuning his guitar the same way a banjo is tuned. The five string open G-tuning created three notes with different octaves and a “ghost” note formed by the two other notes harmonizing.
“Don’t be so shocked,” she said with a laugh. “I actually pay attention when you guys talk music, you know?”
“Oh. Yes,” he mumbled and sat up straighter. “Where’s Gav?”
“He had to run back home. Forgot his book with all his notes, if you can believe that.”
Of course he had. Gavin could either be exceptionally focused or . . . not. It didn’t seem to bode well for their session today. Neither did Sophie being here. Not that he wasn’t pleased to see her, but she could be a distraction.
“I won’t stay long,” she said as if reading his mind. “I’ve got summer term to sort out at uni.”
“I see.” He hadn’t seen much of her or Gavin since Martin’s wedding. Since she had declared his relationship with Sondra hopeless.
“Let me hear that piece again,” she said, gesturing to the guitar he held.
He did as she asked and ran through what little he had put together. Watching her as he played, he saw the notes resonating as she tilted her head just so.
“How do you do that? Play without looking at the strings?”
He could have taken the opportunity to share with her that as a child he had shown prodigy-level talent for music, had in fact, taken violin and piano lessons starting at age three. It was likely he could have had a successful career in classical music had his friendship with Gavin not steered him toward rock n’ roll.
Instead, he said, �
��I’ve given the guitar more hand jobs than I’ve given myself.” Because it amused him to see her blush.
“More than I needed to know, Connie.”
“You want to give it a try?”
“Give what a try?”
He raised his eyebrows and stared at her for a moment, feeling the heat between them and enjoying it. Then he pulled the guitar strap over his head and offered the instrument to her.
“Um, yeah, okay.”
He lowered the strap over her shoulder, holding steady to the neck of the guitar until it was in place. When he let it go, she staggered.
“Oh my god, it’s so heavy!” she said, astonished.
He laughed. It was a solid piece of equipment, one that he was accustomed to manipulating for hours on end. But seeing her surprise at the weight of it, the look of admiration for him in her eyes now, he viewed it anew. And he saw her anew. She was beautiful and sexy and fun—and Jesus he was smitten.
“Give me a pick,” she said.
He handed her one, though he feared what was to come next. The sound she made with her indiscriminate plucking at the strings was horrible. It made him cringe to see his exquisite maple wood and cherry-red Sunburst-designed guitar played that way. But then he saw the unfettered joy she had in playing. She knew it was awful, but she was enjoying it anyway. Her laughter rang out.
“Wait, how about this? Remind you of anyone?” She set about imitating the way he strutted across the stage during a live show, somehow capturing the confidence bordering on showmanship he knew he projected.
He watched her with a small smile, unable to look away. This attraction wasn’t exactly new. He had been drawn to her from the first day she arrived at school, all legs and blond hair, tanned skin, and extraordinary eyes.
“Got a new band member, then?”
Sondra stood at the door, her eyes trained on them. Conor blinked to clear his memories. Sondra being here felt incongruous and he wondered how long she’d been watching.
Sophie laughed again and shook her head. “No way. I’m just messing around. Here, take this thing before I fall over. I still can’t believe you make it look so easy.”
Tangled Up In You: A Rogue Series Novel Page 14
