“You look deep in thought,” Celia said as she entered the room.
Martin looked at his wife, examining her now the way she had done to him earlier. She still wore that shapeless housecoat. Her blond hair was cut short but it flattered her face. The only makeup she wore was mascara. For a woman who had birthed three children, her figure was nice, if not head-turning. She had never pretended to enjoy sex, or even be a sexual person, and he had lived with that, but with his own desires being newly awakened after time with Ashley, he longed to try to change that.
In an effort to be playful, he pulled her hand, and she fell into his lap awkwardly.
“Marty!” she said, more annoyed than charmed. She struggled to get up.
“No, don’t leave. Stay like this,” he said, holding her in his arms.
“Let me up, you silly man.” She had tried to make her tone light, but he could hear her underlying anger.
He let her go, but he wasn’t done. “What’s under that housecoat, then?” he asked, pulling at the collar.
“Nothing—”
“Nothing? I love it.” He rubbed his hand over her jeans-covered thigh.
“Martin, really,” she said in exasperation. “Can you stop pawing me so we can talk?”
“Babe, I need a little release. It’s been a long time, you have to admit.”
She nodded in agreement but didn’t seem swayed.
He leaned closer to her, stroking her cheek as he looked into her blue eyes. Going slow was the only way to get her on board. But the actual lovemaking had to be quick, or she would literally tell him to hurry up and be done with it. Kissing her gently, he waited until he could feel her body loosen to grant him permission to touch her at the same time. Flashes of Ashley came to his mind as he fondled Celia’s breasts. Ashley was the most sensual, sexual woman he had ever known. She claimed to be multi-orgasmic and he believed it. Thinking about that got him hard and he reached for Celia’s hand, pulling it over his erection.
“Too fast,” she said.
“Just go with it. Doesn’t it turn you on to feel how much I want you?”
She put a hand to his chest to push him away but froze as her fingers touched the metal barbell in his nipple. ”What is that?”
“Oh, yeah. I got this one,” he said, gesturing to his eyebrow. “And I got this one, too.” He pulled his shirt up to show her. His nipple had healed well but he still had to be careful to clean it twice a day.
Celia closed her eyes with her eyebrows raised in disbelief. “What is happening to you?” she asked.
“It’s nothing, really.”
“Then take them out. Get it off of your body,” she said, now with wide eyes full of the heat of anger.
He laughed. “I won’t. I like them, Cee. Just as I like how fit I’ve gotten, thanks for noticing. And my change in style. I like the changes.”
“Are you having an affair?”
The question shocked him because despite the fact that he had done more with Ashley than he should have ever done, he still believed he hadn’t cheated in any way. He hadn’t touched Ashley in a sexual way. He hadn’t kissed her. The fantasies he’d had, however, were entirely X-rated. But that was his own business.
“No, of course not,” he said.
“Then who put you up to all this? How have you come back to me as someone I don’t even recognize?”
“That’s not fair, is it? A few surface changes and you don’t recognize your man? Come on.”
She held his gaze for a long silent moment. “Who put you up to it?”
“I wasn’t ‘put’ up to anything. It was more of a dare, I guess you could say.”
“By who?”
“You know Ashley, right?”
Celia stiffened. “Ashley?”
“The woman they brought on to look after Danny Boy to be sure he didn’t do anything stupid.”
“So instead you were the one to do something stupid,” she said with a scoff.
“Jesus, don’t be so fucking uptight,” he snapped, tired of the ridiculous judgment she was casting upon this simple thing.
“That isn’t how you speak to me,” she said and stood.
“I’m sorry, babe. I didn’t—I just don’t see what the big deal is.”
“You’re going to be thick about it, are you?”
He sat back in the couch, frustrated with her accusation that he was playing dumb.
“What you’ve done, Marty, is not about the change in your appearance. It’s where it’s all come from. And since I have to bloody well spell it out for you, it’s obviously come from you spending time with another woman. That’s plain enough to see.”
“As a friend, is all. Celia, as a friend.”
“Oh, a friend. That’s all fine, then, yeah? I’ll just go find myself a male friend and start piercing my privates, will I?”
Flipping it like that didn’t sit well. But he was in a bad position, needing to defend himself. “If you like,” he said.
“‘If you like?’ Well, look at that,” she said with a tsk.
“No, I mean, like, I could do that with you. I want us to do things together, babe. We’ve been stuck in a rut, haven’t we? But we don’t have to be. You and I can get out and discover things together. And about each other—”
“What are you on about? Are you saying this marriage isn’t good enough for you?”
“I’m not, no. I’m just saying that I’ve been exploring new things lately and I want to keep doing that. With you. With my wife. You’re the one I want to grow with.”
“I have never heard you talk like this. Not in all your life, Marty. It’s this woman, Ashley—”
“No, it’s just me taking a real look around. I haven’t done that in a long time. And I like what I see. I like trying new things, and eating different foods, and figuring out how other cultures work. Don’t you want to go on that journey with me?”
Her eyes filled with tears but he wasn’t sure why. He waited her out.
“If you won’t think of me, think of your boys. They need you. Not off doing who knows what with some Ashley.”
This response hit him like a punch to the gut. He should never have said Ashley’s name. It would be nearly impossible to change Celia’s mind on things now. She may not think he had cheated, but she instinctively knew something had changed and would always associate that with Ashley.
“I’m telling you, babe, this has nothing to do with her. I’m not off with her now, am I? I’m here with you and the boys.”
“Until you go back on tour.”
“What would you have me do? Quit the band?”
She hesitated. “I would, yes—if it ever came down to our marriage, our family, being at risk.”
“This has all gotten out of control—”
“You’d do well to sleep down here and think all this over.”
As he watched her leave the room he wanted to scream. But instead, he did as he was told and stayed put, quietly. It was what he had long been accustomed to doing.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
They had spent most of that holiday break on terse terms. At Celia’s insistence, they went to church for more than the usual services. She extracted a promise from Martin that he would no longer spend time alone with Ashley. It wasn’t until three days before the tour was starting up again that Celia started to relax. She could see Martin was fully engaged and committed to her and their family, and so it was unreasonable to hold on to her anger. Still, she was unyielding to his physical advances.
And so he had returned to tour, intent on funneling his sexual frustration into the music and into working out, and determined not to start up an inappropriate friendship with Ashley again.
It didn’t take Ashley long to intuit the reason for Martin’s new distance. They returned to the polite discourse they had begun with. But it was in the hotel gym, once more, that she was able to break through to him.
Martin had arrived earlier than the other guys, getting the bulk of his workout done
before them so that when she arrived he was cooling down on a mat. Shay, Conor, and Gavin traded places on the various equipment.
He saw Ashley out of the corner of his eye as she came into the gym but he didn’t acknowledge her. Instead, he finished off the water in his bottle and wiped himself with his towel. Rather than challenge him to some form of exercise, Ashley took a seat next to him.
“Morning,” she said.
“Morning.”
Conor always started his workouts with a T-shirt on but invariably pulled it off and finished bare chested like he was now. Martin focused on the way sweat was dripping down Conor’s neck, following a bead as it rolled down his chiseled chest, over his belly and got lost in the happy trial of hair disappearing into the shorts slung low on his hips.
“I’ve seen you watching him before, you know,” Ashley said in a hushed tone.
“What?” Martin asked with surprise.
“Conor. He’s gorgeous. Not my type, though. Too controlled. Too aware of his good looks,” she said.
“Hmm.”
“But I can see why you look at him. He’s sexy as hell.”
“Ash, I’m not—”
Ashley put a hand on his forearm. “It’s okay if you think about him,” she said.
“I don’t.”
“Maybe you would if you allowed yourself to explore that side of you. There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s all sexuality. It doesn’t matter if it’s the same sex or not. Think he’d be up for a little exploration?”
“Stop it,” Martin said, feeling heated. He told himself it was because of his workout, because he was angry at her insinuations. But could it have been for something else?
“I’m just saying, what’s the harm with opening yourself up to other possibilities? Honestly, have you ever allowed yourself to fantasize about a man?”
“You’ve got it all wrong. There’s not an inch of me that is gay.”
She laughed at his word choice. “It’s called bi-curious,” she said sagely. “Anyway, I’ve been with women before. Just for the fun of it. I don’t think I’d ever want more than the sexual aspect of it. I can tell you all about it sometime.”
Now Martin laughed. He glanced at her and saw a knowing, crooked smile on her face. “I don’t need you fucking with me anymore, Ash. I’ve got to steer clear of you, okay? My wife will end things if she thinks you and I are friendly again.”
“I won’t tell her if you don’t.”
The playful suggestion that they hide their friendship was unsettlingly exciting. And sexy.
Could it work to just keep their friendship under the radar? If Celia didn’t know about the time he and Ashley spent together it would almost be like it didn’t happen. It would simply be saving Celia unnecessary worry about something that wouldn’t happen anyway. He might enjoy flirting with Ashley and playing close to the line, but he was not going to cheat on his wife.
These rationalizations freed him to return to his inappropriate relationship with Ashley, times where they went bar hopping, went dancing together, fell asleep while watching movies in his hotel room, and worked up a sweat with intense exercise sessions that were tinged with their barely contained desire for one another. In the midst of it, he honestly believed he was staying true to his marriage vows. Or rather, he convinced himself that the only kind of intimacy with someone else that counted as adultery was sexual. This other kind of closeness he had with Ashley didn’t count as betrayal.
Though, once the tour ended and he returned home, he soon found that Celia felt exactly the opposite.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The discussion on their opposing views of what constituted cheating was instigated when Celia discovered the tattoos covering Martin’s right arm. Per their usual pattern, he and Celia hadn’t spoken often or in depth while he was on tour. And even though he should have shared with her that he had gotten a sleeve of tattoos when he was in Austin, Texas, she only found out when he was home after the tour ended. Before then, he had taken care to wear long sleeves, not wanting her to find out from media reports. Still, he didn’t come out and tell her or show her and she was shocked to see him so altered when he was stepping out of the shower.
Celia was at the sink, brushing her teeth when the colorful Japanese koi, lotus, and ocean wave designs caught her eye. She quickly spat out her toothpaste and turned to him.
“What have you done?” she asked him, her face ashen. “Are they real?”
“They’d better be after almost twenty hours of work and a couple thousand dollars,” he said with a laugh.
“I don’t understand. I don’t understand any of this, Martin.” She set down her toothbrush and left the room.
Martin took a deep breath, toweled off, and dressed in sweats and a white T-shirt. He found Celia seated on the side of the bed, waiting for an explanation.
“Babe, I know it seems odd to you, but remember I’m still me. I’m still your fella,” he started.
“It’s this Ashley girl again, isn’t it?”
“No, it’s nothing to do with her.”
Well, that wasn’t exactly true. While she hadn’t been the one to suggest he get tattooed, she had been the one to tell him about a book she was reading on the rich history of Japanese tattoos. When she told him that it had been used for generations as a way to achieve a clear sense of self-identity, as well as declare that vision to the outside world, he was hooked. He knew he wanted to do his own research to decide on the markings he felt would match who he was. It had to be Japanese because of the interest starting with what Ashley told him. From there, he found the combination of symbols that made the most sense and sought out an artist who could do the work. Because of their tour schedule keeping them on the move, he endured two ten-hour sessions that ran through the night. He loved the results, and now hurriedly explained to Celia what each marking meant.
“See the waves all mingled throughout?” he asked, drawing his hand from his wrist to his elbow and up to his shoulder. The Hokusai-inspired aquamarine colored waves were seamlessly intermixed with the other designs. “The style is based on this famous Japanese artist, but to me it’s more about the symbolism. You know, that water symbolizes strength and life. And on a bigger level, life is like water in that it ebbs and flows.”
She stared at his arm wordlessly.
“The fish here and here, they’re koi.” The pair of burnt-orange koi was finely detailed with scales and somehow conveyed movement as they crept up his arm. “They’re all about masculine courage, control, and achieving goals, even in the face of life’s hardships.”
Still silent, she just shook her head.
“The lotus flower here and here,” he said, pointing out where the fuchsia and teal versions of the flower were on either side of his arm, “they can be found in ponds with koi which makes sense since they represent an awakening to life itself.”
“So, you’ve become quite the philosopher, then?” she said, forcing a smile.
“No, babe. I’m just thinking about life in general and wanting to really make sure I’m living it.”
“By marking up your arm?”
“Don’t be so literal about it,” he told her gently. “Yes, I’ve got the ink, but it’s there as a reminder to really be in the moment and make the most out of everything I have.”
Celia nodded absently, then caught her breath. “Why do you need a reminder, Marty? Weren’t you living before? Was all this—me, the boys, us—not enough?”
“Listen, just because I’m doing something like this for myself doesn’t take away from us. I’m not saying I don’t have it good, okay? I just want to explore . . . more.”
“And Ashley’s the one to do that with, is she?”
“It’s not about her, I promise you. This is just me figuring things out.”
“You didn’t carry on with her, then?”
“No,” he said stiffly.
“It’s a choice, Marty, at a certain point. Don’t think I haven’t had other men show me i
nterest. But I choose to close the door on that. I choose to make it an impossibility to be with anyone but my husband.”
“What other men?” he asked, her main point lost in the pique of jealousy.
“Oh, never mind. Just making a point.”
“Well, it’s good I’m back home, then, if you’ve got fellas after you.”
“Oh, babe,” she said with a sigh. She eyed his arm once more. “I can’t claim to like it on you. But what’s done is done.”
He flexed his bicep. “You’re sure it’s not the least bit sexy?”
She considered him for a moment before wrinkling her face in distaste. “What will Father O’Malley think of this?”
“He’s not the one here. And—”
“Good thing you can keep it covered up most of the time,” she said, almost to herself.
“Come, a lot of women find tattoos to be a turn-on.”
“I’m not one of them. I liked the old you—no tattoos or piercings, and soft and cuddly.”
Jesus, she didn’t even like that he was in the best shape of his life.
“What does turn you on, babe? Tell me one thing that gets you hot and—”
“Certainly not this talk,” she said and abruptly stood.
“Can’t we try something different? Cee, I want for us to be able to talk about this stuff. I’ve let it go for so long, but I need you to try. I need you to understand that as a man, I have desires—”
“Martin.”
She didn’t need to say anything more. He knew he had gone too far for her. She was utterly turned off and there would be no exploring her boundaries.
“Something’s changed,” she said. “But it isn’t me.”
“That’s what I’m saying. I have changed. Change with me.”
“I don’t want to be anything other than what I am. I will never be someone who likes tattoos or piercings or dirty talk. You knew that at the start.”
He nodded. He did know that about her. And it was fine then. He wasn’t sure what it meant now, though.
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