Felicity Found (Rogue Series Book 6)

by Lara Ward Cosio

  By the time I see Amelia for our second appointment, I’ve come to realize that my bad moment when Conor came home to find me non-functional was just that—a moment. Since then, I unburdened myself with that very long talk with Amelia and gotten a lot of rest. I feel so improved, in fact, that I tell Amelia we don’t even need to keep meeting.

  “Well, that’s wonderful news,” she replies.

  I examine her for sarcasm but find none. She’s smiling pleasantly, her notepad and pen untouched in her lap.

  “Yes, I think it is. I mean, after our session I felt like the weight of the world had been lifted from me. And between Lizzy and Conor, I ended up getting a lot of rest. Which, is really all I think I needed.”

  “I’m happy to hear that, Felicity.”

  After a moment of silence, I realize I’m waiting for her to validate my self-diagnosis. But she doesn’t.

  “So, really, I came today to say thank you.”

  “You’re very welcome.”

  Again, I’m left waiting. I want her to say something to make me feel like I’m doing the right thing. I want her to say, “Of course, you can handle things from here on out. I could see straight-away that you just needed to unburden yourself. You’ve clearly got it all sorted now.”

  But she doesn’t say that. She doesn’t say anything, just watches me.

  “I wondered whether you might let me buy you a cup of tea,” I say for want of anything else to break the silence. In thinking about it after the fact, I feel it might be a nice gesture—especially since I’m telling her I won’t be back and am therefore depriving her of my business.

  “Could we make it coffee?” she asks.

  “Em, yes, absolutely.”

  She rises from her chair and sets the notepad and pen on a side table. I take her lead and we both gather our purses to leave the office.

  * * *

  Once on the street, I confess that I don’t have a place in mind for coffee. Amelia assures me she knows where we can go, and we walk in companionable silence until we come upon a donut shop not far from Trinity College, making it a popular spot for uni students. Still, we manage to snag the only remaining table. Amelia recommends the lemon meringue and I go to the counter to place an order for two coffees and one hipster donut.

  When I sit across from Amelia with our order, I realize this should feel awkward. Having coffee with my erstwhile therapist is an odd way to end the relationship. But, I don’t feel uncomfortable. Amelia has a manner that makes me feel like we’ve been friends for ages.

  “We’ll split this, then?” she asks, ready to tear the gooey donut in half.

  “No, I’m not hungry. It’s all yours.”

  “Oh, thanks.”

  She seems delighted for the treat and it’s refreshing to see a woman eat unapologetically.

  I look around at the busy shop, eyeing the college students who seem to be spending freely on the designer donuts.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Amelia says.

  Startled, I turn my focus back to her.

  “How can they afford two or three euros on a single donut?”

  I laugh. “You did read my mind. When I was at university, I had three roommates and worked two part-time jobs at pubs. I ate best when the kitchen made a mistake and couldn’t serve the food.”

  Amelia nods in agreement. “I had three roommates, too. We lived in a squalid little place. It wasn’t far from Trinity, but the landlord was pulling one over on us with the cost, given the sad shape of it. Still, we got to live close to the school and had the best time, even if the lot of us together couldn’t afford something like this.” She holds up a piece of the donut and the lemon glistens under the sunlight filtering through the window.

  “I went away to Toronto for school. Had to get away from here as soon as I could. I was determined to find some independence from my Ma.”

  “She leaned a bit on you, yeah?”

  “Thinking back on it now, it’s hard to hold on to the anger and resentment I had at her over it. But back then, it was a real thing. I just felt such pressure to put my life on hold to be her everything, you know?”

  She nods. “It can be draining. My sister was like that for a long time until she sorted things.”

  “Really?”

  “She had been in an abusive relationship with a fella who really did a number on her. It was mostly psychological, but sometimes it was physical, too. I’d get the calls at all hours. She’d never let our parents think she was anything but perfect, which to be honest, is a condition we both suffer from. Such people pleasers,” she says, and I smile. “Anyway, it meant she’d never go to them. And I certainly wouldn’t tell them the state she was in, so we went through it together. I’d patch her up—literally and figuratively—and she’d swear she was done with him.” She sighs sadly. “Then the cycle would continue.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “She was young. It all started in school. Thankfully, she pulled herself out of it once she agreed to see a therapist—not me, of course. It’s been years now that she’s been with a wonderful, stable, man. They even have a baby boy.”

  I’m relieved at the happy ending to that tale. I ask to see a picture of her nephew and we end up exchanging phones to scroll through the dozens of photos we each have. We coo and give out compliments on the beauty of the children. I notice she doesn’t miss a beat when she sees that Romeo is of African descent.

  We went through a private adoption service and could certainly have chosen a white baby, but we wanted to make the biggest impact we could and asked for the child who would have the most difficulty being placed. We were told that this boy, the child of a young Nigerian immigrant, had been passed over more times than they could count. That made our decision easy. We offered an open adoption but we were told the mother was very young and wanted it closed. We will, obviously, always be open with Romeo about how he came to be our son and brace ourselves for him wanting to find his birth mother one day. For now, though, he is entirely ours, and anyone who can’t accept and understand that—including my father—has no place in our lives.

  “May I ask a personal question?”

  I groan inwardly. Perhaps I was too quick to give Amelia credit for her color-blind reaction. I nod but my body goes tense.

  “Did you name your daughter Ella after Ella Fitzgerald?”

  The relief I feel that she’s more interested in my daughter’s name than the color of my son’s skin is huge. I laugh.

  “Yes, we did, actually. Conor, he’s in love with Ella’s voice.”

  “I love jazz, myself. I’m tickled that you named your daughter after one of the greats.”

  “Turns out it was apt since she’s got an amazing vocal range,” I say with a laugh. “Her cries can be epic.”

  “Maybe she’ll be a musician like your husband.”

  “I don’t know that I’d wish that for her.”

  “No?”

  “Well, at least not a rock musician. He’s had amazing success, but it’s a very transient life. The traveling is grueling. Setting down roots takes monumental effort.”

  “The exact opposite of what you had with your first marriage, I think you said?”

  “Yes, true. Richard was stability personified. He had his life all planned out and I went along for the ride. Until he told me to get off,” I say.

  “It wasn’t that abrupt, was it?”

  “Indeed, it was.” I tell her then the whole story of how my marriage ended, how blindsided I was by Richard’s rejection of me when he thought I was infertile.

  “What lovely revenge you’ve had, though,” Amelia says.

  “How so?”

  “You turned around and married a rockstar who was actually capable of getting you pregnant. And now you have two beautiful children.”

  I’m about to reply when the phone in front of me vibrates. It’s Amelia’s, not mine. She still has my phone sitting on the table in front of her. The speed with which she grabs
her phone is impressive. I hadn’t seen who was calling, and it’s clear she doesn’t want me to.

  The interruption is a good reminder that I should be going. I can feel the need to nurse my babies. As with the last time I saw Amelia, I feel lighter. But this wasn’t a therapy session, so why does her simple company give me the same effect?

  “Well, thanks for indulging me with having a cup of coffee,” I tell her.

  “Ah, no. Thank you for the coffee and the donut. You really should get one for yourself on the way out.”

  We stand, and I realize the good feeling our conversation gave me is threatening to slip away. It felt so nice to have a chat with a friend. Could we be friends? Is that possible after the circumstances we met in?

  “Listen, I have to say, this was lovely. Would you want to meet again for a coffee sometime?” I say in a rush.

  “Oh, sure, why not?” she says breezily. “In fact, we could get together again at this time next Monday since I have the slot open? It would give me an excuse to have another lemon meringue donut.”

  I laugh. I’m looking forward to it already.

  13

  Once I get to my car I realize that I’m very close to the studio where Conor and the lads are working on the album. I’ve never visited there and think it might be nice to pop in. But I haven’t brought a pump and I’m desperate to feed the babies, so I ring Lizzy and ask her to bring the kids with her to meet me at the studio.

  I make a slight detour on the way to stop at Marks & Spencer, thinking it would be nice to show up with some food. Once inside, I end up wandering and feeling that lack of focus once more. It takes me far too long to decide on an assortment of tea sandwiches and a random sampling of crisp packets.

  By the time I get to the studio, I find a dozen or so fans loitering outside and Lizzy and the babies already inside. She’s surrounded by the members of Rogue, and though they could certainly be captivated by Romeo and Ella’s presence, her clingy, low-cut top leads me to think otherwise.

  “Hello,” I say, feeling invisible. All the good effects of my chat with Amelia have disappeared. I fight the tears rushing to my eyes.

  Conor is the first to look up. I see him quickly assess me in the way that he’s always done. It used to be that he’d add a sexy smile. Now, his smile is one of concern. I shake my head to tell him not to worry. I didn’t come here to make a scene. I didn’t come here to fall apart in front of everyone.

  “Good to see you, Felicity,” Gavin says and leans in to kiss me on the cheek. “Your little ones are a gorgeous interruption. We needed this.”

  His generosity makes me smile. He and Sophie are alike in that way. They can be incredibly supportive.

  “That’s nice to hear. I brought some food in case you’re hungry.”

  “Always,” Martin says and relieves me of the bags in my hands. “Thanks.”

  His insatiable appetite has long been legendary, but now it’s the sort that comes from his workouts. He’s become a gym rat like the others and claimed his place as scream-worthy in their fans’ eyes.

  Shay and Danny Boy say their hellos and I greet the band’s producers and sound engineers. All before Conor makes his way to me.

  “Hey, you,” he says, and kisses me gently.

  “Good surprise?” I ask.

  “Good surprise,” he confirms.

  My relief is interrupted by the sharp wail of first Ella, and then Romeo.

  “The babies have been so good, really, I swear,” Lizzy says with an apologetic smile.

  “It’s okay, I’m ready to take them.” I look around at the small room. It’s overwhelmed by a large, complex sound console, but there is a sofa behind me. “I’ll nurse them here, if that’s okay?”

  All the men immediately look uncomfortable and my cheeks redden at the spot I’ve put them in.

  “Lads, let’s take the food to the kitchen for a break,” Gavin says, coming to my rescue.

  They all eagerly file out and I’m left with Conor and Lizzy. She helps me get set up on the sofa. I have no inhibition about exposing myself in order to feed the babies and Lizzy has no qualms either as she helps me make the proper adjustments. I glance up and catch Conor watching us. His eyes are on Lizzy’s hand as she adjusts my breast into better position. When he turns away abruptly and starts fiddling with the sound board switches, I worry again about how I haven’t been satisfying his needs.

  We didn’t have that much time together before the babies came along. He was on tour for long stretches right after we became a real couple. Our reunions were frenzied and highly satisfying, but in thinking about it, carefree time to focus only on ourselves and indulge the purely sexual part of our connection was short-lived. I imagine his patience is wearing thin.

  “Conor, can you show me where the toilets are? I want to wash my hands,” Lizzy says.

  I watch as he turns to look at her, at the way his eyes drop down the length of her body before he can stop himself. She’s young and fit and I have no doubt that at any other point in his life he’d show her to the restroom and then show her a whole lot more. Maybe he’s even fantasizing about that in the second it takes him to respond. But then he does speak, and I relax.

  “It’s just down the end of the hall there,” he says.

  Once she’s gone, he settles in beside me. He takes a moment to stroke each baby’s cheek. The way he clearly adores his children has made me fall more deeply in love with him. It really is the sexiest thing a man can do, even if I don’t feel that sensation deep in me the way I once did.

  “How was your session?” he asks.

  “Oh, I didn’t have it.”

  He raises his eyebrows in surprise. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m just feeling so much more myself that I really only went to thank Amelia for that one time.”

  “I see.” The skepticism on his face reveals he doesn’t trust my decision.

  “I do really like her, though,” I say. “I ended up buying her a coffee and a donut and we had a lovely chat.”

  “Okay.”

  “And we’re going to meet up again on Monday for another coffee and chat.”

  “Like an appointment?” he asks.

  I laugh. “I guess. A friendship appointment. I really get on with her. I think we’ll be great friends, actually.”

  “Friends?”

  “Eh, yes.” I’m not sure what he’s driving at and his questioning is beginning to irritate me.

  “With the person who was meant to treat you for your issues?”

  “With the person who is just nice to talk to.”

  “You have me for that. I hope you haven’t forgotten that.”

  “No, of course not. It’s just easy with her. We had a nice give and take earlier. It’s just a relief to not feel . . . judged.”

  “Who judges you, Fee?” he asks in a rush, clearly exasperated. “Honestly, tell me who?”

  “I don’t know. I mean, I didn’t really mean it like that. I just—I just can’t speak with Sophie right now, not the way I can with Amelia. This is the friendship I need.”

  He considers this for a moment and I can see he’s struggling to accept my logic. I know he wants to be able to fix me—and that, in fact, he does view me as needing to be fixed—but he will have to learn that some things are not in his control. I need to navigate this, whatever it is, myself.

  Finally, he releases a sigh, relenting. “If that’s what you need, then I’m all for it, honey. I want you to have everything you need.”

  “I’m going to get there, really I will. You’ll be patient with me for a little while longer while I get steady?”

  “Of course. I’m not going anywhere. You know that, right?”

  “I do. But . . .”

  “But?”

  “I have moments where I wouldn’t blame you for wanting your freedom back. We got together and your whole life was upturned—”

  “For the better, Fee.”

  “I just know that it’s a lot. I’m ad
mitting it for you so you don’t have to feel guilty for it.”

  “Please don’t do that.”

  “I mean, I understand that you’re probably feeling a little trapped by all this—”

  “Don’t do that,” he repeats, his voice raised, and it stops me cold. He isn’t someone who raises his voice unless there’s a damn good reason. I watch him silently. “What you’re doing is pushing me away. Just like you did when I was trying to leave Colette. You pushed me away when you thought you couldn’t possibly be enough for me. You did that instead of believing me when I told you you were the one I wanted. Stop pushing me away. Believe me when I tell you that you and the babies are all I want.”

  I’m set to explain I had no intention of doing that, and that I’m sorry if that’s how I’ve made him feel, but before I can get a word out, Lizzy returns. She’s applied fresh lipstick and perfume and looks carefree and ready for anything—the opposite of what I feel.

  “So, this is where it all happens?” she asks, eyeing one of the isolation booths that can be seen behind the glass wall above the sound board. She’s oblivious to the tension she walked in on. Either that or has chosen to break it up. I’m still wavering on whether she’s a godsend to help me or if she’s the kind of temptation I don’t want in such close proximity to my husband.

  Conor, clearly ready to take the out she’s offered, stands and begins to give her the rundown on the studio and how each space works. She affects fascination when he tells her how one room is carpeted and another isn’t, each producing a different sound because of the flooring.

  He’s in his element, enjoying the rapt audience. And I’m here nursing two babies and thinking he’s right. I have a habit of pushing him away. And if I don’t put an end to it, it may just work.

  14

  Conor

  I’m a dick.

  I’m a dick because I know I have unfinished business with my wife, but here I am lavishing my attention on Lizzy.

  Right in front of her.

  It’s childish, but still, a part of me thinks if Felicity wants to push me away, then I’ll go ahead and give her a taste of what that feels like. It would be easy to slip my arm around Lizzy’s shoulders, or better yet, her slim waist, and steer her through a personal tour of the studio. I imagine I could find many ways to let my hand “accidentally” brush against her high tits and tight ass. Lizzy has already made it clear she’d be open to that and more.