Felicity Found (Rogue Series Book 6)

by Lara Ward Cosio

  I stand and feel the others all look at me with what I imagine is confusion. I don’t look at them. My eyes are fixed on Conor as he strides confidently over to me, wraps one arm around my waist, pulls my body to his, slips his hand into the hair at the nape of my neck, and kisses me with a mixture of tenderness and passion that has me going up onto my toes to get more. I hear a couple of wolf whistles and then clapping from the group, and my smile breaks our kiss.

  Conor leans his forehead against mine. “I missed you,” he whispers.

  “I missed you, too,” I tell him.

  “Forgive me.”

  It’s a plea that comes from deep within him. I know he understands the damage he did. Now, it’s my turn to let him know that it’s not permanent.

  “I forgive you, my love. I do. And I love you.”

  His whole body relaxes, and he kisses me several times in relief. I nearly dissolve with each kiss, wanting more and more.

  Finally, I remember where we are, and I pull away. Looking around, I see the group’s not even trying to hide that they’re watching us. I laugh. Why should they? We’ve invaded their space with this public display.

  “Everyone, I want you to meet my husband,” I say. “This is Conor.”

  He looks around, as if it just dawned on him that there are others with us. But he quickly puts on his most charming smile and gives a little salute. “Good to meet you all.”

  “You look a lot like someone,” Bryce says.

  “It’s him!” Hannah whispers.

  “You’re the guitarist from Rogue, yes?” Armand says.

  “The hot guitarist,” Geoffrey whispers.

  “Not tonight,” Conor says. “Tonight, I’m only Felicity’s husband, and father to these babies.”

  The group reacts well to this subtle way of asking for some measure of privacy, smiling and segueing into their own conversations.

  Conor kneels in front of the stroller and greets Ella, who has woken at the sound of his voice. She greets him with an open-mouthed smile that is so pure and loving it brings tears to my eyes. There isn’t an ounce of that old jealousy in me as I watch him pull her from the stroller and press her to his chest. All I think as I watch him is that we are a family. And I’ve never been happier—even when he wakes Romeo so that he can hold him too.

  * * *

  Once the babies are fed and settled again, Duarte and Isabel convince us they’re happy to watch them for us so we can go for a walk. They urge us to take all the time we need and I suspect they both see that this isn’t an ordinary reunion, that Conor and I have things we need to talk about.

  I lead him to the Promenade where the ocean shines under a waning full moon. He holds my hand tightly the whole walk, almost as if he’s afraid I’ll run away if he doesn’t. There are still a lot of people milling about and stationed at the cafés and bars that face the view, but I only see him.

  “This is lovely,” he says.

  “It’s a fantastic place. I kept thinking of wanting to share it with you everywhere we went.”

  Pulling me closer to him, he looks down at me and asks, “Good surprise?”

  “Good surprise,” I tell him with a smile, remembering using that line when I showed up unexpectedly at the studio.

  “I couldn’t wait, Fee. I just wanted to be with you, to figure this thing out.”

  “I know. I’m sorry I went away. I realized after I’d gone how drastic that probably felt. But I have to say, it’s been really good. I know what I want.”

  His eyes leave mine and his body tenses in anticipation.

  “I want you,” I tell him.

  The look on his face as his eyes meet mine again is full of wonder and love and relief.

  “I want our family,” I continue. “I want all the messy bits and the hard bits and the bits that make my heart stop because I could just burst from the joy of it all. And I give up on the idea of perfection and what kind of mother I should be because whatever I am, it’s going to be okay. I won’t promise that I’ll never fall down again, but I will promise to ask for help when I need it. And I will promise to trust in you. I just hope you can trust in me again.”

  “Of course, I can, honey. I do.”

  I know he’s sincere. I know this is the fresh start I’d hoped for. Tears come to my eyes.

  “What’s this?” he asks and brushes his thumb over my cheek.

  “Happy tears,” I say with a laugh.

  “God, I love you.”

  I pull him down to me for a kiss, whispering in return, “I love you, Conor.”

  * * *

  “I haven’t stayed in a room this small in a whole lot of years,” Conor says when we return to the apartment.

  “It’s cozy,” I tease.

  The room is lit only by the light of the half-opened bathroom door as we check on the kids in their cots. They don’t stir. I walk around the bed toward the terrace so I can pull down the privacy shade. Before I can close the sliding door and turn around, I feel the heat of Conor’s body behind me.

  With one hand, he pulls my hair aside and presses his lips to my neck. With the other hand, he strokes the back of my bare thigh just under my dress. I can hear murmurs of conversation in the back garden, then a burst of laughter. Even though I know they can’t see us, I close the door. Conor has a way of making it very hard for me to keep quiet when he touches me.

  Instead of touching me, though, he gathers the hem of my dress in his hands and drags it slowly up the length of my body. I raise my arms to help him remove it entirely. Once he’s let it fall to the ground, he grabs me firmly around my middle, holding me to him as he kisses me once more on my neck. His possessive embrace is everything I need. His strong arms make me feel like I’ve returned to my rightful place.

  When he takes my breasts into his hands and gently toys with my nipples, I let my head fall back. He’s still fully clothed but I can feel the hardness of him as he presses into me. Whereas he’s capable of stretching out foreplay until we’re both practically panting with need, I’m ready to cut to the chase tonight. I just want to feel the weight of his body on mine, to hold his defined biceps as he thrusts deep inside me, to watch his face go from intense desire to pure bliss as he finds his release.

  Turning, I reach for his belt buckle, releasing the catch with ease. He pulls off his shirt and lets his jeans fall to the floor. In the dim light, I smile at the sight of him straining against his boxer briefs. That, combined with his cut abs, pecs, and obliques, has me pushing him down onto the bed and climbing on top of him, ready to flip the vision I had of him on top of me.

  I raise myself up so that he can push off his boxer briefs, then pull my panties aside so I can guide him inside me.

  “Take this off,” he says, pulling at my bra.

  I do as he asks while writhing against him.

  “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

  His voice is low, full of heat and desire. After months of dismissing such talk, I finally feel the way he sees me. I pull his hand up to my breast and he uses his other one to squeeze my ass, urging me along.

  “You’re going to make me come,” I warn.

  Sitting up, he holds me tight against him, kissing me deeply. Then he grabs my hips and tells me, “Come for me, honey.”

  I wrap my legs around him as the peak of my orgasm washes over me. I try in vain to stop the whimper of pleasure from crossing my lips. Before I can take a breath, he twists us so he’s on top of me, pulling my knees up high as he rocks his hips against mine.

  “I love you,” I whisper and bite his ear. “I love you in me, fucking me, making me yours.”

  “You are mine,” he grunts, getting closer.

  “Always,” I tell him. I kiss him but then pull away so that when he comes, I can watch his face. It’s just the look I was after. He’s completely satisfied. And I’m the one responsible for that. I laugh softly in relief.

  He looks at me and brushes back my hair. “What?”

  “You make me feel lik
e I’m enough,” I say softly.

  “Oh, honey. You’re so much more than that. ‘Enough’ is not a big enough word for what you are to me. You are absolutely everything.”

  I don’t want to cry anymore. And I especially don’t want to cry while he’s still inside of me. But the tears threaten once again. “This is all I ever needed.”

  “What? A good fuck?” he asks with a smile.

  I laugh. He’s once again done what I needed by making light of things when my emotions threatened to overwhelm me.

  “No, dirty boy,” I say. “This is you. This is the babies. It’s us.”

  He kisses me slowly, tenderly. And I know with certainty that whatever comes our way, we’ll always figure it out together.

  44

  I marvel at how Sophie has designed the perfect, family-friendly album wrap dinner party. She’s engaged an event space and it’s large enough that she’s able to dress up three distinct areas: a kids play corner complete with a ball pit and gaming station for Martin’s kids, a mini-maze made out of plush cushions that can also serve as a playpen, and individual teepees with each child’s name monogrammed on it in case the night goes late enough that they want to lie down for a rest; a lounge area with comfortable sofas and chairs situated in front of a fully stocked bar; and a large round dinner table for the adults.

  While still in Porto, Conor decided he would get the guys back into the studio upon his return so that he could make a final recording of the song he wrote for his father. He told me how emotionally his father had reacted to it and that the more he thought about it, the more he realized he needed to record it, even if it was only ever for himself.

  It’s only been a couple hours since he finalized the track. I still can’t understand how Sophie pulled all this together so quickly, but I am glad, rather than threatened, by her wondrous abilities.

  The rest of our time together in Portugal was a healing experience. I showed Conor all the things I had wanted him to see with us the first time, and we talked every step of the way. I told him I had decided to tell my father I wouldn’t play his game of “half-in” on being a part of my family. But that if he came around and recognized his mistakes, I’d feel compelled to give him the chance to right things. Conor understood and supported the idea. He confessed to having met with Amelia and gave me the letter she’d passed along. It was an honest self-assessment along the lines of what she had told Conor about being in the wrong. She apologized, asked for my forgiveness, said she’d miss my friendship, and also said she was reevaluating her career options, having shuttered her therapy business until she could decide what to do next. It was bittersweet, because while I appreciated her recognition of her errors in judgment, it also made me miss her as a friend. I was left wondering if there could ever be any way back to a friendship. Perhaps we can start over one day.

  The new album has been playing over the speakers positioned near the bar. Conor is by my side on one of the velvet sofas while Lizzy and Sophie’s nanny are minding the kids. The title song, “The Point of No Return” starts and I see Conor instinctively look for and find Gavin standing by the dinner table with Sophie along with James and his wife. The two men exchange a look and a slight nod. It reminds me of when I saw them in the studio during the recording of this song.

  “Do you remember what Gavin told you that day?” I ask. “When you guys finally got the song the way you wanted it and he hugged you afterward?”

  Conor glances at me and I sense he’s going to deny his memory of it, just as he did that day. But then he reconsiders, confiding in me. “He said, ‘I might not have held on to my own life if it weren’t for you. Thank you for saving me.’”

  I can tell by the way he’s retold this that it is verbatim, and I understand why the words would be burned into his memory. Conor was the first person to truly be there for Gavin, to be the one to absorb his hurt and anger over his mother leaving. He was by his side for so many years after that, up until the thing with Sophie. But it’s clear with what Gavin told him after this song that their bond is once more unbreakable. I give Conor’s hand a squeeze as thanks for telling me and he seems grateful that I won’t make him say anything more about it.

  We’re soon called to the dinner table and I find I’m sitting next to Danny Boy. Gavin is on his other side and they’re arguing about whether they’d ever chance going up in one of Richard Branson’s rockets as a space tourist.

  “No fucking way,” Gavin says.

  “Why not, though? Wouldn’t you want to see what it’s all about up there?”

  “That’s what those lovely 4k videos are for. I don’t have to be up there to see what it’s like. Besides, I got kids here on earth, so that’s where I want to be.”

  “It’d be fascinating, I think. Maybe I’ll start saving my earnings for a trip.”

  “Daniel, listen to yourself.”

  “What?”

  “First, at the rate you make, you’ll be eighty before you have the down payment,” Gavin says, and Danny Boy laughs. “And second, they’d never let Roscoe go, so what would you do about that?”

  “They will if I pay ‘em enough.”

  “Again, remember you may be part of our gang here, but we haven’t cut you in on the money side of things.”

  “Yeah yeah,” Danny Boy mutters, but he’s grinning.

  I can see how much he loves being a part of this group. It’s nice that he’s not only included, but fully invested in return. I notice how he’s changed over the last eighteen months. Being sober has seen him put on some needed weight, but he’s still fit. His skin looks smooth and hydrated, a far cry from the blotchiness he used to have. He’s quick with a smile, and even his usual jittery nature has dulled.

  “Stop staring, already,” he tells me.

  “Oh, sorry. Was just thinking.”

  “About what? Finding a toilet to go off to with your man?” He laughs, delighted with bringing up that incident from the studio.

  “No. At least not at the moment,” I tell him with a laugh in return. “I was wondering why Gavin calls you Daniel?”

  “I asked him to.”

  “Why?”

  He shakes his head dismissively and I think he’s going to change the subject. But then he says, “I don’t mind that everyone calls me Danny Boy. It’s just that I got to feeling a long way off from that person. Feels like a lifetime ago that I was him, you know?” He stares off for a minute. “Anyway, a . . . friend suggested I think of myself as Daniel to go along with how I’ve changed, and I took her advice. Felt right.”

  I know he’s talking about Amelia, but I won’t say anything. That’s a promise I’ll keep to her.

  “Sounds like a smart friend,” I tell him.

  His expression changes as he thinks of her. There’s a softening and the corners of his eyes reveal the smile he’s trying to hold back. “She’s so much more than that.”

  I let him get lost in his thoughts for her after that, feeling sad that he and Amelia have these feelings for each other, yet they’re at an impasse, unable to really connect.

  “Reminds me,” he continues, “I owe her a phone call.”

  I try not to smile too broadly at this, but I like being on this side of things.

  “Shay says you’ll be going out to San Francisco to stay with him for a while?” I ask.

  “Yeah, that’s the plan. He’s promised to take me and Roscoe sailing. My kid brother is a fucking sailor,” he says with a shake of his head.

  “Well, maybe you could invite your friend to visit you there? It is a great tourist destination. She might like to see the sights.”

  I just couldn’t hold back from the gentle nudge. They’ll have to sort the rest out for themselves.

  Danny Boy’s eyes go wide. “That’s a great idea!” he says excitedly.

  “I hope it works out.”

  “What have you done?” Conor asks into my ear from my other side.

  I shake my head and look at him with my best innocent face. “
Nothing really. It was just a little suggestion.”

  He wraps his arm around my shoulders and gives me a squeeze. “Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”

  In fact, he has told me this several times, starting with when I put on the same simple black dress I was wearing when he arrived in Porto. He says he loved how I looked in it the moment he saw me stand in the back garden, lit by the overhead amber string lights and the glow of the fire pit. But I think what he loves is the association he has with it. It was me kissing him back without hesitation when he pulled me to him. After almost two days of imagining the worst, including that our marriage was over and that he’d only rarely get to see his kids, my kiss back to him in that moment, in that dress, soothed his tortured heart and he won’t forget it. I’ll gladly wear the dress for him any chance I get. But I’ll also remind him that I’m not going anywhere without him ever again.

  “Conor,” I say, suddenly serious.

  “Yeah?” There’s wariness in his reply.

  “The next time you tell me how attractive I am, I just might do something about it,” I tell him and lean in to kiss him.

  “Please do,” he says in between more kisses. “For the rest of our lives.”

  I pull away enough to look him in the eye. “It’s a promise.”

  And then he gives me that Conor smile. The one that is sexy and confident and all for me.

  Epilogue

  Amelia

  “My dear Ms. Patterson,” Daniel says to my voicemail. “I’d love for this call to be a proper conversation. I miss those with you. Anyway, I have news. Roscoe and I are going to San Francisco for a few months. Finally taking Shay up on his offer of having us out that way. So, anyway, I’m thinking I’ll put an end to these calls. It’s getting a bit pathetic, isn’t it? Me blathering on in a recording to you.” I can hear him take a deep breath. “You know what I’d love, though? I’d love for you to make your own visit to San Francisco. Make a trip out and we can be tourists together. Wouldn’t that be something? I hear they’re big on Irish Coffee there. I could take you for a real drink.”