Playing At Love: A Rogue Series Novel

by Lara Ward Cosio

  “Nothing,” he said. “So, you’re saying you’re fine with this show conflicting with the tour schedule?”

  “It’s probably for the best. You know how grating I find most of the new album. I thought we were putting things in the past, but that’s not possible with him singing about it every night.” She gestured to the stage where now only Shay and Martin remained.

  “Don’t tell me you’re only now catching on to the fact that Gavin’s lyrics take directly from his own life. He’s got no filter. He’s fucking famous the world over for it.”

  “I know that,” she snapped. “I’m just not a glutton for punishment like you and Gavin and Sophie are.”

  “Suit yourself, then,” he said and stood up.

  She stood up with him. “Wait. I think it makes sense for us to get married before all of these work opportunities. James said there’s a small window before the start of the tour in about six weeks, and I can make that work on my side, too.”

  Conor watched her for a long moment. “To what end, Colette? What would being married change at this point?”

  “Merde!” she swore. “You are a spineless—”

  To his surprise, she raised her hand as if to slap him. His first reaction was to laugh, which made her even angrier. He reached out and grabbed her poised hand, pulling her fiercely to him and into a constricting hug.

  “Let me go!” She fought against him.

  “Calm the fuck down,” he told her urgently, remembering the cameras that were in the expansive room with them.

  “What would it change at this point? You’ve got to be kidding me!” Her voice was full of unrestrained fury but she stopped struggling in his arms.

  “Jesus, Colette, I wasn’t saying we aren’t getting married.” He slowly released her. “I just want to do it when we have the time to really be together. Why get married and then separate?”

  “You’re manipulating me.”

  He laughed again because he thought he was the one being manipulated. Her eyes flashed with renewed anger. “No, I’m not, honey. I swear,” he said in a calming tone.

  She looked into his bright blue eyes, assessing him. Then she pulled his face close to hers, gripping the back of his neck.

  “If you want to keep me happy, then marry me before the tour like you promised,” she told him.

  “This is bullshit.” He tried but failed to keep his voice low. He pried her fingers from his skin and squeezed her hand in his. “Maybe you’re too young to understand that trying to force this is the wrong way to go.”

  “I’m not too young to understand that when you start acting distracted it has to do with Sophie.”

  He watched her for a moment, surprised by her suggestion that she was in a hurry to get married to keep him from falling back into his obsession with Sophie. But he couldn’t fault her for her suspicions. He had set her up for this the moment he decided a confession was the way to start over again.

  “You haven’t been the same ever since she came back.”

  “Honey, no. If I’ve been distracted it’s because of the band and all that we’re trying to do. It has nothing to do with Sophie.” No, it was no longer about Sophie. But Colette would have no inclination to believe anyone else could have had an effect on him, least of all Felicity. Felicity, who had been the one to occupy his thoughts at the most unexpected moments, as much as he tried to fight it.

  “Then prove it. Focus on us. On our wedding. It doesn’t have to be a big production. But it does have to happen before the tour.”

  She was right to remind him of where his attention should be focused. But being told so still rubbed at him the wrong way.

  “I need to get back,” he said. “Let’s talk more later. You probably don’t want to stay for this. Since the songs bother you so much.”

  “Yes, we’ll talk later,” she said and pressed a hard kiss to his mouth.

  ~

  “What the fuck was that all about?” Martin asked when Conor rejoined them.

  “Jesus, I’m in trouble,” Conor said and laughed at himself. “You know Colette. She likes her drama high. She got herself in a strop, thinking for a second I was saying I didn’t want to get married and she moved to slap me. It was funny, really.”

  “Fucking hilarious, if you ask me,” Shay said flatly.

  The flaws in their relationship were becoming harder to ignore. The only time they were in sync with each other was in bed and even then it was a surface-level connection. But he continued to try to convince himself they had something worth fighting for, that his initial idea to commit to her had been the correct thing.

  For the first time in his adult life, he was choosing to make decisions with his head instead of his heart. This tactic was new and he was determined to stick with it. He had spent too many years with his heart tangled up in—mostly—unrequited feelings for Sophie. It was time to make some conscious decisions.

  After the trip to London almost a month ago, he had focused on Colette and their relationship. He stopped his occasional phone calls and outings with Felicity and even scaled back the amount of time he spent with Gavin in hope that more time with Colette would mean their connection would be strengthened.

  But she had been moody with him, which he only now understood was due to her festering unhappiness at the new album’s focus as well as his postponement of the wedding. He knew he couldn’t fix the former but he could do something about the latter.

  He looked up in time to see Colette leaving through the side door. Her departure gave him a sense of relief he knew wasn’t a good sign.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  James had arranged through the record company for a Dassault Falcon 900EX private jet for this leg of the mini media tour of the States. This bit of luxury afforded them space for sixteen passengers spread among plush leather chairs and sofas, the seating areas mixed with table or coffee table space. The loaner would be replaced for the full-scale tour by a commercial Airbus 320 customized to accommodate 64 passengers and include the distinctive “Rogue” logo on the outside body.

  The flight from Dublin to New York encountered some significant turbulence about halfway over but most on board were experienced flyers and didn’t flinch. Conor glanced up from his current novel, A Brief History of Seven Killings, and noticed Felicity hunched over with her head in her hands, obviously not taking things as well as the rest.

  Putting the Marlon James book aside, he got up and sat in the empty seat next to her. She didn’t look up. After a moment he could hear faint whispers and realized she was praying. It alarmed him that she was so fearful. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to him.

  “It’s okay, Fee. I’ve got you,” he murmured before kissing the top of her head.

  A full five minutes later, the skies stopped fighting them and their passage was once again smooth. He could feel her slowly relax under his arm.

  “Thank you, Conor,” she said as the color began to find her cheeks again.

  “You all right? Let’s have a drink, yeah?” He pushed the call button for the flight attendant.

  “Yes, definitely.”

  Once they had been plied with drinks, she loosened her seat belt and turned to face him.

  “Well, that was awful.”

  “I didn’t know you were afraid of flying.”

  “I’m not afraid of flying. I’m afraid of crashing,” she said with a smile.

  He watched her for a moment, taking her in. It felt like they hadn’t spent any time together in ages. When he had seen her it was in relation to all of the media and documentary issues and had been strictly business. But, now her guard was down and he was glad for it.

  “Oh hey,” she said and dug through her purse. “I thought I’d show you something.”

  She retrieved her cell phone and pulled up a text, then held out the device for him to see.

  The sender was marked DICK and the message said “Did we make a mistake?”

  “What’s this?”

>   “It’s from Richard. He hates being called Dick, so naturally that’s what I now call him. He sent it yesterday.”

  The thought of her ex-husband reaching out to her with the mind to rekindle things made his chest tighten. It was more than the reflexive jealousy he had felt before when she’d flirted with Jackson or given Gavin the briefest of kisses. This was a primal urge to squash any potential connection she could be forming again with her ex.

  “Fuck him,” he said.

  “Yeah, exactly,” she said to his relief. “I didn’t even respond. Did we make a mistake? As if I did something to make him leave me. Ha!”

  She downed her glass of wine and he refilled it with the bottle they’d been left.

  Her attitude was defiant but he could see she was shaken just by talking about it.

  “Hey, look at me,” he told her and she slowly met his eyes. He spoke deliberately, emphatically. “Fuck. Him. He does not deserve you spending more than a second thinking about him. He took years of your love and threw it away. Fuck him.”

  After a moment, a smile spread over her face and she nodded. “You’re right. Fuck him.”

  “This sounds like an interesting conversation,” Sophie said as she made her way up the aisle.

  Conor looked up at her from his chair, feeling oddly in the wrong. Ever since the conversation with Sophie at his house, he had gradually, finally, released his idealized vision of her. She had owned his heart for so long that it began to feel like sweet freedom to have it back to himself. When he looked at her now, he still felt the undeniable pull of sexual attraction to her, and he knew he would always be inordinately fond of her but he was relieved to realize that his heart no longer ached at not being with her.

  At the moment, however, he had a vague sense of being caught cheating. He wasn’t sure if the guilt was due to the worry he appeared to be cheating on Colette or cheating on Sophie, but he did know that it was due to the affection he didn’t try to hide for Felicity.

  “CQ was giving me some good advice about my ex,” Felicity said.

  Conor recognized that she called him CQ whenever she was trying to be casual or create distance between them and it disappointed him that their moment of intimacy was over.

  “You didn’t text him back, did you?” Sophie asked and sat down in one of the chairs facing them.

  “No, no no,” Felicity said.

  Nodding to himself, Conor saw that if Sophie knew about Richard, then Felicity hadn’t been sharing anything especially with him. Apparently she told everyone her personal sob stories.

  “I’ll let you two chat,” he said and got up.

  The two women barely acknowledged him as they put their heads together and started talking.

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  Gavin stood at the living area windows taking in the uniquely New York nightscape. After they had landed in JFK, everyone separated to go to the hotel and shake off some of the jet-lag while Sophie and Gavin went to her Upper West Side apartment. She had proudly walked him over hardwood floors, pointing out the one full wall of rustic bricks in the open living space. The fireplace was crowned with a marble mantle and large windows displayed a dizzying view of the city, with Central Park just two blocks behind high-rise buildings.

  Now Sophie lit the dozens of candles scattered around the room. The fire crackling under the mantle had been expertly built by the caterers. The overhead lights were pulled dim so the candles and the city lights could provide a cozy atmosphere perfect for the chill of the November weather.

  “Put on some music,” Sophie said as she passed by Gavin.

  He tore his eyes away from the view and found his way to her sound system. It was a serviceable device but definitely needed an upgrading. He felt comfortable in this place of hers, the place she had taken great pains to refer to as “their New York apartment.” But she had bought it on her own while they were separated and it was going to take him some time to feel as if he had ownership of it, too. Despite issues like that, he was grateful for how easy everything else with them felt. There wasn’t a moment when he regretted being together again since she came home with him from Paris. Even seeing her interact with Conor wasn’t as bad as he feared. Conor being preoccupied by Colette was helpful with that. But then again, so was the thing going on with him and Felicity. He couldn’t quite tell what was happening, but it was obvious enough that some sort of attraction kept pulling them together.

  “Ooh, that’s perfect,” Sophie said as she heard Nina Simone’s distinctive voice croon Birds flying high, you know how I feel from the song “Feeling Good.”

  “Aye, you’ve been catching up with Felicity, right?”

  “Yeah. It’s been great having her back home.”

  “What do you suppose is going on with her and Con?”

  “I’m glad you brought that up!” she said conspiratorially. “There does seem to be something between them, right?”

  “Do you think Colette sees it?”

  “She would never deign to think of someone as normal as Felicity to be any kind of competition.”

  Gavin shook his head. “I swear I don’t know why he’s marrying her.”

  “Well, he’s putting it off pretty well, isn’t he?”

  “I don’t know. He said something on the way over about the clock running down on a ceremony in a few weeks with a big reception at a later time.”

  “Oh, no. It would be pretty awful to find yourself married to the wrong person, wouldn’t it?”

  He took her face in his hands and kissed her. “I wouldn’t know anything about that.”

  “Oh, baby. I love you. You know that?”

  “I do know it, darlin’. And I love you.”

  She felt the thrill of this declaration rush through her chest and smiled at how he could still give her butterflies.

  ~

  Given that all the Irish folks were on her home turf, Sophie had designed a menu with the caterers to emphasize American flavors. They started with a fresh Caesar salad with anchovies. That was followed by New York strip steak grilled to medium-rare and presented with bleu cheese butter and peppercorn-cognac sauce. The entrée was complemented with medallions of baked potatoes and roasted Brussels sprouts with lardon. Dessert was apple pie bread pudding with freshly churned vanilla caramel ice cream.

  The dining table was laden with food and wine as everyone chatted and the conversation moved seamlessly from one topic to another. They were so comfortable that the documentary crew filming them from the edges of the room had quickly ceased to feel intrusive.

  Conor had skipped the hotel in lieu of meeting up with Colette at her West Village apartment and now they were together at the dinner table but turned in opposite directions as he spoke to Felicity and she spoke to her friend Miranda. Miranda was a South African model on the rise. She was carving out a spot in the industry for being a natural redhead with a slight gap in her front teeth who could pull off mass appeal. Colette had brought her along at the last minute and Sophie didn’t blame her for wanting the buffer.

  Shay and Jessica sat opposite them, chatting easily with each other. Martin, James, and Gavin were debating the merits of radio interviews versus podcasts as the former had a fleeting impact and the latter could be listened to repeatedly as well as passed around. James was in favor of radio for sentimental reasons as the boys had done the circuits ad nauseam at their start and gained a fan base by doing so. Martin and Gavin lobbied to add more podcasts into the mix to get the best of both worlds.

  Sophie took a moment to sit back in her chair and survey the table. It made her happy to entertain this group and to see everyone getting along. A scaled back road and production crew for the live shows was also traveling with them, but she had deliberately included just the band and James for this dinner, hoping to solidify their bond.

  Her eyes fell upon Conor and she took in the way he was smiling at something Felicity was saying. He was always quick with a smile and it had the effect of lighting up his whole face. But
this particular smile was more than a reflex. It was with a pang of sadness that she recognized it as being similar to the one he used to bestow upon her, the one that had revealed his adoration for her.

  It was bittersweet to see him moving on. There would always be an undercurrent to their friendship, the feeling that in other circumstances they could have loved each other well. But it wasn’t to be, and in the end all she wanted was his happiness. The fact that she had never seen him look at Colette as he did Felicity spoke volumes.

  Felicity excused herself to go to the restroom and Conor glanced over and met Sophie’s eyes.

  “What?” he mouthed.

  Sophie blinked to shake herself from her thoughts and waved her hand apologetically.

  Gavin absently put his arm around her as he kept talking with James and Martin and it made her wonder at all the times Conor must have looked at her and had the same conflicted thought process she was having.

  Conor watched her for a moment and then subtly gestured for her to follow him as he got up. He headed into the kitchen. After a beat, she whispered to Gavin that she would be right back and got up as well.

  ~

  “This is nice,” Conor said when she came upon him in the kitchen. “The dinner, I mean. Having all of us here, for one of your famous get togethers.”

  “I was just thinking that myself,” she said and reached into the refrigerator for a bottle of sparkling water.

  “Yeah? And what else was going on in that head of yours?” He leaned against the counter and folded his arms across his chest as he watched her.

  “You think you know me, huh?” she asked with a smile.

  He raised his eyebrows. “Pretty well.”

  Of course, he did. He had made a study of her over the years. He had picked up her pieces when Gavin tore her apart. He had been the one to talk with her late into the night and been there when she was up early in the morning. He had teased her and toyed with her, and finally loved her as a friend and as a woman. In the end, he had known her body as well, and she felt the flush of heat fill her as she still vividly remembered the sensuality of his touch.