Problematic Love (Rogue Series Book 8)

by Lara Ward Cosio

  “I can’t accept this. It’s too much.”

  “Amelia, it’s a gift. You have to accept it.”

  “How much did this cost?”

  “What does that matter? I thought it would look pretty on you, so I got it.”

  “I can look it up online, so you might as well tell me.”

  “Eh, just over ten grand, I think.”

  She blanches. “You can’t spend that kind of money on me.”

  “I can, and I did. Baby, I know we’re sort of in a fucked-up place, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love you. I want you to wear this necklace and remember that.”

  Her eyes tear up and I know it’s in large part due to me actually telling her I love her after I’ve avoided doing so for the past couple weeks. I figure there’s no use in denying it. And things can’t actually get much worse with us, so fuck it.

  But because I don’t want to dwell on this sentiment, I change the subject. “Now, do me a favor and take off that tee shirt, but put on the necklace. I want to see just it and your beautiful tits. Maybe even take a picture to have on the road, yeah?”

  She laughs with a little shake of her head. And then she does what I ask.

  43

  Amelia

  * * *

  The next six weeks make for an easy transition as Rogue is touring Europe first, so I’m able to make quick trips to London, Berlin, Paris, and Rome to be with Daniel. Our reunions are thrilling, both because we miss each other while apart and also because we’re in fantastic cities which ramp up the romance. All of our issues have been pushed aside in favor of doing what I had suggested before—simply enjoying each other. During this time, Daniel hasn’t had any alcohol and I’m cautiously optimistic that he’ll keep it up.

  It’s when Rogue heads to Australia and then New Zealand that the true separation begins. Daniel is consistent in reaching out to me and we keep our connection going, but I miss being with him.

  I have plenty to occupy me, though, with my new job. It turns out to be a wonderful fit. I love being around the children and the office administration and faculty are a group of lovely people. A lot of my evenings are spent with Moira, helping her with Max since the early stages of her pregnancy have her so exhausted. I’ve also been included on group texts with Sophie, Felicity, Jessica, and Lainey which has been such an unexpected joy. They are a great group of women.

  Felicity and I take a few tentative steps back into a friendship, as well. We met for a drink once and I think we both kept it purposely short so as not to brush past the things we had been through.

  The second time is an unexpected invitation to her home. She has Sophie and me over for a casual dinner. We sit in the living area and watch their four children play for hours while chatting and enjoying wine and snacks. Once the kids are settled for the night, we sit down to eat and that’s when I realize that Sophie hasn’t been drinking any wine.

  “Sophie, can I ask something personal?”

  She smiles at me as if she knows what I might ask. “Sure.”

  “Is there a reason you’re not drinking tonight?”

  “There could be,” she says sheepishly. “At least I’m hoping there is. It’s too early to tell, though.”

  “I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you,” I say.

  “Thank you. If I am pregnant, I’m going to have to fight Gavin over the name.”

  “Why? What is he thinking?” Felicity asks.

  “He thinks we should finally be just like those other celebrity couples who name their children after the city they were conceived in.”

  We laugh at that.

  “So, what are the contenders?” I ask.

  She winces. “Liverpool, Cardiff, or Brussels.”

  The three of us burst out into laughter once more. This time it is sustained as we try on “Liverpool McManus” or “Brussels McManus” with each other. The biggest laugh comes when we suggest “Cardi” as a nickname for “Cardiff” and proclaim their child will be the new Cardi B, only he or she will be Cardi M.

  Once we’ve regained ourselves, Sophie says, “I know he’s only kidding, though. But it is fun to think we made this one on tour. That’ll be our first.”

  I can feel Felicity’s eyes on me, but I don’t look her way, instead focusing on the food. She hasn’t tried to hide the fact that she ordered in the meal since she doesn’t care to cook. It’s delicious and upscale anyway—tender filet mignon, roasted potatoes, and asparagus.

  “Amelia,” Felicity says slowly, forcing me to look at her.

  “Yes?”

  “Maybe you could share with Sophie the predicament you’re in with Danny Boy? She’s always got a great perspective on things.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” I say, and spear a potato with my fork.

  “It’s okay,” Sophie says.

  I nod my thanks.

  “I just think,” Felicity says, “it might be helpful, if nothing else, to share so that we’re more . . . sensitive to what you might be feeling.”

  Silence falls over us as I consider this. I know Felicity is coming from a good place, that she really does want to help, but it’s still hard to admit that other people’s happiness strikes a bittersweet nerve with me. At the same time, I also understand the value in talking honestly about such things.

  “Well,” I finally say, “it’s simple, really. I took this huge risk to be with Daniel and ended up falling head over heels.” I smile and toy with the necklace he gave me. I wear it almost daily, even if I just tuck it under the shirt I’m wearing at school. “We had this roller coaster of a ride at the start and it was just so unconventional. I never really believed it would last. But all too quickly, I realized he was it for me.” I take a sip of wine, too aware of the sweet smile Sophie is bestowing upon me. She thinks this is the tale of a nice love story. And it is, in a way. But it’s also not. “And then we found out that we want completely different things. I want to be a mother. Rather desperately, it seems.” I attempt a self-deprecating laugh before continuing. “And he is absolutely convinced he never wants to be a father.”

  “Oh, no,” Sophie says softly. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

  I shrug but there’s no stopping the tears, especially after Felicity puts a warm hand on my shoulder.

  “The odd thing is that he’s so good with kids,” Sophie says. “He and Daisy are the cutest friends.”

  Nodding, I take a contemplative sip of wine. “He says he loves other people’s kids.”

  “You’re sure he can’t be convinced?” Felicity asks.

  “I’m sure. Unfortunately—or not, as the case may be—I understand why he’s so adamant. I know what he went through as a child. I know how hard he’s tried to numb himself to all that. He honestly does not trust himself to be a father. How can I force him into something as important as this?”

  We’re all quiet in response to that question because no one wants to say out loud that the answer is you can’t force a person to go against their wishes on this.

  “And so, what will happen with you two?” Sophie asks.

  “Well, I made the mistake of telling him we wouldn’t be together after this year.”

  “Mistake?” Felicity asks.

  “Because it’s a horrible thing to do,” I reply. “I made it clear we’re just running out the clock on us. How can you enjoy each other knowing that?”

  Felicity gets an “ah-ha” look and then follows it with, “Is that why he got so drunk at the tour launch party?”

  “Pretty much. See, and you said I wouldn’t be a threat to his sobriety,” I say with a laugh. I’m reminding her of that time she told me my excuse for not being with Daniel before I up and decided to go to San Francisco, was bogus.

  “You’re still not,” she replies. “You know that’s not in your power, don’t you?”

  “It’s really not,” Sophie agrees.

  The look on her face is enough to remind me of the tabloids featuring splashy photos several years back of Gavin looking g
aunt when he was an admitted cocaine abuser.

  “We women take on these roles, though, don’t we?” Sophie continues. “We think we can fix these men of ours. We think we can be their saviors. But the only thing we can do is be there for them. And hope they figure it out themselves.”

  There’s a brief pause as we consider that.

  “I told you she’s got a good perspective on things,” Felicity says, and leans over to give me a one-armed hug.

  “You both are wonderful,” I say. “Thank you so much for letting me burden you with all that.”

  “It’s no burden,” Felicity says. “It’s just what friends do.”

  We share a meaningful look before I raise my glass to her for a toast. She taps her glass against mine, creating a satisfying chime. I smile and shake my head at the turn of events in my life. On the one hand, I have these lovely new friends, and on the other, I’ve got to figure out how I’m going to let Daniel go.

  44

  Montreal

  * * *

  Danny Boy

  * * *

  I love the tour life. I love staying in nice hotels. I love having my dirty laundry whisked away and brought back clean. I love taking Roscoe and exploring the cities we land in. I love eating good meals with my brother and the guys while we laugh and talk shit. I love being a part of creating a fantastic live show with the bit I have in the lighting. I love the energy and camaraderie of the whole gang involved in the tour.

  But come summer time, I fucking miss Amelia like I never could have imagined.

  Rogue’s most recent leg has been sort of zig-zagging across America and Canada. It’s been a fucking blast. But the video chats and texts with Amelia haven’t been enough to fill the ache and longing I feel for her. Though I’m glad she’s dedicating herself to her new job and seems to really be loving it, I wish she didn’t have that commitment. I wish she was free to travel with me. That would have made this otherwise fantastic journey perfect.

  I’ve been looking forward to our reunion in Montreal since the day we planned it, just before I left on the tour. The pity is that even though school has recessed for the summer holiday, she has only a few days before she needs to get back for some kind of continuing education training. But I plan on enjoying her while she’s here rather than being sad about her having to go so soon.

  She insisted on finding her own way to our hotel to meet me rather than have me pick her up at the airport. Rather than wait like a useless idiot in my room, though, I’m loitering in the main hotel lobby. Like a useless idiot.

  I’m nervous to see her. I’m nervous to find out if we’ll still have our connection after not being together for over three months.

  Roscoe leans against my leg, reminding me he thought we’d be off for a good long walk.

  “Fuck it,” I murmur. “Let’s go around the block at least, Roscoe buddy.”

  His ears perk up and I give him a good rub before inclining my head. That’s all he needs to know we’re heading out.

  The city is a beautiful one, especially with the weather so clear and warm. On top of that, there’s a great vibe about it because our stay coincides with the annual Mural Festival, which centers around a great number of local artists’ large-scale works on buildings. It also includes street vendors of all kinds and live music out in the open.

  I’m lost in thoughts of whether Amelia will have brought the right shoes because I’ve got big plans to take her out on a trek along St-Laurent to see all the murals, when I run right into her.

  Only, for a second, I don’t know it’s her.

  She’s lost weight. Her hair is cut and straightened so it only falls to her shoulders. She’s got long fringe, too, pulled to the side, which only takes away from the loveliness of her heart-shaped face. And she’s wearing more eye makeup than I’ve ever seen her wear. On top of all that, she’s got on a tight white and blue striped top with a scoop neck that gives a tasty peek at her cleavage under the necklace I gave her. She’s got that paired with dark jeans that are cropped at the ankle to show off the strappy sandals she’s wearing.

  “Daniel!” she says with a bright smile.

  When she throws her arms around my neck and hugs me, her body feels different.

  She’s not the same.

  “Where’d you go?” I ask and kiss her quickly.

  “What?”

  “Where’d my Amelia go? You’ve changed.”

  “No time for donuts with the new job,” she says with a laugh. “And I’ve been going to the gym with some of my new work friends. Oh, and I went to Sophie’s salon for a new look.”

  “I loved the old look,” I tell her and watch her face fall. “But you’re still lovely as ever.”

  That does the trick to perk her back up and she gifts me with a smile.

  “Let’s drop off your bag and maybe you can put on some better shoes? We’re going to be doing some walking today.”

  “Oh. Okay, yeah.”

  There’s some kind of disappointment in her voice but I’m not sure why. Rather than get into a discussion over it, I take her hand and lead her into the hotel.

  That vague sense that she’s lost her earlier happiness from when she first saw me persists through the lift ride up to my room, after she “refreshes” herself in the bathroom, and once she’s changed into runners and is ready to depart.

  The whole time, I’ve been telling her about the mural festival and how I’ve got the route mapped out for us, that it’ll end up leading us to a street lined with vendors selling crafts, art, and food, and that tonight we’ll watch one of the live bands playing in a vacant lot squeezed between two buildings. She’s responded with “uh huh” and “oh really?” but hasn’t seemed terribly interested.

  “Ready, then?” I ask, standing.

  “If you are.”

  I hear some sort of hesitation in that response, but I still don’t know what’s bothering her. It’s not in my nature to indulge the subtleties of emotional discontent, so I ignore it.

  “Grand. Let’s go check it out.”

  She seems to stall, but by the time I get to the door with Roscoe, she’s in motion, too.

  We spend the day just as I’d planned and it’s fantastic. Amelia shakes off whatever it was that seemed to be weighing her down and we get back to our groove. We laugh, and chat, and get along as well as we had in Dublin. It’s easy and exactly what I’d been needing.

  By the time it gets dark, we’ve spent the hot, sunny day on our feet, and we’re a bit baked. I had thought we’d grab some sort of quick dinner before heading over to see one of the live band, but Amelia is running four hours ahead and is ready for a shower and a nice meal.

  “I promise, I’ll be revived, and we can go out after that,” she tells me as we head down the hall to my room.

  “Of course, sure. I’d forgotten you’d be jet-lagged,” I tell her. “I think Roscoe’s ready for rest, too.”

  I carry bottled water and a collapsible bowl for him whenever we’re out, but he’s been on the move along with us all day. There’s no doubt he’d stick loyally by my side if we stayed out, but it’s probably best if he’s in for the night.

  Another fabulous perk of the tour life is all the arrangements made on Roscoe’s behalf. That includes getting him accepted into fancy hotels like this one—the Ritz Carlton—and having a constant supply of dog food dropped off for him. We want for nothing.

  Well, I have been wanting Amelia to be here. And now she is, and it’s been great to know we do still have that connection from before. But at the same time, I’m struck by the nagging feeling that I really shouldn’t enjoy our time together too much. Because I know that soon, she won’t be a part of my life.

  Inside the suite, I set Roscoe up with fresh water and food while Amelia digs through her bag.

  “I won’t be too long,” she says.

  “Okay, take your time.”

  “Or maybe, you’d . . . .”

  I look over at her when she trails off. The suggest
ion is that I join her in the shower. When I hesitate a beat too long, she waves her hand to dismiss the idea and disappears into the en suite.

  The look of embarrassed disappointment on her face was unmistakable. It makes me realize that I haven’t been affectionate with her other than our couple of quick kisses when she first got here. It was a far cry from the kind of reunion we’d had when we met up after a few days apart after coming back from San Francisco. I could barely keep from fucking her in the street. But today, I haven’t so much as held her hand, let alone made her feel like I can’t wait to devour her.

  Without realizing it, I’ve treated her as a friend today, rather than my lover.

  But why? Because I’m afraid to get too intimate with her? As if sex is something more than a good time and a release?

  What am I becoming? A dopey girl who thinks sex means something?

  Well, fuck that.

  Time to get back to where we were. Time to reignite our chemistry and make this thing we have whole again.

  Even though I know we’re destined to break apart.

  Stripping off my clothes, I slowly open the bathroom door. It’s filled with steam from the shower running. Amelia has her eyes closed and her head tipped back to wet her hair. I get closer, so I can get a good look at this new body of hers. Her curves are still there, just less pronounced. Her tits, thank god, are still fantastic. And her arse is still worship-worth. That view is enough to get me hard.

  She turns to me with a start as I open the shower door and join her. Then she looks down and sees me ready to go.

  “Hi,” she says with a little smile.

  “Hey, baby. We missed you.”

  “We?”

  Pulling her hand to me so she’s got my cock in a firm grasp, I nod. “The both of us.”

  She laughs. “Why didn’t you say so earlier? I almost felt like you’d friend-zoned me.”

  Ah, so that’s why she seemed in an odd mood earlier. Of course, she would have sensed right away what it took me all day to sort out.