All that is moot now as we’re standing close together, eyes locked and her hand pumping my cock as the water falls around us.
“Friends don’t do this,” I tell her, pulling her to me for a deep kiss.
And just like that, our once familiar passion is back and we’re kissing and grabbing at each other with the kind of unrestrained need that she had expected us to have when she first got here. I’ve got her pressed against the shower wall and I’m about to push my cock into her when she stops me.
“I’ve been on the pill for over two months,” she says, “but do you want to use a condom to be sure?”
“Two months?” I ask, wondering if that’s enough to be safe.
She kisses me eagerly. “Yes.”
Getting a condom would require leaving the shower and drying off. I’m too far gone with the need to be inside her to do that. And I trust her. She’s not the kind of woman to try to “accidentally” get pregnant.
“Then this is an extra special treat,” I say, sliding into her so that she gasps. “Because I want to feel every bit of your fine pussy.”
“There’s the Daniel I know,” she murmurs into my mouth, and I laugh.
We don’t make it out of the hotel room for a while. We’re too consumed with a proper reunion. It’s a reunion of our bodies, with very little talking except for the odd bit of dirty talk by me. Instead, the room is filled with the sounds of our moans, the crack of my hand slapping her arse, heavy breathing, and her crying out with each orgasm.
Afterward, we order in room service. Sitting at the small table by the windows overlooking the lit-up city, we eat burgers and fries. Her hair is wet, her skin red from where I bit her, or my stubble rubbed her. She’s wearing nothing but the hotel’s white robe and looks gorgeous. I want to fuck her all over again and I tell her so.
“We have a few days yet,” she says with a smile.
“How about we skip sleep, then? I don’t want to waste our visit with that.”
She smiles at me, clearly charmed by this thought.
“I love you,” she says, leaning over the table to kiss me.
I kiss her back but don’t return the sentiment. Thankfully, she’s become accustomed to this and once more lets me off the hook, returning to her meal as if I hadn’t left her hanging.
“So, tomorrow I get to see my first Rogue show,” she says. “And I get to see you in action with the lighting.”
“You’ll watch from the side of the stage, yeah?”
“Yes. Sophie’s coming with the kids. I’ve told her I’d help her with them since she wants Daisy, especially, to see her daddy perform. She bought them both the cutest little headphones to protect their ears.”
“Oh.” As much as I love Daisy, I’m disappointed that Amelia will be co-opted into this position of temporary nanny. This trip was supposed to be for just the two of us.
“Only for the show, love,” she reassures me. “Then, it’s just you and me.”
I squint at her. “You’re a mind reader, are you?”
She laughs. “No. But I do know you. I know you want this to be our time. And it will.”
Sometimes, it’s very hard to keep from telling her I love her. Times like these, where she not only knows me, but makes it clear she wants my happiness.
Instead of breaking down and saying how I feel, I ask, “Is there any part of you that thinks we can extend this? That thinks maybe not having kids is an option?”
Her eyes tear up so quickly that I see the reaction before she’s able to turn away.
Fuck. I just need to shut my stupid gob sometimes.
“Never mind. Ignore that,” I say quickly.
“Is there any part of you that thinks maybe having kids is an option?” she asks quietly.
I don’t reply because I don’t want her to hear my refusal again. I know it’s painful to her.
“Even, love,” she adds quickly, “if you know that I’d take full responsibility? If you just trust me, you don’t have to worry about your fitness to be a father because I don’t worry about it. You can—”
“Stop.”
“I will ensure the well-being of—”
“I said, stop.”
“I just want you to know that we would be in it together, that you don’t have to fear it the way you do. I would make sure—”
I put my hand on hers and she stops. “Please tell me you’re really on the pill.”
“What?”
“You were telling the truth about that, right? I’m not gonna run into you on the street in a few months and find you pregnant like with Jules, right?”
She slides her hand out from under mine and crosses her arms over her chest. “That’s a really shitty thing to say.”
“Well, I’m a shitty person,” I counter. “Remember that.”
“Is this really how you want things to go?”
I ignore that. “Are you really on the pill?”
She gets up so abruptly that I think she’s ready to walk out of the room, dressed in only a robe or not. But she storms off to the bathroom and returns in a flash, setting down a plastic clamshell case in front of me. When I don’t touch it, she grabs it and opens it to show me the circle of small pills along with the empty spaces where she’s already taken the pills.
“Satisfied?” she asks.
I look up at her and see that she’s seething with a mixture of hurt and anger. Grabbing her wrist, I pull her down so she’s sitting on my lap. But she struggles right away to get up, not ready to move past this episode of ours. I bury my face into her neck and wrap my arms around her tightly until she stops fighting me. But very soon after that calmness settles over us, I can feel her whole body trembling. And then I can hear her crying. As much as I hate that I’ve caused this, I hold her tighter and let her cry.
When she finally takes a shaky breath and her tears stop, she peels my arms away from her and goes back into the bathroom.
I haven’t had a drink since the tour kickoff party. It hasn’t always been easy, not with every show, every after party, and every dinner free flowing with the stuff. But I’ve held off.
Now, however, would be stellar fucking time to give in. Now, I’d love to numb myself.
Instead, I stand and go to the bedroom. I sit on the side of the bed and wait for her to come out of the bathroom.
It’s only a few minutes later when she does. She’s pulled her still damp hair back into a knot and dressed in jeans and a fresh tee shirt.
“We should go if you still want to catch that band,” she says.
She’s clearly trying to salvage this trip, which I appreciate. But I’m not sure there’s any way to really do that.
“Listen, I am sorry—truly sorry—that I can’t give you what you want,” I tell her. “I know you won’t feel complete without being a mother. I shouldn’t have asked you whether you could do without it. I just—” I stop myself when I feel the emotion rising in my throat. “I love you, Amelia. So much, that I won’t keep you from finding the happiness you need. I think we should be done after this visit. I think I should free you to find someone who can give you what you really need.”
She’s silent. Still.
She stays like that for a long moment.
And then, with just the slightest movement of her head, she nods.
Just enough to break my heart in two.
45
Amelia
* * *
We end up going out to see the band Daniel was interested in, but neither of us enjoys it. We are surrounded by a crushing crowd, everyone in amazing spirits. The summer night air is warm, and the music is good, but we can’t shake our dark moods.
It’s a terribly awkward thing we’re doing by continuing on with our original plan to spend this time together. There’s no way we can enjoy this when we know this is the end of us. We both know it, but neither of us is willing to throw in the towel.
Though he doesn’t drink, I have a beer during the concert. And then another.
> It’s enough to take the edge off. Enough to fool myself into forgetting about the fact that the man I love is the man I can’t have. Even when I’m with him.
By the time the band is on their encore, I’ve helped myself to a third beer. I’m well buzzed as we’re walking back to the hotel. When I wrap my arm around his waist, I force him to hold me in return. I force him to pretend that we’re okay, if only for tonight.
Back in his hotel room, I strip down to the pretty lingerie set I had brought especially for him and slide into bed. He doesn’t bother undressing, getting into bed with me still in his jeans and button-down shirt. It’s a subconscious layer of protection for him, I know. Still, I force my way into his arms, pressing myself against him until I can’t get any closer.
“Do you believe that I love you,” I murmur into his chest.
“What?”
“Do you believe me when I tell you I love you?”
“Of course, I do.”
“Good. Then this hasn’t all been for nothing.”
“What do you—”
“Have you ever felt loved before?” I raise my head to look at him. “Truly loved?”
In the dim light, I can see him swallow as he considers my question.
“You are the only one who has ever given me that, Amelia.”
Though my eyes are glassy with tears, I smile and stroke his cheek. “See? It’s possible. It’s possible because you are worthy of being loved. And I hope you find it again soon. Don’t close yourself off from love with someone else just because we didn’t work. Okay?”
He looks away from me.
“I mean it, Daniel. Take something good out of this. Promise me, okay?”
“Let’s go to sleep.”
“And don’t forget that you are also capable of love. You’re capable of so much more than you’ll admit to yourself. Someone,” I say and get choked up. I force myself to continue because it’s so important to me that he hear this. “One day, someone else is going to be really lucky to be loved by you.”
With that, he folds me into his arms and holds me tightly. We’re both quiet, but I take comfort in being able to hear the rhythm of his heartbeat. I focus on it until I drift off.
We don’t move from this positioning the whole night.
When I wake a little past eight, I’m able to get up without waking him. I take all my things into the living area of the suite, get dressed, pack, and write a quick note before leaving.
46
Danny Boy
* * *
I don’t think I slept at all. Or if I did, it was so light as to be useless. All I wanted was to hold Amelia, to feel her body against mine, to hear her steady breathing.
And when she pulled away from me, I was awake but acted as though I wasn’t. Because it was clear she wanted to make a quiet getaway. Because I didn’t think I was capable of going through our breakup in the light of day.
Even though I need sleep, I call room service for coffee. I need at least a cup before I can get up the energy to take Roscoe out for a walk.
It’s only when room service knocks at the door that I get up. An efficient young man brings in a tray with a coffee pot, cream, and sugar and sets it on the coffee table. When he’s gone, I realize why he put it there instead of the table where Amelia and I had our dinner last night. We’d placed our used dishes back on the cart they’d come in and rolled it out into the hallway. But the table has two things on it that made the room service fella steer clear.
A blue Tiffany box sits open, revealing the necklace I had given Amelia. Next to it is a short note:
Daniel,
I meant what I said last night. You are worthy.
All my love,
Amelia
I laugh. But only because it helps stave off the tears that threaten to take over.
Roscoe nudges me. As usual, he reminds me to not be so fucking self-centered.
“Okay, buddy. I’ll take the coffee to go, yeah?”
I get a lick on the hand as encouragement.
I borrow a page from my brother and put on a stoic face as Roscoe and I cross through the lobby. I’ve almost made it through when I see Sophie and Conor. They’ve both got on running gear. The flush on her cheeks and the sweat running down his neck tells me they’re coming back rather than just starting out.
“Aye man, you headed out?” Conor asks.
“Yeah, gotta get Roscoe a walk.”
“Is Amelia coming, too?” Sophie looks over my shoulder as if Amelia might be trailing somewhere behind me.
“Eh, no.”
“But she’s here, right? She said she was coming yesterday,” Sophie says.
“She came, and she went. She’s gone. We broke up.”
They exchange a look, but I couldn’t care less about their response to this news.
“I’ll see you at the venue later, yeah?” I don’t wait. Roscoe and I head out through the door held open by the bellhop.
We’re halfway down the block, heading toward Lachine Canal, when Conor jogs up beside me.
“Care for some company?” he asks.
“You don’t need to babysit me.”
“I’m not—”
“Yes, I’m upset. But no, I’m not going to go get fucked up over it, okay?”
“I only wanted to see if you—”
“What I want is to be alone. Thanks, mate. I appreciate you checking on me. But I need to be on my own.”
“Got it,” he says, but keeps walking next to me.
“Well, then fuck off already.”
He laughs. “Thing is, I need to cool down from my run, so I think I’ll walk a bit.”
I stop, and he does too. “What were you and Sophie even doing out together like that?”
“What?”
“How are you two allowed to be alone together? You’ve proven yourselves incapable of keeping your fucking hands off each other, yeah? Maybe you both should give Gavin and Felicity a little respect and steer clear.”
“It’s not like that, Danny Boy. That’s ancient history.”
“Something like that never goes away. You think your wife isn’t holding her breath every time you’re somewhere alone with Sophie?”
“Hey, I know you’re being a dick right now because you’re upset over Amelia, but you can fuck off with your ‘concern’ for Felicity. Don’t use my shit against me.”
I hold up my hands. “Okay, Mr. Perfect. You’ve got it all figured out, I know. Why don’t you fuck off back to the hotel?”
I start walking again and after a second, I realize that Conor’s not following me anymore. I turn around and see him standing there, hands on hips.
“Well, that was fucking easy. Guess you’re not all that concerned about me, after all.”
“Fuck you, man,” he says. He shakes his head and laughs. “You’re such a fucking selfish bastard. I’ve been a good friend to you. I’ve given you more chances than you deserve. And in return, all you do is take.”
I scoff. “Did you really ever expect anything different from me? From me?” I hold my arms out at my sides. “Or have you forgotten who I am? I’m Danny fucking Boy.”
“You’re full of excuses, aren’t you? Always ready to remind anyone who’ll listen that you’ve never changed. But the thing is, people do change. Even you, ya idiot. If you would just get over yourself and accept that it’s okay that you’re not the same old fuckup, you’d be a whole lot happier. Maybe even be able to get Amelia back that way.”
“I don’t want her,” I snap. “She and I are done for good reason.”
“What good reason?”
“I’m not right for her, is all.”
“Just like that? Suddenly not the right fit?”
“Jesus, you nosey bastard. If you must know, she wants kids. I don’t. That’s it. Full stop. There’s no getting around that fact. There’s no compromise when it comes to that. So, it’s over.”
“Fuck’s sake,” he says, with a shake of his head.
“What?”
“You find someone—someone decent—who wants to have a baby with you and you reject her?”
“You don’t get it,” I tell him.
“I do.”
“No.” I shake my head. “You don’t. You have no idea what I have to deal with. You have no idea the thoughts that I have to fight against every single day.”
“I know you got a shitty hand in life right from the start. I get that. But there is more for the taking if you just stop dwelling on where you’ve been and instead focus on where you want to be. You have to decide you want more. Then figure out the rest of how to get it. But don’t just fucking give up before even trying.”
“That’s all well and good, but I think I know more about this than you. A happy little pep talk isn’t going to turn it all around.”
“I know you’re not keen to take advice from me. But the thing you should understand is that if you walk away from the woman who loves you and you never have kids, you will regret it for the rest of your life.”
“You know what I’d regret more?” I don’t wait for him to answer. “Doing it and then not living up to their expectations.”
“So, fucking live up to their expectations!” he shouts, exasperated.
I’m speechless, letting that concept sink in. As if it’s just that easy to go ahead and be what someone else wants or needs me to be. As if I just haven’t been trying hard enough before now.
And then I laugh. First, it’s a small reflection of the incredulity I feel over Conor’s solution. Then, it’s with some of my own exasperation that nothing in my life has ever been as easy as just doing what he says. Because doing so would be consciously going against all of my instincts.
My laughing has a predictable impact on him. He looks irritated, ready to give up and walk away.
But then, he shakes his head and laughs with me.
That turns into a cathartic release, and I laugh harder. Finally, he closes the distance between us and slaps me on the back.
Problematic Love (Rogue Series Book 8) Page 24
