“Where are we going on this walk of yours?” he asks.
There’s so much more than the obvious in that simple question. He’s offering me yet another chance. He’s volunteering a way forward, a way to move on from this hard discussion we’ve been having. It tells me that even if he doesn’t agree with my decision about Amelia and not having kids, he’ll still be my friend. And all in a rush, I have the desire to be a better friend to him. To do more than simply take.
I nod my head toward the road in front of us. “This way. I’ll buy you breakfast, yeah?”
“Grand. I’m starved.”
When I start walking, he’s by my side, matching my gait, and his mere presence is a relief.
47
Napa
* * *
Danny Boy
* * *
Just days after Amelia left Montreal, Jessica gave birth to a baby girl named Carmen. The name was chosen by Jessica in homage to Carmen de Lavallade, one of the first African American ballerinas to perform at the Metropolitan. We were lucky that the tour stop at the time was in Ohio, not a far hop to get to San Francisco in time for the big event.
Shay had insisted that I go with him, and it was an amazing experience. I didn’t intrude upon the actual birth, of course, but I was the third person to hold Carmen and that’s a gift I’ll never forget. It got us bonding right away, making me a very happy uncle. I’m madly in love with Carmen. She’s a mini Jessica, with dimples and long legs. Shay and I privately agree that this is a good sign. If his kid takes this heavily after Jessica, then the odds are good that she’ll end up okay, not like our side of the family.
It was a struggle not to call Amelia to share the news with her. But I knew that if I were to really let her go, to offer her the freedom to find the happiness she truly deserved, I had to keep my distance. There would be no rambling voicemails or suggestive texts. It had to be a clean break.
As much as Carmen coming along lifted my spirits, being back on the road as the tour moves on is a reminder of what I lost in being without Amelia. The guys make a huge, obvious effort to distract me, to keep me busy with them instead of wandering off on my own where I’d only find trouble.
At every stop, in every new hotel room, I take the Tiffany box Amelia left behind and set it open on the nightstand. I do this as a reminder of the time we had together. I do this because I’m a fucking glutton for the pain. I want to feel it. I don’t want to numb it. I want the reminder that she gave me back the thing I told her was my way of making sure she knew I loved her. Every time I see it is a fresh punch to the gut. It keeps me from phoning her. It keeps me from thinking there will ever be another chance for us.
There’s also a part of me that thinks leaving it out might cause some enterprising hotel cleaning lady to take it. It might be better all together if I didn’t have the reminder. But it never moves from the nightstand.
As the weeks, then months go on, I get into a groove. It’s a new life where I don’t have Amelia either as my therapist to help me sort my shit, or as my lover to give me the intimate kind of support I crave. And I don’t just mean sex. I mean, she was everything I needed. She was my friend, she was the person who was always up for anything with me, she was my one, as the song goes.
And then she was gone.
To my surprise, I haven’t fallen back on the numbing crutch of alcohol. I haven’t gotten anywhere close to giving in to heroin, either. I’ve just been existing. Sometimes with a good laugh with the lads. Sometimes in a darker place that isn’t quite as all-consuming as it’s always been in the past. And always with Roscoe by my side.
Eventually, we get to the planned break in the tour. It was arranged this way so that Shay and Jessica could get married. I only realized recently, that he knew he’d ask Jessica to marry him well before he actually did, because he’s the reason this three-week break in the tour is happening. Instead of heading to Dublin, we all converge on the estate Shay has rented in Napa, California.
The wedding will be in a few days at a local winery. Jessica’s family and more friends will come in for that, but all in all it won’t be a large group. It looks to be an event suitable to the couple themselves: elegant, quiet, and special.
Jessica, with Sophie’s help, has planned for our time here to be something of a mini-retreat. We’ve been charging ahead on this tour without a lot of downtime. The goal has been to get the tour done in a shorter time than the band normally would, so that they can all have a lengthy break to be with their families. With Carmen coming into the picture, every one of the guys has kids. And while music is a huge priority in their lives, it’s not the only priority anymore.
Our first day at the house is a lovely mix of lounging by the pool overlooking vineyard-covered hills, Roscoe and me chasing after Daisy and Martin’s kids, and eating well. The plantation-style, seven-bedroom home is the perfect location for our group. Besides the huge lawn by the pool, there’s a bocce court, a half-basketball court, and a tennis court. Shay and Jessica have secured their privacy by claiming the guest house, leaving the main house free for the rest of the guys in the band and me. Dinner is al fresco and prepared by staff who not only excel at the preparation of the food, but also know how to come and go with the utmost discretion.
The spirits are high as everyone passes around the family-style BBQ offerings. I’ve got Carmen cradled to my chest with one arm and use my free hand to pluck a rib from the platter in front of me. She’s almost three months old and her skin has darkened some since she was born. But with her mother being only half African American and her father being the whitest of white Irishmen, she probably won’t change much more. The shape of her eyes have just a hint of Jessica’s Chinese heritage, but they’re the same rich dark pools as hers, and are all the more striking because she’s got a head of sandy blonde hair, the only thing Shay seems to have passed on at this point. Yep, she’s a stunner already. And she’s my pleasure to look after while Shay and Jessica play host to the group.
Not that they need much minding. We all know each other so well that it’s easy to see that our time here will be a natural flow of coming together for meals and play time and then moving apart without need for explanation when a nap or other alone time is in order.
The wind picks up and I instinctively shield Carmen from it.
“You’re good at that,” Lainey tells me with a nod to Carmen.
Though I don’t know her well, I like Lainey. What I like really, is that she’s good for Martin. He’s never happier than when he’s got her and his kids in one spot, so it’s obvious how thrilled he is with this holiday break. He’s also been in countdown mode. When the tour ends, he and Lainey will officially live together.
“This one makes it easy,” I say, looking down at Carmen. She’s sleeping and with her eyes closed, I’m mesmerized by her long, dark lashes.
“She is cute.”
“You and Marty up next on this whole baby train thing the band has going?” Remarkably, Sophie is pregnant again. She’s almost six months in.
“No.”
I can’t tell by her tone how to take her answer. Looking at her, I see she’s not at all upset. She seems rather serene about it, in fact.
“You don’t want kids?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “I’ve never had that desire. I’m just not maternal, I guess.”
“And Marty’s already got his three boys, so he’s probably not too bothered by that.” I realize after I’ve said it that I probably should have kept that thought to myself.
But she doesn’t seem offended. “Yes, I think it works out fine that way.”
“What would happen if Marty did want kids with you? Would you give in to make him happy or would you walk away from him?”
Now, she looks surprised. “I, um, I don’t know.”
“See? Not an easy thing to sort out, is it?”
“Theoretically, you mean?” she asks with a wry smile.
“Exactly.” I shouldn’t have ever said as
much as I did. Since I can’t retract my words, I realize my best course of action is to shut up.
“Well, theoretically, I’d have to think pretty hard about it. I’d have to really know if a child was essential to his happiness.”
“And if it was?” I ask too quickly, disregarding my plan to stop speaking.
“I’d probably figure out how to give him what he needs.”
“Even if you’re dead set against being a father?” I catch myself. “I mean, a mother?”
She looks up, focusing on the leaves of the lush sycamore tree partially giving us shade, lost in thought. I watch as she runs her hand through her glossy dark hair. She’s got the same kind of striking good looks that Sophie and Conor have. They’re all people who turn heads. But, right now, she’s wearing no makeup that I can detect, has on a simple sundress, and is, oddly enough, taking my question seriously.
When she levels her big gray eyes on me, I get a flash of what makes her a movie star. Her gaze is almost hypnotic. I feel myself being drawn in and craving what she might say.
“If Martin couldn’t be truly satisfied without having another child, then, yes, I would have one with him.”
“But why? If you’re not cut out for motherhood, if you have no desire, then why would you do it? How could you believe you’d even be good at it if you don’t want it?”
“This is all still theoretically, right?” she asks with a laugh.
I blink and try to pull back from seeming so anxious. Clearing my throat, I say, “Yes, it is.”
“Then, I would say the reason I’d go against my own desires is because I’d want his happiness that much more than my own. And, I think the other key thing is that if he really wanted a baby with me, I’d have to believe that he sees something in me worthy of that, you know? That he trusts me to be a mother to his child says a lot. So, if nothing else, I’d know I could rely on him to help me figure out a way to not . . . fuck it up, for lack of a better description.” She laughs and doing so lights up her whole face.
I take a deep breath and shake my head a little. “Well, that’s a hell of an answer.”
“I suppose so,” she agrees. “But you asked.”
I look at her with a smile. I like her teasing way. And her honesty. She’s someone I’d like to get to know. I suppose I’ll have the chance now that she’s planning on living in Dublin with Marty.
Before I can think of anything else to say, Carmen stirs. She stretches in that way only babies can, with every part of her body. When she leans sleepily toward my chest, her mouth seeking her dinner, I excuse us to go find her mother.
Jessica is talking with Sophie and Felicity but immediately pulls away when she sees me. Her face breaks out into the most genuine smile when she sees that Carmen is awake. She’s taken to this mother thing pretty well, I have to say. And she’s done it on her own, what with Shay being away on tour.
These thoughts, combined with my enlightening talk with Lainey, set my mind on overdrive and I suddenly know there’s no way I’ll be able to hold back.
“Let me ask you something,” I say as I transfer the baby to Jessica.
“Okay.”
“What made you think having a baby with Shay was a good idea?” I don’t stop to let her answer. I don’t stop to breathe. I have to get this out. “I mean, because you know about our loser parents, right? You know how they fucked us up by not bothering to raise us. Didn’t that scare you? To think maybe Shay would become like that? Or pass that on somehow?”
“Oh wow,” she says with a laugh. “Where is this coming from?”
“Don’t get me wrong. I’m beyond thrilled that you guys had Carmen. Really, I am. And I’ve always known Shay turned out fantastic, all things considered. But, I just can’t help but wonder whether you ever, I don’t know, hesitated to go all in.”
She considers me for a moment before taking a deep breath. “Come inside with me for a minute.”
I follow her along the stone path toward the open glass doors. Roscoe follows just behind me. There’s a green and black-patterned shawl spread across the back of the sofa and she pulls it to her as she takes a seat. In one graceful move, she throws the shawl over her shoulder with Carmen under it and starts nursing her.
I sit with her and wait for her answer, my leg bouncing until Roscoe sits heavily against me. I pet him, and he sighs.
“I guess, the only thing that ever made me hesitate with Shay was all the drama that surrounds him.”
“That must mean me, yeah?” I ask, resigned.
She tilts her head with the hint of an apologetic smile. “Not just you. It was everything about being a part of the Rogue world. It intimidated me, to tell the truth. But once I realized that the alternative was to be without Shay, I knew I could handle anything. It turned out, once I gave it a real chance it wasn’t all that bad. You all,” she says with a sweet smile, “aren’t bad.”
It’s a nice sentiment, but it’s not what I’m after, so I persist. “But, you honestly never worried about Shay being a father?”
“How could I? He’s the man I love. And I love him because I know who he is and what he’s capable of. I know he’d do anything for me and our child.”
That rings true to me. Shay has spent so much of his life taking care of me, saving my arse, and being the reasonable one. Of course, he’d be able to redirect those traits into someone worthier.
Worthy. That word will never sound the same again. Not after Amelia insisted I was worthy of being loved.
Although she said this as she was leaving me, so I might have to qualify just how accurate her assessment is.
“Does that answer your question?” Jessica asks.
“What? Oh, yeah, it does.” I stand, and Roscoe rouses himself. “Thanks for indulging me on that.”
“Can I ask you something?”
I had turned to go and face her again. “Sure.”
“Are you curious about these things because of Amelia?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know, because she’ll be here in a few days for the wedding.”
“Wait. What? She’s coming here?”
Her eyebrows come together in concern. “Shay didn’t mention that we invited her? That she and I have kept in touch? I mean, she’s kept in touch with all of us—Sophie, Felicity, even Lainey.”
I shake my head, too overwhelmed by the idea of seeing her again.
“She RSVP’d for one,” Jessica offers.
This sounds like some sort of code I’m expected to know, but I don’t. So, I ask her what she means.
“She’s coming by herself,” she says gently. “There’s no one else, not since you.”
All I can do is nod before turning and walking back out to the group still lingering at the dinner table. I’m in a daze as I think of what a reunion with Amelia might be like.
48
Danny Boy
* * *
It’s blazing hot, but this hike was my idea, so I shouldn’t complain. Then again, I can’t help but be me.
“Fuck’s sake, I’m gonna melt,” I moan.
Shay glances at me but doesn’t say anything.
We’ve lost sight of Conor and Gavin. They got into some kind of pissing contest and started racing along the trail. Us guys are doing the seven-mile trail in St. Helena’s Moore Creek Park while the women are doing some kind of pre-wedding girly thing at a nail place. I had actually mentioned I wanted to take Roscoe out here, planning to go on my own, but Shay would have none of it. He invited himself along. And then Mr. Perfect and his boyfriend joined in, so here we are, sweating our bollocks off.
Not that it isn’t a lovely place to be. Despite the summer season, it’s bright with green grass in the pasture-like areas and dotted with white, orange, red, and purple wildflowers. We’ve even been by a waterfall and creeks where Roscoe has taken a dip.
As nice as it is, it reminds me of when I took Amelia for a hike through the Wicklow Way. That had been during our sweet spot of happin
ess, just before we ran into Jules and Amelia followed that up by wanting me to get her pregnant. And then everything went sour after that.
“You’re quiet,” Shay tells me.
“Sometimes happens,” I reply. “Enjoy it while you can.”
“Not just now. You’ve been quiet. Withdrawn, these last couple days.”
Now, I glance at him and I see a flicker of worry in his eyes.
“Nah, I’m fine.”
He slows to a stop in a shaded area, and we both turn to look out at the view. The sky is impossibly blue, with only a few brilliant white clouds. There’s a brush-laden valley below us, the mountains on either side bursting with lush green trees. Though the air is warm, it smells fresh and almost sweet.
“Don’t bullshit me right now, Danny Boy,” he says, turning to me. “Are you on the verge of walking away from your sobriety?”
I laugh. “What? Why would you ask that? I’ve been doing so fucking good. With no thanks to you bastards, what with all the booze around all the time.”
“We can change that if—”
“No, I’m just taking the piss. It’s okay for you lot to drink. I can handle it. I’ve been doing pretty fucking good, in fact.”
“You have,” he agrees. “Except for the last couple days. You’ve really retreated into yourself.”
I hadn’t noticed I’d done that. But now that I think about it, I realize that after our first dinner here when I spoke with both Lainey and Jessica about becoming a parent, I’ve been lost in my own head. I have retreated to the sidelines, watching everyone else, and thinking.
“It sure reminds me of how you gear up for trouble,” he says.
“Ah, no, that’s not it. Certainly not as you’re about to get fucking married, Shay. I wouldn’t do that to you.”
He nods slowly at first, and then with resolve.
“So, what is it, then?” he asks.
“I, eh, I guess I’ve just been thinking about all kinds of things. Things like when you were only little and how I felt the weight of the world on me to take care of you.”
Problematic Love (Rogue Series Book 8) Page 25
