“Honey, I get the point. This is a bit much, no?”
“I just want a photo. For my own amusement.”
He grimaced at her, and she knew he was worrying about the impressions others would have if they saw a photo like this. This wasn’t the image he preferred to craft for himself, though one other semi-nude photo had made a sensation the previous year. That was courtesy of his now ex-fiancée, the model Colette Deveraux, who had posted a photo to Instagram. It was of him lying nude on his belly in bed, and it had gone viral.
“For me, love?”
“Don’t let these photos get out,” he said grudgingly.
Felicity bit her lip as she tried to withhold her smile. The image of him sitting up in a bed that had been recently well used, his bare, chiseled chest on display as he casually wrapped his arm around the neck of the guitar was incredibly sexy. His short black hair was a striking contrast to his deep blue eyes, and the stare he leveled at the camera was smoldering, worthy of any top model of the day.
In return, the image of her on his phone was the pose he had coaxed her into. She also sat on the bed, but with her back to him and leaning against the guitar, one hand reaching up and around to hold firmly to the neck of it. Her face and body were tilted slightly his way, giving a glimpse of her profile, including the outline of her breast.
“Is that uncle Conor?” Donal asked and all eyes focused on the phone. “He looks like a rock star!”
The ladies burst out into laughter and the boys joined them, though they didn’t understand why.
“I’m so sorry, but I think I’d better answer,” Felicity said. “He wouldn’t interrupt our lunch if he didn’t need something.”
“Go ahead,” Sophie said.
Felicity stood up and moved toward the front of the restaurant and out the door as she accepted the call.
“You okay to talk?” he asked.
“Yeah, sure. What’s happening?”
“Going to need you and James to put in some time on something. Danny Boy has fucked us.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Gavin hovered near the monitor displaying views from various security cameras on their property, including the entry gate. He tried to busy himself with other things but kept gravitating to watching for any movement, despite the fact that he knew Sophie should be taking her time to enjoy lunch with the ladies.
After Shay left, he’d gone back to his workout. The routine of running sprints on the treadmill and lifting weights had become an addiction. Thankfully, it was the good kind of addiction this time. Exercising helped clear his head, at least temporarily.
Though it hadn’t helped him from worrying about Sophie now, especially since he had showered and had nothing to do but wait for her.. His wife had been a model of strength these last months, even as he knew she was struggling with the pregnancy. She had dismissed his suggestions that she vent to him, insisting that she was going through what most other women in her position did. Still, he was always conscious of wanting her to feel that he was a part of this experience. That hadn’t been the case for her first pregnancy, and he still regretted his actions. He had left her when she needed him, and though he had his reasons, he would never forgive himself for how it had all played out.
There was movement in his peripheral vision and he focused quickly on the monitor. Sure enough, Sophie was pulling the Mercedes through their gates.
Rushing to the front door, he flung it open and went to meet her. Helping her out of the driver’s seat, he relieved her of her purse and bag from the farmers market before pressing a quick kiss to her lips.
“Missed me, huh?” she asked with a wry smile.
“In fact, I did. Though I wasn’t on my own for long.”
“Meaning?”
Gavin took her arm and watched each step she took on the wide-set staircase leading to the house, making sure she didn’t somehow stumble.
“Shay came by.”
“Oh, I’m sorry I missed him. How is he?”
They moved toward the kitchen, Gavin still holding Sophie’s arm.
“He’s, em, troubled.”
Sophie pulled from his grasp and attempted to take her things to put them away but he quickly set her purse on the breakfast nook table and went about unloading the fresh fruit and vegetables she had purchased.
“What happened? Danny Boy?”
Gavin smiled at her. “What else?”
“Has he gone again?”
Danny Boy’s long history as an drug addict had been to disappear with a party crowd to various parts of Europe when he was using. He’d usually reappear when he’d bottomed out and wanted a place to implement his wretched home-detox routine. Gavin had never once been tempted to try heroin after he learned the vile way Danny Boy got himself off the stuff. He would invariably enlist Shay’s help in a process that included lining the floor of an empty room with plastic sheeting and blocking out windows to blacken any daylight. Danny Boy would then strip naked and make his brother swear that he would deliver his home brewed detox medicine—a mix of Gatorade and crushed Ativan—at planned intervals. Otherwise, Danny Boy was to be left on his own to sweat, struggle, and scream as the drug oozed out of every orifice over the course of four to five days. Afterward, Danny Boy would spend hours soaking limply in a bath while Shay cleaned up the debris.
“No, not yet. But that could be coming.” He told her the story of Danny Boy’s ridiculous scheme to sell Conor’s guitar.
“Does Conor know about this?” she asked. She rubbed at her lower back and shifted from one foot to another.
“Let me, darlin’.” Gavin moved behind her and began kneading at the ache in her back. He was glad she didn’t protest and instead took in several deep breaths, letting her head fall forward.
“The sciatica pain has been a lot worse today,” she admitted.
“I got you.” He continued to work at the tense area just above her tailbone.
“So, does Conor know?” She tilted her head from one side to the other to stretch her neck.
“If he doesn’t yet, he will soon enough.”
“Oh! He must know. Felicity got a call from him during our lunch and she ended up rushing to wrap it up so she could go.”
“Makes sense—”
“He must be furious.”
Sophie knew Conor as well as Gavin did. They could both envision how Conor would respond to this, and it wasn’t good.
“I’ll have to call him later, talk him down. It’s not the worst thing to happen to this band.”
“No—”
He instinctively looked at the kitchen sink when he heard a trickling sound. The sink was dry, the faucet still. Almost as quickly, he turned his attention to the floor between Sophie’s legs. She was staring down at a splattering of liquid that was beginning to pool.
“Is that? Really?” Gavin stammered as he came around to face her.
Sophie wrapped a protective arm over her belly. “Oh my god. I think I’ve been in labor and didn’t know it,” she said with an astonished laugh.
He had thought he would feel panic when it was finally time for the baby to come. They’d spent months talking about various scenarios for how it would play out, including the possibility that he’d be out of the country on tour. But now that it was here, he was overcome with decisive calm instead.
“Darlin’,” he said and cupped her face in his hands.
“Yes?” Her eyes were brimming with tears but she was smiling.
He kissed her, then pulled away just enough to put his forehead to hers. “Let’s have a baby,” he whispered.
There was a catch in her laugh as she wrapped her arms around his neck. They had worked hard to get to this kind of happiness, and he could tell she was in sync with him in wanting to stop and cherish this particular moment.
“I love you, sweet girl.” He pressed a kiss to her neck.
“I love you so much, baby.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“I knew it. I knew it was a mista
ke from the start, having Danny Boy on tour with us like that,” Conor said as soon as Felicity got home.
She had found him pacing near the polished concrete kitchen island and waited in vain for a hello kiss from him. He was visibly agitated, his usual cool and controlled manner undone. It was rare for him to have a reaction like this and she wondered what was really behind it.
“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked.
“No reason.” So all he wanted was for her to put on her work hat. She had been the media manager for the band for almost a year, having talked her way into a position that she had to learn quickly. But she’d worked hard, funneling her PR and marketing skills from a previous corporate job into the music world that turned out not to be all that different when it came to the objectives of the organization—generate good press and clean up bad press. It was an exhilarating and rewarding job, and, so far, working closely with her boyfriend hadn’t been an issue. But with him having been away on tour for much of their relationship, they were still new as a couple. There was plenty yet to learn about each other and how they would work as both lovers and employer/employee.
“I told Shay his brother is off the tour. So, put that out for all the crew to know. He’s to return all his credentials.”
“You’re really angry.”
“Of course I am. We don’t need to be associated with this shit. Jesus, we just put all the drama behind us, and now Danny Boy tries to play me for a fool.”
“I don’t think that was his intent.”
“Are you honestly going to defend him?”
“That’s not what I’m doing.”
“Good. Then focus on how to fix this.”
She eyed him for a moment, recognizing that he was spoiling for a fight. But again, she wasn’t sure where it was coming from. Yes, this was a PR problem to be dealt with, but why was he taking it so personally? And why was he now taking it out on her?
“Have you talked to James?” she asked. James Kelly was the band’s long-time manager and someone she worked with closely.
“No. I called you, didn’t I?”
His words and tone suggested he was expecting her to jump at his command, and that didn’t sit well with her, whether he was her boss or not. “Okay, enough of this,” she said.
“What?”
“Really? What?”
He took a deep breath and watched her silently, and Felicity was reminded of how obstinate he could be.
“We are going to have to figure out the right balance for being in a relationship and working together, because this isn’t it.”
“Fuck me,” he muttered and looked away from her. “I just want this NME story to go away. And I want my bleedin’ guitar back.”
“So go get it.”
“What?”
“Go get it from Shay’s. Go and let me figure out the rest.”
He hesitated but she didn’t back down. “I’m away then,” he said.
She nodded and turned from him, reaching into her pocket for her cell phone. Time to get to work. Before she could dial James, she felt Conor wrap his arms around her from behind. He held her body to his, resting his cheek against her temple. She relaxed and wrapped her arms around his. The way he held her always made everything else fall away. In his embrace she felt safe and loved. It was an amazing assurance at this moment, even if it didn’t resolve anything.
“Thanks, Fee,” he said softly.
“Yeah, sure.”
Releasing his embrace, he turned her to face him. She thought he was going to say something but instead, he drew his fingertips to her chin and tilted her face up so he could kiss her. His mouth was tender and insistent against hers, and as usual, she found herself inching up on her toes as she got lost in the kiss.
It was no exaggeration to say that he was the best kisser she had ever known. There was something about the way his lips took hers, the confident way he held her while doing so. She could only describe it as sensual because even simple kisses could arouse her to feverishness. He was making this physical connection in lieu of apologizing for the way he had spoken to her. It felt like his old game-playing ways. Which was why she put a hand on his chest and pulled away.
“You’ll want to be going so I can sort this mess,” she told him, almost breathless.
The small smile he gave her meant he understood the effect he had on her. There was a time when she hated to give him that kind of satisfaction, but not now. There was no reason to hold back anymore.
He took her hand and pulled it to his crotch so she could feel him hard and straining against his jeans. “You wouldn’t leave me like this, would you, honey?”
The longing in his blue eyes, along with the feel of him in her hand, stirred her own desire. They had had sex almost non-stop since he’d returned from tour. It was making up for lost time, but also meant they were once more ignoring the disconnect in the rest of their relationship.
Pulling her hand away, she saw surprise in his face. He wasn’t a man accustomed to being turned away.
“Let’s take care of one thing at a time, shall we?” she said lightly.
He adjusted himself and looked away. “Yeah, sure. I’ll leave you to it.”
She watched him hesitate and knew he was hoping she’d pull him back and make it all better with a quickie. The thing he hadn’t learned in all these years of having been so willfully inexperienced with real relationships, was that an argument didn’t mean the end of the world. They would survive this. She just hoped they would find the rhythm they had enjoyed in the six weeks they had been together before he left for the tour. That had been their easy, honeymoon phase. And it had gone by too quickly.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The look on Danny Boy’s face when he saw it was Conor at the door went so rapidly from surprise, to fear, to a mask of feigned nonchalance that it was almost imperceptible. Danny Boy had a lifetime’s worth of experience in covering for his mistakes. Conor had never disliked Danny Boy, he had just never enjoyed him the way most did. His recklessness was at odds with Conor’s desire for control.
“I need two things: my guitar and the bullshit paperwork you forged,” Conor told him. No use in sugar coating it.
“Come in, Con,” Shay said with resignation.
Conor stepped into the house and waited.
“Good you’re here,” Danny Boy said with a grin. “I was about to go to you, but look how easy this is all going to be now.”
Conor ignored him and looked at Shay. “Where’s the Tele?”
“Just here,” Shay said and led them to the living room.
Spotting the guitar case for his Telecaster in the corner, Conor went to it and picked it up in one swift motion. He set it on the coffee table and knelt before it, snapping open the case clasps.
“Oh, come on. You don’t have to check. It’s in there all right,” Danny Boy said.
“It better fucking be in one piece,” Conor muttered.
“I wasn’t after harming it,” Danny Boy replied.
Conor ran his hand over the neck of the guitar and along the body before picking it up and examining it, front and back. The maple fingerboard and sunburst body had the same nicks and scrapes it had had when Conor’s father found it in the back of a rundown music shop while in London at a work conference. Conor knew every imperfection on that guitar. It was the instrument he learned to play on as a teenager, the one he spent every spare moment toying with, the one he fell asleep with because he couldn’t bear to put it down. There didn’t seem to be any new damage, but he wouldn’t feel better about its return until he was able to play it. He’d take it straight home and go to the unattached studio in his back garden so he could put it through the paces.
“Look at him, Shay, touching it like it’s a woman,” Danny Boy said with a laugh.
“Shut your fucking gob and apologize all ready,” Shay told his brother.
Conor raised his eyebrows at that, though he kept his focus on the guitar. It wasn’t like
Shay to be confrontational. When he wasn’t creating a beautiful racket with his drums, Shay was a naturally quiet person. He was usually content to sit on the sidelines, making wry observations to Martin, the band’s bassist. And when there was conflict within the band, Shay was the first person to try to make peace amongst them.
“It was all only a joke,” Danny Boy said. He picked at a scab on his elbow. “I just wanted to see how far I could take it.”
“Your life’s motto, yeah?” Conor asked as he stood up and faced him.
“Yeah, as a matter of fact. You should try it and have some fun once in a while.”
“Just give me the paperwork.”
The scab gave way and Danny Boy rubbed at the fresh blood it released. “I, em, I want to ask you first about me staying on tour.”
“Are you fucking using again? ‘Cause there’s no other reason I can think for you to suggest I’d ever trust you back on tour.”
“I’m not using. The tour has literally kept me from my bad ways—before you laugh,” he said quickly, “believe me. It’s true. It’s been good for me to have this focus.”
“Not good enough to keep you from stealing my shit, though.”
“Ah, fuck, Conor. It’s not that big a deal. We have a meet with the NME fella later today and we’ll get it all sorted.”
“Hold on. What did you say?” Conor looked at Shay. “Is he serious with this?”
Shay’s affirmation was part nod, part grimace.
“You are not meeting with anyone, you hear me? You leave that to James and Felicity.”
“Let me try to clean up my mess, okay? Let me redeem myself.”
Now Conor laughed. Not out of humor but out of frustration. The whole thing was ridiculous. He had his guitar back and should feel better. Though the looming NME article should have just been an irritant, it felt like something more dire. Conor recognized that his reaction to all of this was amplified by not just Danny Boy’s betrayal, but by what it stirred up from the days when Gavin was using. During those months, Conor didn’t just fear for his friend’s well being, he found himself mourning him. There was a loss of friendship at that time that Conor understood only in retrospect had contributed to him making a decision he never should have. That act had almost cost him the greatest friendship he had ever known. It had almost ended the band. Those anxiety-inducing memories combined with his return home from tour to an oddly distant Felicity, had escalated this thing beyond the proper proportions.
Hitting That Sweet Spot Page 6
