And fuck, I hadn’t seen her in over a year, but somehow she’d become even more stunning. The girl I knew was still there, but she’d grown into a graceful, strong yet delicate woman, and I had a difficult time keeping my eyes to myself.
It was extra difficult when she approached her seat in the concert hall next to my parents and removed her light brown coat. Fucking hell. The plain black shift dress that was form fitting and pristinely clean, borderline conservative, had me thinking of all the ways I could dirty it up.
The irony about my life was that I was the lead singer in a rock band with millions of fans across the globe. I could have a different woman in my bed every night, but I’d always been a one-woman man. Shannon had come into my life when we were only kids. We’d been best friends, and as the years wore on, I started to fall for her in a desperate, obsessive sort of way. It was a miracle we didn’t have more than one kid because when we were together, I found it impossible to keep my hands off her and vice versa. I loved how buttoned up she always was, and how much I enjoyed undoing all those metaphorical (and sometimes actual) buttons.
Shannon was the most put together person, but when she was alone with me, she was wild and passionate and free, a complete contrast to the reserved woman most people knew. It had made me feel special, that I was the one she’d shed her layers for. The wall she’d erected since the divorce was all the more painful, remembering how we used to be together.
I took the last remaining seat, the one right next to her, and noticed her shoulders stiffen. I couldn’t blame her for being tense. She hadn’t been expecting me to be here tonight. And her more recent memories of me weren’t so favourable. Those memories were of me messed up on drugs. I’d lost control, allowed the demons Shannon had quieted to take over, and lost myself in opiates. But that wasn’t me anymore. I’d been in recovery for over two years. I went to meetings. Saw a therapist once a month. Had regular meet ups with my sponsor, Bren. I was on a much better path in life and had no intention of ever going back to those dark times. The only thing missing was my woman, the love of my life. I’d lost her in the carnage of my addiction, and the selfish bastard in me wanted her back.
I knew the likelihood of that happening was very, very slim, but it wasn’t zero. Not if the look in her eyes back at my parents’ house was anything to go by. It was the look she got when she was thinking about how attractive she found me. I held onto the hope that look created because letting it go wasn’t an option.
“I only asked about the dating thing because I think I should know who’s spending time around my daughter,” I said, leaning closer and speaking quietly. The concert hadn’t started yet, but I was excited to see Zara’s choir perform. My little girl was just like me in a lot of ways, and she loved to sing.
My eyes were glued to Shannon’s profile as she inhaled a small breath then let it out. “If it came to that, of course I’d let you know. I wouldn’t bring anyone around Zara until I knew it was serious, and I hope you’d do the same.”
“I’m not seeing anyone, so it won’t be a problem for me,” I replied, whispering now because the house lights had dimmed, and a hush fell over the assembly. A short pause elapsed before I prodded, “So, who’s the guy?” Reflexively, I clenched my hand. Just asking the question made me want to lay waste to an entire smash room.
Shannon folded her hands in her lap, glancing down before levelling her attention on the stage. “I never said there was a guy.”
“You didn’t say there wasn’t one,” I countered. Yes, the idea of anyone getting to be with my ex-wife had jealousy curdling my insides. Even though we’d divorced, I still saw her as mine. It was fucked up, but I couldn’t help it. Shannon had been my girl since as far back as I could remember.
She didn’t respond, and I couldn’t push for more because the concert started, a middle-aged woman with short brown hair appearing to introduce Zara’s choir. At that moment, I forgot my jealousy because my little girl walked out on stage, and she was all I could focus on. I’d never been prouder. They sang “True Colours” followed by “Sitting on the Dock of the Bay,” with Zara singing a small solo midway through. Mam filmed the whole thing, and I noticed Shannon snap a few pictures at the beginning. Nobody complained about the flash because most of the other parents were doing the same thing.
My dad looked just as proud as I felt, and I knew it meant a lot to him to see his granddaughter living a good life. His childhood had been messed up, so it was important to him that Zara was happy and cared for. He’d wanted the same for me, too. It wasn’t his fault that I’d turned out fucked up anyway.
“You’ve done such a great job with her,” I said to Shannon when the concert ended.
“I didn’t do it alone,” she replied, and her words unleashed something in me. I had so much guilt over my tour schedule andhow it took me away from Zara. I tried my best to make sure we saw each other at least once a month, but it was difficult. Taking this time off, I was looking forward to being there for her a lot more often. Hell, I wanted to see her every day, but I also didn’t want to put pressure on Shannon. If I pushed her too hard, I knew she’d only push back.
She had a definite stubborn side. It was just one of the things I’d always loved about her, even if I found myself on the receiving end of her stubbornness at times.
When we went to find Zara, she came running out, full of energy and smiles. It was so good to see her happy. Normally, our time together was spent in some random hotel room in a strange city where the band was playing, with her jetlagged and me trying my hardest to make things as normal as possible. I felt like I was constantly failing in that regard, but being there for her tonight, at the school she went to every day, was so effortlessly normal. I didn’t have to force anything, and it was like a weight had been lifted.
“Dad! Did you hear me sing? Did you like it?” she asked, launching herself into my arms.
“You sang like an angel, and I adored it,” I told her, hugging her tight. My eyes found Shannon’s, and her lovely gaze was soft as she watched us. She might’ve gone out of her way to avoid me since the divorce, but I knew it meant a lot to her that I maintained a close relationship with our kid.
My parents appeared then, distracting me from Shannon’s careful gaze. I could sense a tension in her. It was going to take time for her to be comfortable around me. Time for her to trust.
“Shall we head for the restaurant, then?” Mam asked. “Francesca is meeting us there.”
“Oh, I didn’t realise she was home from college,” Shannon commented.
Fran was my kid sister. She was studying psychology at UCC, the intellectual of the family. I’d been lucky to scrape a pass in my exams at the end of secondary school. College hadn’t been on the cards, but then only a year later, my band got signed to a record label, and life took off like a rocket. I’d been so eager for it at the time and had no idea that what was to follow would almost destroy me.
“She’s home for a weekend visit,” Mam replied, her attention going to Zara as she ran a hand over her hair. “Your aunt really wanted to see you sing, too, but she couldn’t make the earlier train.”
“Let’s get out of here,” Dad put in. “Geoff Thompson looks like he wants to bend my ear about an investment opportunity, and I’d rather—” he paused, realising Zara was listening before he finished, “not.”
I took it Geoff Thompson was the grey-haired bloke in the navy blazer who kept shooting eager glances at my dad.
“That’s Sammy Thompson’s granddad,” Zara said before giggling, “His moustache reminds me of an old goat.”
I chuckled and threw my arm around her small shoulders, bending down to murmur, “Don’t let him hear you say that.”
Zara giggled some more while Mam began nudging everyone in the direction of the exit. A few minutes later, we were packed into the car once again. A hint of Shannon’s perfume lingered as she sat on the opposite side by the window, Zara between us. Fuck, I’d really missed that perfume. I was half tempted to buy a bottle, spritz some on my pillow, and pretend she still slept next to me at night. But no, that would be far too obsessive, even for me.
At the restaurant, we were seated at a booth. Zara wanted to sit next to my dad so that he could teach her some card tricks. She slotted herself in between my parents, so it was just Shannon and me on the other side. I made sure to give her space.When we were still married, I might’ve slid in close, our sides pressed together, the warmth of her body a promise of what would happen later when we got home. I wished to go back in time, back to that place where she looked at me with pure love and affection instead of the careful wariness that painted her features now. It gutted me to be honest, but it was worse because it was my own selfish actions that put the wariness there in the first place.
