Chapter 79
79
GAVIN
B ack in Dublin, Gavin tried to live up to his promise to Sophie to make things better. But it was all in vain. He was far too dependent on the escape cocaine gave him to pull back.
So, when things actually escalated for the worse and he spent two days away from home without explanation, he knew he’d face her anger. But when she glanced up at him through red-rimmed eyes, she was speechless.
It took him a moment, but then he registered what it was. She was too thrown by his changed appearance to fight with him.
His drug buddies, thinking it would be a hilarious prank, had sloppily shaved his head when he had passed out with the help of Ambien.
“How could they?” she whispered as she reached out to touch his buzzed hair.
He took her hand and kissed it. “Don’t worry about that. It’s not a big deal.”
“It is a big deal. It means you’ve lost all control over this. You’ve?—”
“I haven’t lost control, darlin’. Truly. Because this is partly why I was gone so long. I had to do this. I had to. To show you that you’re all I think about. Even when I fuck up.”
Yanking up his shirt, he peeled away the clear bandage that was on his chest. He proudly showed her the newly tattooed gold ‘S’ over his heart.
She took in the tattoo wordlessly. Her lack of enthusiasm was disappointing, but at least she wasn’t angry with him. In fact, she seemed more interested in telling him about a house than swooning over his permanent body-art gesture.
She told him she had stumbled upon her dream house while out driving aimlessly to pass the time when he didn’t come home. It was in the posh neighborhood of Dalkey, known as the Irish “Bay of Naples” for its sea views and cliffside villas. She had fallen in love with it for its location and promise of privacy with a gated driveway.
“Sounds fantastic,” Gavin said. “Take me to see it.”
“It’s not for sale.”
The disappointment on her face over this fact was more than he could bear. He was well aware of how badly he had been treating her, how fruitlessly she had been working to keep him together. He owed her so much. He should have promised to stop the coke, to fix things.
But he couldn’t bring himself to do that. Instead, he latched onto the idea that if he could somehow purchase this dream home of Sophie’s, all would right itself.
After Sophie did her best to even out his haircut, Gavin showered and dressed in clean jeans and an Aran wool sweater. The improved outer appearance, along with his self-imposed mission, gave him the confidence to charm the owner of Sophie’s dream home when they dropped in on her later that afternoon. He deftly explained to Mrs. Smythe that Sophie had happened upon the area and instantly fallen in love with her home.
She believed his initial claim that they hoped to build their own home modeled after hers, and proudly gave them a tour, telling them in detail about the remodeling she had overseen. Despite its large size, the five-bedroom, six-bathroom, one-story house had a warm, inviting feel to it. The wall of south-facing windows along the living and dining areas flooded the space with natural light. The high ceilings with hand-carved beams that matched the dark walnut plank flooring made for an elegant great room. A two-sided gas fireplace was the only thing to break up the otherwise open floor plan.
It wasn’t until the homeowner was showing them her daughter’s room and was faced with poster-sized images of Gavin on the walls that she realized who he was. She giggled like a schoolgirl, covering her mouth with her hand.
“It’s the haircut, I bet,” he said as he admitted who he was.
“Yes, that’s what’s different,” she replied, but eyed him as if trying to sort something more out.
He imagined that vague tabloid stories of his mother’s abandonment, a bloody fight with his brother, and drug use played through her mind’s eye as she finally recognized him. Above all, she seemed to understand they were there for more than a tour.
“It’s a bit of a surprise, I know,” Gavin said, his voice soothing, seductive even. They sat at the informal kitchen breakfast nook while Sophie stood on the deck, staring out at the panoramic sea view. “All I’m after is trying to make my wife happy. She has fallen madly in love with this house.” He paused as he tried to understand the reasons himself. “She spent a lot of time on the beach as a girl, so maybe this place satisfies those cravings for childhood comforts we’re never really able to re-create when we grow up,” he said. “Or maybe it’s the way the sea seems to promise a kind of renewal, a new start. I do know that the only real thing I’m capable of giving her is the hope something different brings. The thing is, I’d buy her a thousand houses if it meant she’d be happy again. Honest to God, she’s an angel, but by being with me she has settled for less than she deserves. I can’t bear to disappoint her, not again.”
“I see,” Mrs. Smythe said. “That’s sweet, but?—”
“It’s a tremendous thing to ask of you and your family,” Gavin continued. “But I’ll do anything I can to make it as convenient as possible for you. And I will pay whatever price you ask. Whatever.”
He wasn’t being dramatic. The cost really didn’t matter. He had chosen long ago not to rely on money and material things. He didn’t care what car he had or where he lived, because he never wanted to feel beholden to a means of securing these things. It was a way of defending against—at least in his mind—becoming one of “them.” If he didn’t place any importance on his wealth, he would never operate out of fear of losing it. The idea was that he would be free to make artistic choices based on inspiration rather than economic need. That his career had been so successful as to never need to challenge this model wasn’t something he gave much thought.
Tears flooded Mrs. Smythe’s eyes, and Gavin sighed with relief. The sheer romance of what he was willing to do for his wife obviously resonated deeply with her.
“I can’t promise anything, but I’ll talk to my husband,” she said, taking his hand in both of hers and giving it a squeeze.
And Gavin smiled because he knew he had just bought a new house.