Rhian sighed in relief. “So you think I’ve done the right thing.”
“No,” I replied honestly. “I think you’re scared shitless. But from one scared shitless person to another, I know no one’s going to change your mind.”
We were silent, just breathing down the phone to one another, feeling that connection between us, that relief that there was someone else out there just as messed up.
“Have you thought about the reality of this, Rhian?” I finally whispered. “James with someone else I mean?”
A choked noise crackled down the phone.
My heart broke for her. “Rhian?”
“I’ve got to go.” She hung up. And somehow I knew she was hanging up to cry. We never cried.
Feeling a deep melancholy settle over me, I texted her to advise her to really think about things before she did anything she’d regret. For once, I wished I wasn’t so broken, so Rhian had a best friend who was strong and not afraid to love, to hold up as an example of what was possible. Instead, I was her excuse that she wasn’t being irrational. I was her enabler.
“Joss?”
I glanced up over at Craig. “Yeah?”
“A little help, please.”
“Oh sure.”
“You fancy a quick shag after work?”
“No, Craig.” I shook my head, following him out, too depressed to even banter with him.
* * *
Sunday rolled around before I knew it, and I was so preoccupied with my book and with Rhian, who kept avoiding my calls, and too afraid to talk to James in case he put another crack in my heart with his heartache, that I didn’t have a prayer’s chance in hell of coming up with an excuse to get out of dinner with Ellie’s family.
Instead I was bundled into a cab with Ellie, dressed in celebration of the hot day in my Topshop shorts and a pretty olive-green silk camisole. We took off for Stockbridge and stopped literally five minutes later outside an apartment that looked a lot like ours.
Inside, I was unsurprised to find the Nichols’ home very much like ours too. Huge rooms, high ceilings, and a cozy collection of clutter that reminded me a lot of Ellie. Now I knew where she got it from.
Elodie Nichols greeted me with a very French kiss on either cheek. Like Ellie, she was tall and beautiful in a delicate way. For some reason I’d been expecting a French accent, even though Ellie had told me her mom had moved to Scotland when she was four.
“Ellie’s told me so much about you. She said the two of you have become fast friends. I’m so glad. I was a little worried about her when she said she was taking on a flatmate, but it’s all worked out nicely.”
I felt like I was fifteen again. Elodie just had that mothering way of talking down to you. “Yeah, it has,” I answered congenially. “Ellie is great.”
Elodie beamed, looking twenty years younger and very much like her eldest daughter.
Next, I was introduced to Clark, a kind of non-descript, dark-haired guy with glasses and a sweet smile. “Ellie says you’re a writer.”
I threw Ellie a wry smile. She told everyone I was a writer. “Trying to be.”
“What do you write?” Clark asked, handing me a glass of wine.
We had congregated in the sitting room while Elodie checked on something in the kitchen. “Fantasy. I’m working on a fantasy series.”
Clark’s eyes widened fractionally behind his glasses. “I love fantasy novels. You know, I’d be happy to read it before you send it off for queries.”
“You mean, beta-read it?”
“Yes. If you’d like?”
Remembering that Clark was a college professor and was used to grading papers, I was secretly really pleased by his offer. I gave him a small smile of gratitude. “That would be great. I’d really appreciate it. Of course, I’m nowhere near finished yet.”
“Well, when you are, just give me a shout.”
I grinned. “I will, thanks.”
I was just beginning to think I’d make it through this particular family dinner when I heard kids’ laughter.
“Dad!” a young boy’s voice carried down the hall towards us, and then its owner appeared in the doorway. Running toward Clark, the small boy’s face was lit up with excitement. I guessed this was Declan, Ellie’s ten year old half-brother. “Dad, look what Braden got me.” He thrust a Nintendo DS and two games in Clark’s face.
Clark looked at them, smiling. “Is that the one you wanted?”
“Yeah, it’s the latest version.”
Looking up at the doorway, Clark clucked his tongue in mock disapproval. “It’s not his birthday until next week. You spoil him rotten.”
I jerked around, my palms instantly sweating at the sight of Braden standing in the doorway with his hand on the shoulder of a miniature version of Ellie. The teenager was huddled close to him, her thick bangs and short haircut exceptionally stylish for such a little thing. My eyes didn’t linger long on the mini-Ellie, who I deduced was Hannah. No, they slid up over Braden, drinking him in before I could stop them.
Attraction burned through my blood.
Braden was wearing black jeans and a grey t-shirt. It was the first time I’d seen him in something casual, the first time my eyes had access to his strong biceps and broad shoulders.
I felt a throb between my legs and looked quickly away, hating that he did this to my body.
“I know,” Braden answered. “But I didn’t want to have to spend another Sunday afternoon listening to Dec chew my ear off about the damn console.”
Declan just giggled, his triumphant gaze dropping to his game as he flopped down at his father’s feet and started loading in a Super Mario Bros game.
“Look what I got?” Hannah smiled shyly, holding up something that looked like a credit card. God, I hoped it wasn’t.
Clark squinted at it. “What is it?”
Hannah’s eyes brightened. “A really big gift card for the bookstore.”
“Nice.” Ellie grinned back at her, holding out her arm to her. “What are you going to get?”
Her little sister rushed towards her, snuggling into her side as she dropped onto the couch. She flicked me a shy smile before looking up at Ellie. “There’s a new vampire series I want.”
“Hannah’s a bookworm,” his gravelly voice explained right above my head.
I turned to look up at Braden standing beside the couch, looking down at me with nothing but a friendly smile. Although a little disconcerted by his changed attitude, I found myself smiling back at him. “I see.” A swarm of butterflies awoke in my stomach and I flinched inwardly, looking away from him. It never occurred to me Braden would be attending dinner, although it should have, considering Ellie had made it clear he was a big part of her family.
“Did you thank Braden?” Clark suddenly asked his kids, drawing my attention to them and away from the sex on legs beside me.
A couple of mumbled ‘yes” answered the question.
“Hannah, Dec, this is my flatmate, Joss,” Ellie introduced me.
I smiled at them both.
“Hi.” Hannah gave me a shy wave. I felt my chest squeeze at how adorable she was.
“Hey.” I waved back.
“Do you like Nintendo?” Declan asked, waiting for my answer with an assessing gaze. I could tell my answer would either make us or break us.
“Oh yeah. Mario and I go way back.”
He gave me a cheeky grin. “You have a cool accent.”
“So do you.”
That seemed to please him and he quickly returned to his game. I think I passed.
Clark patted Declan’s head. “Son, put it on silent, please.”
Almost immediately the familiar sounds of Mario quieted and I decided I liked these kids. Reading between the lines, I guessed Braden spoile
d them, and looking around the home it didn’t seem as if they lacked for anything, but they had great manners, just like Ellie.
“Braden!” Elodie came shuffling into the room, a huge loving smile on her face. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
Braden grinned down at her and enveloped her in a tight hug.
“Did Clark get you a drink?”
“No, but I’ll get myself something.”
“Oh, no, let me.” Clark stood up. “Lager?”
“Yeah, thanks, sounds good.”
“Have a seat.” Elodie shuffled Braden down into the armchair on my right as Clark left the room. She settled onto the arm of it and brushed Braden’s unkempt hair off his forehead. “How have you been? I heard you and Holly broke up.”
Braden hadn’t really crossed me as the type who liked to be ‘mothered’ but he just sat there, seeming to enjoying Elodie’s attention. He took her hand and kissed her knuckles affectionately. “I’m fine, Elle. It was just time, that’s all.”
“Hmm,” she answered with a frown. And then, as if remembering I was there, she turned to me. “You’ve met Joss, haven’t you?”
Braden nodded, a soft, almost secret smile, curving the corners of his lips. Still, it was friendly, not sexual, and I didn’t know whether to be happy or disappointed by that. Stupid hormones. “Yeah, Jocelyn and I have met.”
I felt my brows pull together. Why did he insist on calling me Jocelyn?
The frown soon disappeared as Clark returned and conversation gained momentum. I did my best, answering their questions and reciprocating, however I was never so grateful for Ellie. She came to my rescue when her mom started asking questions about my parents, deflecting the questions easily from me to Elodie, and I sighed with relief at having escaped having to be outright rude. I thought I was doing okay. I even managed to exchange friendly, non-sexual banter with Braden.
Then we moved to the dining room for dinner.
There was just something about the laughter, all the talk and noise, as we settled around it, helping ourselves to potatoes, veg and gravy to eat with the generous servings of roast chicken Elodie had put on our plates. As I poured gravy over my dinner, their chatter, their affection, the warm normality triggered the memories . . .
“I invited Mitch and Arlene for dinner,” My mom said, putting out extra place settings. Dru was over for dinner since we were working on a school project together, and my dad was settling baby Beth into her high chair.
Dad sighed. “I’m glad I made plenty of chili—as it is, Mitch will probably eat it all.”
“Be nice,” Mom admonished with a small smile on her lips. “They’ll be here any minute.”
“Just saying. Guy can eat.”
Dru giggled beside me, shooting my dad an adoring look. Dru’s dad was never around so my dad was like Superman to her.
“So how’s the project coming along?” Mom asked, pouring us out orange juice.
I shot Dru a secretive smile. It wasn’t coming along at all. We’d spent the last hour gossiping about Kyle Ramsey and Jude Jeffrey. Mostly we just kept saying the word ‘Jude’ like ‘Juuude’ and giggling like idiots.
My mom snorted, catching the look. “I see.”
“Hey neighbors!” a big bellyful of joy called out as Mitch and Arlene opened the French doors, stepping inside without knocking. It was okay. We were used to their overfamiliarity since they were our only neighbors in spitting distance of the house. My mom loved their overfamiliarity. My dad? Not so much.
After a lot of greetings—Mitch and Arlene were incapable of saying ‘hello’ just once—we all finally settled around the kitchen table with my dad’s famous chili.
“Why do you never cook for me?” Arlene complained to Mitch after moaning a little inappropriately at her first taste of dad’s chili.
“You never asked.”
“I bet Sarah never has to ask Luke to cook, do you Sarah?”
My mom threw dad a wide-eyed plea for help. “Um . . .”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
“Dad, Beth’s dropped her juice.” I nodded at the floor.
Since he was closest, he reached down to pick it up.
“My dad never cooks,” Dru put in, trying to make Arlene feel better.
“See,” Mitch mumbled around his chlli. “Not just me.”
Arlene scowled. “What do you mean, ‘see’? As if another man not cooking for his wife somehow makes it okay for you to not cook for your wife?”
Mitch swallowed. “Fine. I’ll cook.”
“Can you cook?” Mom asked softly and I heard my dad choke on a piece of chili.
I hid my giggle in a swallow of orange juice.
“No.”
Silence descended around the table as we all looked at each other and then burst out laughing. Beth squealed at the noise, her tiny hand hitting her juice and sending it flying again, which made us laugh harder . . .
That memory was followed by another memory of a Christmas dinner. Thanksgiving. My thirteenth birthday . . .
The memories triggered a panic attack.
First my head grew fuzzy and I quickly lowered the gravy boat from my now trembling hand. The skin on my face tingled and cold sweat seeped from my pores. My heart was speeding so hard behind my ribcage I thought it might explode. My chest tightened and I struggled to breathe.
“Jocelyn?”
My chest rose and fell rapidly in shallow breaths, my frightened eyes searching for the voice.
Braden.
He dropped his fork, leaning across the table toward me, a frown of concern between his brows. “Jocelyn?”
I needed to get out of there.
I needed air.
“Jocelyn . . . Christ,” Braden muttered, shoving back from the table, intent on coming around the table to help me.
Instead, I shot out of my seat, holding my hands out to stop him. Without a word, I turned and raced from the room, running down the hall to the bathroom where I slammed inside.
Shaking hands pushed up the window, and they and the rest of me were grateful for the rush of air that blasted over my face, even if it was warm air. Knowing I needed to calm down, I concentrated on slowing my breathing.
A few minutes later my body and mind came back to itself and I slumped onto the toilet seat, my limbs all jellified. I felt exhausted again. My second panic attack.
Great.
“Jocelyn?” his voice rumbled through the door.
I closed my eyes against it, wondering how the hell I was going to explain myself. Embarrassment warmed the blood in my cheeks.
I thought I was over this. It had been eight years. I should be over it by now.
At the sound of the door opening, my eyes cracked open too, and I watched as a concerned Braden stepped inside and closed the door. Briefly I wondered why he had followed me and Ellie hadn’t. When I didn’t say anything he came closer, dropping slowly to his haunches so we were at eye level. My eyes searched his gorgeous face and for once, I wished I could break my own damn rules. I had a feeling Braden would be able to make me forget everything for a while.
We gazed at one another for what seemed like forever, not saying a word. I was expecting a lot of questions since it must have been clear to everyone, or at least the adults at the table, that I had had a panic attack. Surely, they were all wondering why, and I really didn’t want to go back out there.
“Better?” Braden finally asked softly.
Wait. Was that it? No probing questions?
“Yeah.” No, not really.
He must have read my reaction to his question in my face because he cocked his head to the side, his gaze thoughtful. “You don’t need to tell me.”
I cracked a humorless smile. “I’ll just let you think I’m bat-shit
crazy.”
Braden smiled back at me. “I already knew that.” He got up, holding a hand out to me. “Come on.”
I looked at his proffered hand warily. “I think maybe I should just go.”
“And I think you should have some good food with some good friends.”
I thought of Ellie and how warm and welcoming she’d been to me. It would be an insult to walk out of her mother’s dinner and I found myself not wanting to do anything that would alienate Ellie.
Taking Braden’s hand tentatively, I let him pull me to my feet. “What will I say?” No use pretending to be cool and collected with him now. He’d already seen me at my most vulnerable. Twice.
“Nothing,” he assured me. “You don’t need to explain yourself to anyone.” His smile was kind. I couldn’t decide what smile I liked more. This one, or the wicked one from before.
“Okay.” I took a deep breath and followed him out. He didn’t let go of my hand until we reached the dining room, and I refused to acknowledge the bereft feeling in my chest as his touch fell away from mine.
“Are you alright, honey?” Elodie asked as soon as we walked into the room.
“A little bit of sun stroke.” Braden waved Ellie’s mom off with reassurance. “She was out in the sun too long this morning.”
“Oh.” She turned her motherly concern on me. “I hope you at least wore sun screen.”
I nodded, sliding into my seat. “Just forgot to wear a hat.”
As their conversation picked up and the tension drained from the table, I ignored Ellie’s suspicious glances and shot Braden a grateful smile.
Chapter 6
By the end of the dinner I was a little more relaxed, although looking forward to getting home and being alone for a while. Determined not to be taken unaware again, I put back up that wall between me and my memories and tried to enjoy the Nichols’ company. It wasn’t hard. They were an easy group to like.
My plans for being alone were foiled by Braden and Ellie who were meeting up with Adam for drinks. I tried to get out of going with them but Ellie wasn’t having it. It was like she sensed I was going home to brood or something.
After bidding the Nichols a goodbye and promising Elodie I’d be back, we headed out to grab a cab to take us back to the apartment so I could pick up my purse. I only had my cell on me and was determined nobody—as in Braden—was buying me drinks tonight, but me. The less I was in this guy’s debt the better.
On Dublin Street (9781101623497) Page 7
