On Dublin Street (On Dublin Street 1)

“Oh.” She waved the question off with a grimace. “We’re separated. I’m here with a very charming date.”

Well, go back to him, lady, so we can get on with our date.

Shit! Not a date! Not a date!

Braden smiled and turned around to nod at me. “Aileen, this is Jocelyn.”

“Hi.” I smiled politely, not really sure how to converse with an obvious ex. As I looked over the tall, blonde glamazon, I was convinced more than ever that I was the opposite of Braden’s usual type.

Her eyes were assessing as they washed over me. After a second her smile widened as she looked back at Braden. “Finally, a girl who doesn’t look like Analise.” She touched his shoulder affectionately again. “I’m glad for you.”

“Aileen...” Braden pulled back, his jaw clenching.

Analise? My eyebrows were raised in question. Who was Analise?

“Still sore I see,” Aileen tutted and took a step back. “I guess we all are about spouses. Takes time.” She waited for someone to say something and then, as if suddenly realizing she was intruding on our dinner, she laughed a little embarrassed. “Anyway, I better get back to Roberto. Take care, Braden. It was good to see you. And nice to meet you, Jocelyn.”

“You too,” I murmured, trying to hide the fact that it felt as though someone had rammed the table into my gut. Spouses? I sucked in a breath, a shot of adrenaline kicking my heart into a riot as Aileen sashayed away, having no idea she’d caused tension between me and Braden.

My lips felt numb. “Wife?”

“Ex-wife.”

Why did I feel betrayed? That was stupid. Or was it? He’d said we were friends. And Ellie… Ellie was my friend, and she hadn’t told me Braden had an ex-wife. Did it matter?

You haven’t told him anything, Joss.

No, I hadn’t. But I also hadn’t been married.

“Jocelyn…” Braden sighed, and I lifted my eyes to see his expression was like granite. “I would have told you about Analise eventually.”

I waved him off. “It’s none of my business.”

“If that’s the case, why do you look shell-shocked?”

“Because I’m surprised. I got into this with you because you were a serial dater. Not a one-woman kind of guy.” I touched a hand to my chest. What the hell was that pain in there?

He ran a hand through his hair and then sighed heavily again. The next thing I knew, he had hooked a leg around my chair leg and was pulling me toward him, until our shoulders were almost brushing.

I stared up at him questioningly, lost for a moment in his beautiful eyes.

“I got married when I was twenty-two,” he began softly, quietly, his eyes studying me as he explained. “Her name was Analise. She was an Australian post-grad student. We’d only been together a year before I proposed, and we were only married for two. The first nine months were great. The next three months rocky. The last year hell. We fought a lot. Mostly about my inability to let her in,” he whirled his wine glass, dropping his gaze now, “And when I think about it, that was true. Thank f**k.” His eyes came back to me. “The thought of handing her – someone as vindictive as her – all my personal crap…”

“Like ammunition in her hands,” I murmured, understanding completely.

“Exactly. I believe you work hard to make a marriage work. I didn’t want to give up. But one day, not too long before my father passed away, he called me and asked me to check a property we were trying to sell on Dublin Street. Not Ellie and yours,” he added quickly. “He told me there had been a complaint about dripping water in the downstairs flat, so I went along to check.” His jaw clenched. “I didn’t find a leak, but I found Analise in bed with a close friend of mine from school. My dad had known. They’d been going behind my back for six months.”

I closed my eyes, feeling pain for him echo in my chest. How could anyone do that to him? To him? When I opened them, his gaze was soft on me and I reached for his arm, squeezing it consolingly. To my surprise his mouth quirked up into a smile. “It doesn’t hurt anymore, Jocelyn. Years of retrospect took away that. What I had with Analise was superficial. A young man’s dick leading him astray.”

“You really believe that?”

“I know that.”

I frowned, shaking my head. “Why would you buy a property on Dublin Street again?”

He shrugged. “Analise may have f**ked off back to Australia once I divorced her and made sure she left with nothing, but she’d still tainted the city I loved. I’ve spent the last six years creating new memories all over the city, building over the mess she left behind. The same is true with Dublin Street. The flat you’re in was a mess. A shell on a street poisoned with betrayal. I wanted to create something beautiful in place of all the ugliness.”

His words sank inside me so deeply I couldn’t breathe. Who was this guy? Was he real?

He lifted his hand to my face, his fingers gliding softly along my jawline, and curving down my neck. I shivered. Yes, he was real.

And for the next three months he was mine.

I stood up abruptly, grabbing my clutch. “Take me back to yours.”

Braden didn’t argue. His eyes flared with understanding and he got us the check. We were out of there and in a cab before I knew it.

~16~

I had no clue where Braden lived and was surprised to be let out of the cab at the university on the walkway that led down to The Meadows. Situated above a café and a little express supermarket was a modern building hosting luxury apartments. We rode the elevator to the top, and Braden let me inside his duplex penthouse.