Down London Road (On Dublin Street 2)

Joss left before I could respond to her threat. I wasn’t entirely sure what she meant, but I knew that when she wanted to be, she was the most determined person on the planet. I did not want to be someone she was determined to save.

It sounded exhausting.

4

‘I’m sorry, Malcolm. I can’t.’ I felt my heart rate speed up as anxiety crawled into my gut to play kickboxer. I hated turning down his generous offer. Once I started throwing the word ‘no’ around, things usually went downhill from there.

‘Are you sure?’ he asked quietly on the other end of the line. ‘It’s not until April. That gives you plenty of time to find someone to look after your mum and Cole for the weekend.’

Malcolm wanted to take me to Paris. I wanted to be taken to Paris. I’d never been out of Scotland, and I imagined I was like most people my age in that I wanted to see a bit of the world outside the one I’d been raised in.

But it wouldn’t happen.

‘I don’t trust anyone else to look after them.’

Thankfully, Malcolm’s sigh didn’t sound exasperated and to my surprise it was followed by, ‘I understand, baby. Don’t worry about it.’

Of course I still did. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Stop worrying.’ Malcolm laughed softly. ‘It’s not the end of the world, Jo. I like how much you care about your family. It’s admirable.’

A flush of heat, of pleasure, rose from my chest all the way into my cheeks. ‘Really?’

‘Really.’

For a moment I didn’t know how to respond. I was relieved that he was being so laid-back about my ‘no’, but I was still anxious. Only now I was anxious for a different reason.

My affection for Malcolm was growing deeper by the day. So was my hope.

The past had taught me that hope was far too fragile a thing to cling to.

‘Jo?’

Oops. ‘Sorry. Woolgathering.’

‘About me, I hope.’

I grinned, and let the purr enter my voice. ‘I can come over after work tonight to make it up to you.’

Malcolm’s own voice deepened. ‘I look forward to it.’

We hung up and I stared at the phone in my hand. Dammit. I was hoping.

Hoping that this time it really was going to work out.

‘According to Braden I ambushed you.’

I glanced up in surprise as I pushed my bag into the locker. It was Friday night and the bar was already in full swing. I was late for work, so I hadn’t had time to really chat with Joss and Alistair, who was covering Craig’s shift and was already manning the bar. I’d ducked out during a lull in the crowds to get a drink of juice and some chewing gum from my bag. ‘Pardon?’

Joss leaned against the doorway to the staff room, the music from the bar beating loud behind her. She had a disgruntled look on her face. ‘I told Braden what I said to you last night and he said I ambushed you.’

I smiled. ‘Maybe a little.’

‘He told me I have a lot to learn.’

That earned an eyebrow raise. ‘Apparently so has he.’

‘Yeah.’ Joss huffed. ‘He’s sporting a bruise the size of my fist on his upper arm. Condescending asshat.’ She shrugged. ‘He also, maybe, was kind of, possibly, a little bit right.’

She looked so uncomfortable it was almost funny. ‘Joss, you were trying to be a good friend.’

‘Braden says I have to be stealthy. That includes not using the word “whore” in any capacity.’

I flinched. ‘Aye, that would be good.’

Joss took a step towards me, all her self-assurance seeming to have disappeared. ‘That came out all wrong last night. You know that, right?’

‘Does this mean you’re keeping your nose out of my business, by any chance?’

She scoffed. ‘Yeah, okay.’

‘Joss …’

‘I’m just going to be better at it. Less ambushing, more corralling.’

There was that word again. ‘You know, I would think if you were trying to be “stealthy” you wouldn’t tell me about your intentions to veer me from my “path of misery”.’

Joss crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes narrowed on me. ‘Don’t you air-quote me, woman.’

I held up my hands in surrender. ‘Hey, I’m just saying.’

‘Ladies!’ Alistair’s head appeared at the doorway into the bar. ‘A little help!’

I grabbed my gum and brushed past Joss. I smiled as I guessed at what was really bothering her. ‘I’m not mad at you, you know.’ I looked over my shoulder to see her following me.

She nodded, giving a little shrug as if she didn’t care when she obviously did. Which was why I wasn’t mad at her. ‘Okay, cool.’

We hit the bar to see the customers standing all along it.

‘So, you and Cole are still coming to dinner on Sunday?’

I grinned at her, thinking of the Nichols family and Elodie’s mouthwatering roast dinner. ‘Wouldn’t miss it.’

The Nicholses’ home was the kind of home I’d wished Cole and I had been brought up in. Not for the fact that it was this gorgeous period flat in Stockbridge – although that certainly would have been nice – but because it was full of warmth and real familial solidarity.

Elodie Nichols was Ellie’s mum. When she was younger she’d fallen hard for Braden’s dad, Douglas Carmichael, and she’d then fallen pregnant. Douglas had broken things off but offered financial help and a lackadaisical impersonation of a father. Braden had stepped up to the plate, taking his younger half sister under his wing and playing man-child dad/big brother. The two were close – so close in fact, that Braden was closer to Elodie and her husband, Clark, than he was to his own mother. As for Douglas, he’d died a few years ago, leaving money to Ellie and his businesses to Braden.