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“No, but I have a reputation to maintain while I’m jump-starting my career.”
“A reputation as a single woman? I don’t think other psychologists or your clients will give a damn.” I didn’t look over at her, but I could feel that icy glare.
“A reputation as someone who has their life under control. No one will come to me for therapy about how to deal with the problems that arise in their life if my own life is falling apart. An impromptu marriage when I was eighteen? A divorce less than six months later? But not a real divorce. A fake one, apparently! And now I have an estranged husband. Does any of that seem okay to you?” She spoke so quickly that her words ran together, and her voice raised an octave. There was real panic coming through that cool exterior.
I felt a little sense of relief. Her horror about us wasn’t really about me. It was about the choices she had made. “Honestly, sweetheart, I don’t see how any of this is anyone else’s business. Your clients don’t need to know about your past.”
“And nobody will if we get a very quiet divorce. Now.” As she tapped her fingers on the handle of the door, she looked out the window as I slowed in front of the restaurant. “Arman’s steakhouse?”
“Yeah. I’ve been meaning to come to this place for a while. Seems like a good a time as any. I’ve heard great things about it. Have you been here?”
“No.” She studied her hands, an expression I couldn’t name settling over her pretty features. “I haven’t.”
There was something that she wasn’t saying. “Do you have a problem with being here?”
“No, Brendan. This is fine. I’m not really all that concerned about where we get our dinner,” she snapped. Closing her eyes briefly, she took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be so rude to you. You’re dealing with this just as I am.”
“You’re upset,” I said softly as I parked. “You’re allowed to react.”
Instead of responding, she yanked the door handle and got out. As I followed suit, I took a moment and watched her stalk toward the restaurant. As her hips swayed, I shook my head. I was growing fonder and fonder of those boring gray pants. No matter how boring she dressed, she just couldn’t hide that hot body. At least not from me. I knew every inch of her curves and just where she was most sensitive.
We didn’t say much as we got a table and ordered. As soon as the wine was served, she took a long, healthy sip. “Okay. Now that we’re here, can you give me a few more details? Like how it’s even possible that our divorce papers weren’t filed and how you found out?”
Leaning back in the chair, I forced myself to relax. I’d been wondering for days about how things would be once I saw her. Would I still feel some residual anger? Regret?
Instead, I just felt strange. Like I was looking at something I couldn’t quite hold. “My father died a couple weeks ago, and—”
Her hand flew to her mouth. “I’m sorry for your loss. I…” She shook her head, clearly unsure how to go on. Which made sense. My father was the source of many of our troubles, and he had been horrible to Jillian the only time they met.
“Thank you.” I met her eyes, hoping she wasn’t able to see all the sorrow I felt. “We put things to right in the end. Made amends and all that.”
She lifted her wine to her lips. “That’s good.”
“Anyway, my lawyer was going through some old paperwork and discovered that my father had hired a private investigator to look into you a few years ago. The investigator discovered that we weren’t divorced.”
Her eyes widened. “Wait, you mean to tell me that you’ve known for years that we were still married?”
“No. My father knew for years. I don’t know why he investigated you in the first place, and he didn’t tell me what he learned after the investigation was complete. My lawyer looked into the matter himself. Our supposed divorce lawyer is serving time for running adoption scams, so I’m sure he took our money and bolted. To be fair, we did hire a firm called Quick and Easy Divorces.”
“We didn’t know any better.” She laughed dryly. “We were too young to do a divorce properly, and we were sure as hell too young to get married.”
“We were in love,” I countered.
She snorted and gripped her wine glass with both hands. “We were in lust.”
She said it like it didn’t even matter, and that struck a deep chord inside me. She was really about to imply that we’d never loved each other? True, there was lust. There was no denying that, but there was also love. The kind I’d never felt before and hadn’t even come close to feeling again.
