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“Not likely to give me a heart attack.” He gave my steak a pointed look. “If you keep eating like that…”
The dinner droned on, and it actually was dinnertime by the time we left the restaurant. Don hadn’t had time to pick me up after his last appointment, so he stayed with me as I hailed a cab and then gave me a dry peck on the lips. As his hands settled around my waist, I waited to feel at least one butterfly in my stomach, but nothing happened.
Then, when he patted me on the shoulder, any thoughts of romance immediately fizzled. “I’m a man of experience, Jill. You should listen to me.”
It took all my willpower to keep the smile on my face. “Right. Thank you for dinner. It was lovely.” Before he could lecture me again on the price of the steak, I ducked into the cab and shut the door. After directing the driver to my apartment, I closed my eyes and sighed.
Don was the first man I’d dated in years. In truth, I didn’t know why I’d even agreed to go out with him except that he was everything my ex-husband wasn’t. Grounded. Stable. Mature.
Easy.
With Brendan, there had been nothing but chemistry and enough fire to set the city ablaze. From the moment I laid eyes on him, I’d wanted him, and at the tender age of twenty, I mistook that kind of fire for true love.
We tore up the sheets before we even went on a date. We married before our first-year anniversary, and then it all fell apart in the worst way. Even now, it pained me to think about it.
I hadn’t seen Brendan since before the divorce was final, but as much as I wished otherwise, he was never far from my thoughts. The last eight years hadn’t lessened the pain, which was why I’d even agreed to see Don, I supposed. I planned to be a grief counselor, and to achieve that dream, I needed more stability in my life.
But the stability was quickly becoming like cement wrapped around my feet. Instead of holding me steady, it was holding me hostage.
And then there was the weight of secrets that also weighed me down. Secrets I simply didn’t want to talk about.
Like my whirlwind marriage and equally whirlwind divorce.
Just letting the thought enter my mind caused my teeth to grind together even more, and the butterflies that were missing with Don made themselves known. And the pain…
Stop it.
It was always this way. Every time I thought of Brendan, my insides squeezed with longing and missing and regret.
And the worst part was that I didn’t feel that I could tell anyone about my marriage or divorce. If I was honest, I simply didn’t want to remember that chaotic part of my life. Even after all these years, it still hurt and was still so embarrassing to know that I’d lost my sanity for a while.
I also wanted a sterling reputation. After all, who wanted a counselor who acted on emotions and raw lust rather than the logic I relied on now? Thankfully, no one thought to ask a single twenty-six-year-old about ex-husbands, and the only person who knew me when I was Mrs. Brendan Ward was my best friend and roommate, Danielle, who knew not to bring it up.
As soon as I signed the papers, I wasted no time going back to my maiden name, Jillian Quinn. I couldn’t move fast enough to erase my failed marriage and the pain that it had wrought. Shortly after, I enrolled into my duel M.S. and Psy.D program, moved in with Danielle, and never looked back.
Well, except in my mind.
“Miss? We’re here.”
Blinking, I looked out the window and gathered my thoughts. Swiping my credit card, I paid the driver, thanked him, and hurried into the apartment. In the balmy spring evenings, my apartment building had a reputation for attracting loiterers, and they weren’t always harmless high school students bored and looking for a quick thrill. Ignoring the catcalls, I punched in the code for the outside door and hurried to the elevator.
The third story two-bedroom apartment I shared with Danielle was small, but it was still something I could never afford on my own. Danielle was an executive assistant in a high-end PR firm and made enough money to afford the whole apartment, but I paid her what I could from my part-time counseling job while still trying to squirrel some money away so I could open my own practice. I had dreams of fast-tracking my career. I needed to know that I could be successful at something.
Unlocking the door, I walked in and hung my purse on the hook beside it. Danielle’s bag was on the floor, but it didn’t bother me anymore. I was neat, painfully neat if you believed her words, and she was messy. Chaotic. There was a time when I was just like her.
