Love in Dublin

by Jennifer Gracen

  Not for the first time, he allowed himself to wonder what kind of future they could possibly have together, if that was even a possibility. He knew it wasn’t, but he sometimes permitted himself little kernels of fantasy in the hidden safety of his head.

  He daydreamed about what it’d be like to come home to her after a day at work. Having dinner with her as she regaled him with tales of whatever she’d done that day…

  No, that wouldn’t do. Her life was traveling. She wouldn’t ever be one to come home to, as wonderful as he could wish it to be. And it would be wonderful. Because he didn’t just crave her body, he enjoyed their friendship. He liked listening to her, watching her talk with her animated gestures. He liked the way she instinctively knew how to draw him out of his shell and how to handle him. She was very intuitive, and he admired that. Maggie was great with people in general, he’d seen plenty of evidence of that. She was lovely…

  But she was younger. A decade separated them. Surely there were things she wanted one day that he could no longer give her. That sure didn’t fit in with his daydreams about being with her.

  “You’re lost in your head again,” she said playfully. “Come out and be with me.”

  Damn, she knew him well already. He tipped up her face to kiss her mouth, lingering on her sweet lips. “Can I ask ya something that’s none of my business,” he said, “but I’m just bloody curious?”

  She only grinned. “Always.”

  He hesitated, but jumped. “Do you want children someday?”

  She blinked. Clearly, that wasn’t what she’d expected him to ask. “I never say never,” she finally said, “but on the whole, no, I don’t think so. Why?”

  “I just…” He shrugged again. “You’re young, Maggie. I just wondered if you thought about it. I know you’re traveling now, but did you want that for your future.”

  “I told you,” she said, her voice dropping, growing sober. “I don’t think about the future. Just the present.”

  He blinked at her tone. There was firmness there… and a subtle push back. Both against his words, and against the future. Against hope, maybe. Against him, surely.

  It hit him with a jolt: maybe she didn’t want to think of a future without her husband, so she simply refused to.

  Colin thought of her flat. How there weren’t pictures, or lots of her things strewn about. Nothing of her. Everything was temporary. She took that idea to a whole new level, didn’t she? Yes, she had ultimate freedom, but she was also alone. Just as alone as he’d been, but a million times more so. And her being alone, while initially wasn’t her choice, was now. Suddenly, he was sad for her.

  “You’re frowning again,” she said.

  He swallowed and leaned in to kiss her temple. “Sorry.”

  “You’re surprised.”

  “Pardon?”

  “You’re surprised to hear a woman say she may not want children.”

  “After all you’ve been through, not really. I think…” Jesus, shut up, McKinnon. It doesn’t matter what you think. “Scratch that. Forget it.”

  “No, tell me. Now I’m the one who’s curious.”

  He closed his eyes, nuzzled the soft skin at her hairline. Sensing this conversation could angle into bad territory, he tried to choose his words with care. “I… I think you’re too young to make that strong a decision yet, is all. And, again, it’s not my business.”

  She pushed back and leaned up on one elbow to face him. “First of all, I love my freedom too much to give it up. That’s selfish, but it’s true. Second, I lost someone I loved with every fiber of my being. And with a child, it would be even worse. Much, much worse. I can’t bear the idea of that kind of…” She paused, brows furrowed, searching for the right words. “The thought of losing someone who means as much to me as a child would? I’m not willing to risk that.” She blew out a long breath. “Besides, I’ve seen enough of the world to know it’s a chaotic, sometimes scary place. Feels like it’s getting worse with every month. Bringing a kid into the mix? No, I don’t really want children. And I’m fine with that.”

  “I understand those fears,” he murmured. “And I’m not dismissing your thoughts or your position. But… having children can be an affirmation of life and hope. The exact opposite of what you said.”

  Her eyes flashed.

  “And, well, you are young yet, Maggie. So—”

  “You know, you keep saying how young I am.” She cocked her head to the side and pinned him with a look. “That bothers you, doesn’t it? Our age difference.”

  “Not at all. I’m just aware we’re at very different places in our lives.”

  “Yes, in some ways. But it’s not, like, a gaping divide that can’t be crossed.” She shook her head as her mouth twisted ruefully. “Sometimes you act like you’re a hundred years old.”

  He huffed out a coarse laugh. “Sometimes I feel like it, truth be told.”

  “That’s criminal. You’re not done, dammit.” Her eyes narrowed, spearing him with a searching look that sent ripples through him. “When don’t you feel old and weary? When do you feel as young and vital as you still actually are? Do you ever?” she demanded. “I want to know, so I can help you get to that place more often.”

  The ripples of energy in his chest turned into edgy waves that flowed through him. But he met her steely stare and murmured, “Whenever I’m with you, I don’t feel old. I don’t feel weary, or done. I feel alive.”

  Their eyes locked. The charged moment crackled with electricity. He had to look away. He let his eyes fall to where his fingertips trailed along her arm.

  “Sometimes I do with my kids, as well,” he continued. “Sometimes, during a good run on the treadmill at the gym. Sometimes when I’m outside on a sunny, rare good weather day. But… most of all, when I’m with you. Every time.”

  “That’s not often enough.” Her coffee-colored eyes had gone wide with concern. “What will you do when I leave?”

  The pang that hit his heart was brutal. He tried to shrug. “I’ll miss you,” he admitted. “And go back to my life.”

  “Not good enough.” She shook her head hard, and he saw she was getting fired up. “Life is what you make it,” she insisted. “There’s a whole world out there. You want to see it. Do that, Colin. For yourself.”

  “Maggie.” He smiled ruefully, lifting his hand to tenderly sweep her hair back from her face. He tucked some of the silky gold strands behind her ear. “If there’s anything defining about me, and my life, it’s that I’ve never done anything for myself.”

  “That’s heartbreaking,” she spat. “And it doesn’t have to be that way. Stop doing that. And while you’re at it, stop the pity party.”

  Blood rushed through him, a spark of ire. “Pardon?”

  “Yes, you gave things up when you were younger. But as a result, you do have good things in your life. You keep telling me what a gift kids are. You have that.”

  “I know that,” he said, muscles tensing in his neck and shoulders. “I’m grateful for them every day.”

  “I know you are, but you still punish yourself for how your life went in the first place. But you’re free now. You can do things for yourself, at last.”

  He sat up too. This turn in the conversation wasn’t something he could lie down through. “I have responsibilities,” he said, “that say otherwise.”

  “Yes, your kids, of course. But they’re closer to being grown than you care to admit. Your parenting job, on a day-to-day basis, is almost done. And there’s your job, which is important, but hey, you hate it.” Spots of color bloomed on her cheeks. Yup, she was fired up, all right. “And you have done things for yourself. When you chose to.”

  “Really?” he countered, getting a bit fired up himself. “Name one.”

  “You asked for a divorce,” Maggie shot back. “In Ireland. Where it’s a long and drawn out, seemingly impossible thing. But you did that. That wasn’t just for her, that was for you too. And you were right to do it. So stop punishing you
rself for the fact that your marriage didn’t work.”

  “I’m not anymore.”

  “You are. You still do. All the time.”

  He felt his muscles tense as she talked, as she stared him down. His blood pulsated in his limbs and his jaw drew tight.

  “And this… whatever you want to call it,” she said, gesturing between the two of them. “This fling? Affair? The sexy togetherness we’ve been having these past three weeks? That’s something for yourself. It’s not just for me.” She gripped his shoulder. “And it’s good for you. You’ve been enjoying us. That doesn’t make you selfish, you know. To want something for yourself. That makes you human. And long overdue.”

  Something heavy and dark swirled in his chest. He clamped his mouth shut.

  “And there you are, shutting down in front of my eyes.” She sighed. “I don’t want you to go back to being isolated, gruff, wounded Colin when I leave. He left the building a few weeks ago, and I hope he never comes back.”

  He stared at her as his heart thumped.

  She touched his cheek and said, “I love seeing the light in your eyes lately. I love that I’ve watched you let your walls down a little. I love that I’ve helped do that for you. But when I leave, you need to keep building on that. On your own, for yourself. Don’t you get it?”

  Words crashed around in his head. Emotions wreaked the same havoc in his chest. He just stared back at her.

  “Say something,” she commanded.

  “Nothing to say to all that,” he grumbled.

  “The hell there isn’t!” She gripped his arm. “Stop shutting yourself down. Stop punishing yourself for past choices. The past is the past, leave it there.”

  “I have been,” he bit out. Tension pulsed through him, building higher and hotter in his blood.

  “Not strongly enough.” Her hand moved to his chest. He knew she must feel his heart pounding. “And honey, no matter what, don’t lie to yourself. You can do things for yourself. If you can slip away for weekend trips with me, you can go on trips of your own for a few days. You can do lots of things now. You just keep choosing not to. That’s a choice. Your choice.”

  His heart was hammering now, and his mouth had gone dry. He swallowed hard. “All I did,” he murmured dangerously, “was ask if you wanted kids. I didn’t ask to be fucking psychoanalyzed in return.”

  “I know. But too bad. The conversation took a turn and I’m calling you out.”

  “Because I asked if you had plans for the future. I hit a nerve, so you want to hit one of mine. It’s a deflection tactic.” He recognized that easily. Trish was a master of the deflection tactic. He’d grown to despise that about her. A muscle jumped in his clenched jaw as he said from between his teeth, “If you’re trying to distract me by flinging things back at me and rattling my cage, it’s working. And I don’t appreciate it.”

  She stilled, eyes widening. “That’s not what I was doing.”

  “Sure about that?” He gazed back at her, unflinching, even as his blood sizzled through his veins. “Maggie, you don’t know me.”

  “Yes, I do.” She speared him with a fiery look. Everything in her posture was defiant. “You’ve told me plenty, I’ve spent time with you, and I’ve seen you. Seen you. The real you, that you keep under guard. The real you who writes stories by longhand in a crowded pub so he’ll feel less alone. The real you who walked along the Cliffs with me, constantly looking to make sure my footing was secure and I was safe. The real you who held me when I couldn’t stop shaking from a nightmare. The real you who warmed up to me in spite of your best efforts not to.” She pointed a finger at him. “I do know enough of you, Colin. Which is why you resent what I said.”

  His jaw tensed, and where his blood beat at his temples, the beginnings of a headache simmered. “You’re an expert on me after six weeks, eh?”

  “Expert? God, no,” she said with a little snort. “Your layers have layers, and I don’t know if you’ll ever let anyone see them all. But I do know enough. Enough to know you’re pretty pissed off because I just spoke a few uncomfortable truths.” She held his gaze. “I see you.”

  His pulse skyrocketed as something hot and fierce shot through his veins. He didn’t know why he was angry, only knew that yes, he sure as bloody hell was. He licked his dry lips and stared back at her. “Know what I see?” He drew a hard breath before diving off the edge. “You can attack me all you want, but I’m not the only one in this room who hides from things. I’m just the only one who admits it. And if I’m lying to myself about my life, and about myself? I’m not the only one here doing it. I’m just the only one here who owns it.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Maggie’s heart skipped a beat as her breath caught. It was like the air had gone wavy with lightning, thick and heavy, pure electric charges. She blinked twice, then said quietly, “Note to self: when Colin is pushed hard enough, he will push back twice as hard. Damn.”

  His eyes flashed and he went still as she had. Then he shook his head and threw back the covers, rising from the bed. “I was rude. I shouldn’t have said that. I apologize.” His pale face flushing, he leaned down to grab his briefs and jeans.

  “You don’t have to apologize,” she said, watching him pull his clothes on with stiff, jerky movements. “I was rude first. Don’t leave.”

  “I think it’s best.” His voice was as gruff and distant as the day she’d met him.

  Oh man, this was bad. “Colin.” He wouldn’t even look at her. She wasn’t sure if he was more upset with her or with himself. She sprang from the bed and went to him. “Please don’t go.” He’d already pulled on his jeans, and as he pulled up the zipper, she grabbed his hands to still him. “I pushed, and obviously too hard. I’m sorry.”

  He met her eyes and nodded, but said nothing. The lines in his face were deep creases now, and his intense blue eyes glittered like ice… his shields going up.

  “Please don’t shut down on me.” Her hands lifted to his face. “I don’t want you angry, I shouldn’t have poked at your sore spots. I’m sorry.”

  “You already apologized. I accept your apology.”

  “Then take a deep breath, stop trying to leave, and get back in my bed.”

  “No.” The scowl was back. “Not tonight.”

  Her stomach twisted as he pried her hands from his face and stepped away. She watched as he plucked his shirt off the floor. A desperate urgency began rising in her chest. She grabbed her robe, pulling it on as she followed him into the front room.

  “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, or piss you off,” she said. “I hate that I’ve clearly done both.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Right. Which is why you’re running away from me.”

  “I’m not running,” he said, even as he slid his feet into his shoes.

  She sighed. Clearly he needed some space, but she worried that if he left now, he might not want to see her again. That maybe he’d just shut down again, both to her and to the world. “What can I say to make you stay?” she asked plaintively. “Please, let’s talk this out. I hate the look on your face.”

  He glanced at her. “I just need to go, Maggie. The night’s shot. Let it be.”

  “Not before you tell me something.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “What is it you think I lie to myself about?”

  He shook his head and reached for his coat. “I said too much as it is.”

  Her stomach lurched. “No, no you didn’t. You never say enough.” Desperately, she almost shouted, “I. Am. Sorry.”

  “I know, Maggie. I am too.” He reached for the doorknob. “Good night.”

  “Hey.” Her voice rang out like a shot, stopping him. “You didn’t answer my question. Answer me.”

  As he stood in the doorway, his eyes landed on hers. “Doesn’t matter, really. We all lie to ourselves on some level. It’s how we survive.” He closed the door behind him.

  She stood in the middle of the room, arms wrapped around herself and her stomach
in knots, aching.

  *

  Colin tapped away at the keyboard, filling in the last bits of data necessary. The phone intercom buzzed and he sneered at it. Punching the button, he bit out, “Yes?”

  “Sorry to bother you, Colin,” came Theresa’s meek voice. His assistant had been tiptoeing around him since yesterday morning, when he’d gotten to work in a clearly foul disposition. Since leaving Maggie’s flat late Tuesday night, his insides hadn’t stopped churning. Her insightful observations had hit a mark, and what was worse, he’d run, just like she’d said. He wasn’t proud of that, but he’d still needed space.

  He’d growled and grunted his way through Wednesday, even kicking the copier when it jammed. He put on his best game face through dinner with Roisin last night and hit the gym hard this morning, but couldn’t shake his rotten mood. Worst of all, he hadn’t heard from Maggie since he’d left her standing in her front room, looking upset, those beautiful brown eyes filled with remorse and concern. He didn’t blame her for her silence. He’d been a surly bastard. He’d run, like she said. Like a coward.

  She had apologized profusely. He believed her when she claimed she hadn’t meant to dig so hard. He owed her more of an apology too, both for his attitude and for leaving. Because, he knew, she’d been right. All the things she’d said were dead on, which is why it had unsettled him so much.

  He wanted to fix things. He just had to man up and do it.

  “You have a guest.” Theresa’s voice through the intercom brought him back.

  “What? I’m busy.”

  “She’s insistent.”

  She? Colin blinked. Roisin never came to see him at work. Maybe it was Shannon? He’d left her a voice mail two days before, and his favorite sister sometimes came by to take him out for lunch. Staring at the phone, he finally grunted out, “Whoever it is, send her in.”

  The door to his office opened a few seconds later, and Maggie walked in.