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His lips tip up in a smile. “I’m happy for you, brother.”

“I never expected this turn of events, and that’s the truth. But I can’t see myself without her. And she deserves better than the tiny flat above the pub.”

“Has she complained?”

“Not once. But Christ, Kane, I don’t know how our parents raised us all up there for as long as they did. It’s tight with just Izzy and me. And I want to give her a pretty house that she can fuss over.”

“Of course, you do. Da wanted that for Ma, as well. That’s why he bought her the house as soon as he could. If you can afford to give her more, why would you stay at the pub?”

“Well, that’s the sticky part. Let’s talk price.”

“I’m not going to sell the land to you, Keegan. For a couple of reasons. First, you couldn’t afford it. Oceanfront property on this island goes for a million an acre, easy. And secondly, you’re my brother. I love you.”

“You won’t sell me the land because you love me?”

“That’s right. I’ll gift two acres to you.”

“No.” I stand, but Kane stands with me and lays his hand on my shoulder.

“Hear me out. I’ll gift it to you, and I’ll never buy you another birthday or Christmas gift again, if that’s the way you want it. I won’t pay for the house to be built, that’s on you.”

“I don’t want you to pay for any of it, Kane. I said before, you don’t pay my way. I don’t give a rat’s ass that you have more money than God himself.”

“What am I going to do with all of it if I can’t bless me family with it, as well?” he counters, his Irish up. “It means nothing if I can’t share it with the people I love. If it’s two measly acres you want, out of the twenty I own—which is more than I need—you can bloody well have them! Because you’ll be nearby with your family, and it’ll bring joy to you and to me at the same time.”

I sit back down and stare out at the ocean. How am I supposed to argue with that?

“I’d like to bring her out here to make sure she likes the property before we make it legal and I hire someone to draw up the plans.”

“Of course,” Kane says.

“Are you going to be a pain in the arse neighbor?”

My brother laughs and drinks the last of his coffee. “Hell yes, I am.”

* * *

“The Emerald City is going to enjoy these nice warm temperatures for the next few days, but then this low-pressure system that’s currently sitting up here off the coast of Alaska will head our way, bringing us some cool air and dropping us down into the forties for the weekend. Sorry, folks, I’m just the messenger. Now, I want you to stay safe around the water as we’re calling for high waves with that wind…”

“She’s so damn good,” Maeve says. We’re all gathered at Kane’s house to watch Izzy’s debut on television.

What we’re watching now is the repeat. This particular station runs the morning news twice. Live from five to seven in the morning, and then again from seven to nine.

It was too damn early to ask everyone to meet at five.

But no one balked at coming to watch the seven-o’clock show.

Of course, I was pinned to the TV at the flat at five, and I didn’t miss a minute of Izzy’s weather report.

“That red dress is smoking hot on her,” Maggie says.

I couldn’t agree more.

The dress fits her like a glove. Her makeup is heavier than I’m used to seeing on her, and her long, blond hair is down around her shoulders and teased into long waves.

“Izzy, isn’t there something you can do about that weekend forecast?” the weekend anchor, Chuck, asks her.

Izzy chuckles and shrugs her shoulders in apology. “I’m sorry, Chuck, but the good news is, once this bout of cooler weather subsides, we’ll be back in the sixties with some nice sunshine for several days.”

“That is good news. Thank you, Izzy, and welcome again. We’re happy to have you.”

“Thank you, Chuck.”

The anchor bids everyone farewell for the day, and I get a text on my phone.

Izzy: Just getting off the ferry. Should be home soon.

I grin and reply.

Me: Just come over to Kane’s. I came to see the baby.

It’s not a complete lie. The baby is here. Currently being held by my mother.

“Izzy’s just getting off the ferry. I told her to come here.”

“My breakfast charcuterie spread is ready,” Maeve says as she hurries to the dining room table nearby. “I just have to grab the fruit from the fridge.”

“What in the hell is a charcuter board?” I ask.

“Charcuterie,” she corrects me. “It’s usually a fancy cheese and crackers tray, but I made it for breakfast, so it has waffles and fruit and all the toppings, along with bacon and eggs and a complete mimosa bar.”

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