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The table was covered with stacks of papers that looked as though they’d fallen over and been hastily shoved back upright, out of order. There was an ancient desk covered in dust, a bookshelf full of binders, and a pile of unopened mail. The space was small, and the lighting was dim, the air musty as he took a breath. Grayson covered the top of his cup, shielding his tea.

He noticed Lucy’s coat and purse hanging from the coat rack in the corner, so it wasn’t as if no one had stepped foot in here, just that no one had bothered to do anything about the mess.

Grayson went around the desk and sat down on the chair. As he did, a cloud of dust rose into the air. He coughed, clearing his throat, and took a sip of tea before setting down his cup.

Unsure where to begin, he looked around, not quite wanting to touch anything, it was so chalky in here. Eventually, he gained the courage to flip through the stack of papers on the desk, trying to decipher what they were: shipment notices, town flyers, book catalogs, and much more. It felt as if he’d gone back in time decades, to when everything wasn’t electronic.

Within fifteen minutes, he was able to deduce that whatever system Charles was running here wasn’t the most efficient. He wondered for a moment why Charles bothered at all with the headache of a small business in his old age, but then, Grayson didn’t know much about his grandfather.

A pang ran through him at the thought. Grayson leaned his elbows on the desk, resting his face in his hands.

It hurt him to think about how little he knew his grandfather. It hurt him to be here at all, and even now, surrounded by flickering light and years of dust, he wondered if he had made the right decision in coming.

At first, when Grayson had heard about Charles’s surgery, he had wanted to be angry and spiteful. He had wanted to be indifferent—he had spent years convincing himself he couldn’t care less about his family in the States, that he didn’t care about any of those old ties.

He had tried so hard to pretend that his life wasn’t empty, wasn’t lacking. That he didn’t even notice the space where a family should have been.

Unfortunately, it never really worked. Especially when he hadn’t done a good job of making friends who could be like family, or of finding a partner whom he could love and who would love him in return. Grayson was painfully lonely.

So after thinking on it for a bit, he made a frightening decision: to try something new. He would attempt to let bygones be bygones and hold on to his last living relative on his mother’s side.

An idea that seemed difficult, even foolish, now. How could he possibly accomplish such a thing when the tsunami of a woman outside was testing his patience—four bloody fifty for English Breakfast!—as if she wanted him to book the first flight back to Dublin?

He still didn’t understand why she was so bothered by his presence, why she cared so much that he was here. She had treated him as though he had personally offended her, and he didn’t even know her.

Lord, give me strength. He prayed to a god he didn’t even know if he believed in, but facing the force that was Lucinda Ansari, he might as well try anything.

CHAPTER THREE

Lucy

After Grayson scurried out of sight to the office, Lucy released a long breath, feeling much better.

The store was hers again. She returned her attention to the dark-skinned customer who had just entered; Anna was a seventeen-year-old girl who loved page-turning thrillers.

“Happy to see you today,” Lucy said, smiling.

“Hey, Lucy.” Anna smiled, the piercing in her lower lip moving as she did.

“We got a debut in that you might like,” Lucy said. Though Anna already knew her way around the store, Lucy pointed to a face-out book in the thriller section.

“Ooh, yay!” Anna clapped her hands, her multitude of silver rings clinking together. Her thick platform boots thudded on the floor as she walked over to pick it up. Lucy left Anna to browse on her own, returning to the front counter.

From there, she watched as Anna perused the shelf, tilting her head to read the titles on the book spines.

Lucy fidgeted, still feeling restless from her encounter with Grayson. She knew Anna would take some time, and so Lucy pulled out her phone, calling her mom.

“Hello?” her mother, Iffat, said, picking up after the second ring.

“Hi, Mama,” Lucy said.

“Is everything okay?” Iffat asked, sounding confused. Lucy didn’t call her mother often.

“Yes— I just …” Lucy trailed off, unsure what to say. She didn’t want to get into the whole situation with Grayson. Iffat would need too much backstory and would also probably think it was silly. “I … I wasn’t feeling well,” Lucy eventually said.

“Do you need someone to take you to the doctor?” Iffat asked, shifting into problem-management mode.

“No! No, it’s nothing,” Lucy said, feeling bad for making her worry. “I think— I …” She sighed. “Actually, I’m fine. I’m sorry for calling.”