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Chapter One
Liam
Shit. “Yeah, we don’t know when the resort will be back open.” I have been on the phone for over an hour with a resort in the Bahamas where I was supposed to be conducting a photo shoot for a magazine. The issue is the town it is in was hit by a hurricane five days ago, and now they have no idea when it is going to be back fully functioning. The magazine only pays me when the shot is made.
“Do you have a guesstimate?” I am not hard up for money or anything. I have done good for myself. I have been a traveling photographer for the past five years, and because I am always moving around, I don’t own anything, and all of my accommodations are on the magazine I am shooting for. So, my bank account is robust, but, this shoot was my ticket into the big leagues.
I was being sent to shoot the coronation of the new Island President. Along with a photoshoot, I was being granted an interview with her, and if the magazine liked it, I would be promoted to head photographer with interview permission. That is where the big bucks are at. “Liam, grab the bread out of the oven,” Dad calls from the front of the store. Damn it. I look at the phone, waiting for the person on the other end to come back, but I know if I don’t get this bread out, it is going to burn. Hanging up, I pull his bread out of the oven and put it on the counter.
I come from a typical Irish family. I am a first-generation Irish American. My parents immigrated here from a small town of 4400 people from Cashel, Ireland, a week after their wedding. My siblings and I were born here. My parents cleaned houses while saving money to realize their dream of opening a bakery, and finally, when my baby sister, Aisling, was four years old, their dream came true.
My siblings and I came here every day after school, learning the business and spending time here. I think they assumed we would all want to follow in their footsteps, but it didn’t happen. My older brother, Cillian, became a lawyer. I am a photographer, and my little sister, well, she is still trying to figure out her dream.
I have not been home in three years, and each of those years, my mother has guilted me. So, this year, I decided to come home a week before St. Patrick’s Day and stay for a few days before heading to the Bahamas. I should have been gone almost a week ago, but I am still here. “Liam, have you heard from your brother?” Dad asks, walking into the kitchen.
“No. I figured he called you and mom.”
“He is worse than you are with communicating. Can you call him for me? He was supposed to be here two days ago.” Yeah, this year, all three of us were supposed to be home at the same time to make my parents happy, but nope, I am the only one to show up.
“No problem.” Pulling out my phone, I dial his number.
“O’Doyle.” Rolling my eyes, I can’t help but smirk at his greeting. He did not look at his phone before he answered it.
“Brother,” I say, trying not to laugh when he curses.
“Fuck. Liam, how are you?”
“Wondering where the hell you are and why I am the only one here taking all the slack from our parents.”
“Aisling didn’t make it?”
“No. Have you heard from her?”
“A couple of days ago when I sent the plane ticket to go home.” Well shit that doesn’t sound good.
“I will call her. Where the hell are you?”
“I had someone come up.”
“Ah, it is a ‘someone,’ is it? Does she have a name?”
“She does, but you don’t need to worry about it.” I am going to poke him some more when his phone muffles a bit but not enough. I can hear him, and I am shocked at the intimacy of the conversation. “Little one, please put clothes on. I am trying to give you some rest, but if you don’t cover up the addictive sugar, you won’t be able to walk later.”1`
See. Holy shit. “Liam, I will call mom and dad later and give them my apologies. Take care, little brother.” He hangs up, and I find myself staring at the phone. Asshole. I text my sister a message telling her to call me before putting my phone back. My father comes into the kitchen carrying empty trays, and then the chime above the door sounds.
“Liam, can you get that? I need to refill the trays.”
“Sure thing, dad.” Walking behind the old school bead curtains, I begin with the greeting we learned as children, but then the air is sucked from my lungs. “Welcome to the O’Doyle’s bakery where everything is like being…holy hell.” My eyes are blinded by the most beautiful bright light I have ever seen. I thought I knew what the sun looked like until this moment. Who the hell is she? “Aingeal.”
