AllFreeNovel
Share Us
How could they not see—or care—what was going on with her?
But walking, breathing in the crisp autumn air, and being outside had a calming effect on me, and I wanted the same for Fiona.
I wanted her to get back to her former self—the same as I was back to my former self—almost.
Or, more accurately, I was growing into my new self.
I straightened.
I was a woman who took her life into her own hands—someone who decided on a path—and walked it.
No matter what.
Coming to Ireland had been the right decision for me.
Despite the loneliness.
Despite Dad refusing to talk to me.
Come to think of it, I hadn’t been able to reach Jemma or Cara for the past couple of days, either.
Was he now keeping my sisters from me, as well? My chest clenched violently.
Was he freezing me out?
Was he waiting until I came back, crawling and begging?
I’d watched him play those kinds of power games all my life though he’d never played mind games with me—probably because I never put up a fight. Never went against his will and made the effort to butt heads with him…until now.
Now everything had changed.
And loneliness was the price of this new path I was on.
A path to shape my future.
I steered Fiona, and together we crossed the street. “Look, this coffee shop looks nice; we can warm up in a second.” I grinned, almost dizzy with anticipation.
Fiona nodded. “I’m freezing. Look, what a beautiful storefront,” Fiona said when we stopped in front of the storefront of a closed bookshop—my new bookshop.
The facade was adorned with intricate woodwork, showcasing carvings that depicted scenes from classic literature, almost hidden under climbing ivy that weaved its way up the aged brick walls. The rich mahogany door, though weathered with time, still exuded an aura of elegance and nostalgia, as did the weathered brass plaque—which wasn’t readable anymore.
The massive window next to the door allowed glimpses inside, and even though the glass was dusty, the look inside was what made me fall in love with it on the spot when I found it a couple of days ago.
“It’s a shame it’s closed,” Fiona said, cupping her hands and peeking inside at the empty shelves.
“Not for long, though.” I pulled out the key, equally ornamental and antique, then unlocked the door.
Thank God for the trust fund money that flooded my bank account unexpectedly a couple of weeks ago.
And thank God that Dad hadn’t frozen my bank account, or demanded the money back.
Because I’d used the money to buy the shop the day before, after walking by it every day for the past two weeks, inspired by the stories of the past it would be able to tell.
Formulating and strengthening the plan for my future a little more with every passing day.
“No way.” Fiona’s gaze ping-ponged from me to the open door and back. “You bought a bookstore? In Dublin? Are you out of your freaking mind?”
I pulled the door open, and we stepped inside. She did a one-eighty. “When did you decide? And when did you buy it? Why didn’t you tell me? And why would you want to move here?”
