Mae nods.“Part of the reason I wanted all of you to come to dinner tonight is because I know Seamus left each of you some money, along with a few select possessions.”
I’m surprised, and yet…not.It hadn’t occurred to me that Murph would leave us money, even though it’s absolutely something he would do.Like Mae said, he would have wanted to ensure his loved ones were taken care of.“Okay.Can I ask why you’re telling me this now when you’re planning to tell everyone else at dinner?”
There’s that searching look again, as if she somehow expects me to put it together on my own.“Seamus didn’t just leave you money or a few possessions, Nathan.”
“I…I don’t understand.What else is there?”
She lays a hand on my face, a mix of affection and sadness in her eyes.“He left you the cottage in Ireland.”
“The…” I sputter out a bewildered laugh.“What?Why?Why me?”
“He had his reasons.You’ll know more in a day or two.You’ll have to meet with Seamus’s lawyer yourself at some point, and I can be there if you want.I decided to tell you privately now, and you can decide when to tell the others.”
The front door opens behind us, startling me.Liam, Joss, and Thea file inside, their voices blending together as my brain struggles to process what Mae just told me.I’m vaguely aware of greeting each of them, and then Mae ushering them toward the kitchen.
I remain frozen in place, my mind reeling.The cottage in Ireland.Murph’s home away from home, one of his most prized possessions.He bought it after his second novel hit bestseller status because he wanted property in his homeland so he could visit whenever he wanted.I assumed Mae would inherit the house or that he’d sign it over to Fiona since she loved the place so much.
Shit.Fiona.She’s going to be devastated, unless Murph told her or Mae warned her.Is she going to hate me?If she does, how would I feel about that?I’ve felt so much hostility and resentment toward her for so long, but how would it feel to have the tables turned?
“Damn it, Murph, what were you thinking?”I murmur to myself.
“Nathan?”
My gaze snaps to Fiona, who’s standing a few feet away, her head tilted in curiosity.
“You okay?”she asks.At my curt nod, she purses her lips, unconvinced.“I’m the last person you’d tell if you weren’t, right?”
She’s not wrong, yet hearing her say it makes my gut twist for some reason.
When I don’t answer, it’s her turn to give a curt nod.“Right.Well.Mum says to come into the kitchen for dinner.”Without waiting for a response, she turns, her bare feet squeaking against the hardwood floor.
I watch her stride away, wondering how many more times in my life I’ll have to watch Fiona Murphy walk away from me.
CHAPTER NINE ~ FIONA
A melody surfaces from the darkness and plays through my mind.From the fog, an image of my dad comes into focus.He’s sitting at the piano downstairs, playing one of his favourites, “Für Elise”.My heart expands when his bright, smiling eyes meet mine, filling me with a familiar sense of love, warmth, and acceptance.
“It’ll all make sense eventually, Fiona Mae,” he says.
My eyes fly open.My brain is sluggish as the dream scatters, and I blink against daylight when I expected the room to be cloaked in darkness.I attempt to sit up in bed, but it feels as if a lead blanket is holding me down.
This isn’t the first time I’ve dreamed about my dad since he died.He’s often justthere, in the background, a steady presence while I make my way through dream worlds.This is the first time he’s spoken directly to me, though, and his words are already fading away.
What isn’t fading is the sound of “Für Elise” coming from downstairs.For one blissful, soaring moment, my brain tricks me into believing the last few weeks have been a nightmare, and Dad is still alive.He’s the only one who ever plays the piano.The song comes to an end, and that delusional little bubble of hope bursts.Of course it’s not Dad.It was likely a remnant of the dream I was having.A prime example of how grief will play tricks on you and make you feel like you’re losing your mind.
And Idofeel like I’m losing it.I’ve been having trouble sleeping for the last week.It’s too quiet here.I’m used to noise and bustle: the sounds of the city outside my window; my roommates coming and going at all hours; muffled sounds of neighbours in hotels.When I’m on tour, I’m used to hanging out with clients until the wee hours and talking over a pint and a shared platter of some local cuisine.I’ve never needed much sleep, and can survive on a handful of hours, sometimes less, and jet lag mostly stopped being an issue for me early in my travel days.
For the last few mornings, I’ve awoken from my fitful sleep with an odd sensation I can only describe as homesickness.I’ve always missed my parents in the years I’ve been away from Honeywell, sometimes so fiercely it’s like a physical ache in my heart, but I never thought of it as beinghomesick.I didn’t miss this house, or long for walks in the park, or fantasize about the banana chocolate chip pancakes you can only get at Patsy’s Diner.I didn’t think of the town hall meetings I was missing, or the endless string of festivals Honeywell is known for.
Now, though, there’s this longing in me.A desire to wander around Hyde Park, or get a scone with clotted cream and jam from the café that’s owned by an ancient Londoner and her much younger husband.An itch to hop on a plane and visit somewhere I’ve never been before.An ache to meet a brand new group of people from all over the world and lead them through the streets of one of my favourite cities, pointing out places worth visiting, reciting history and facts I know as well as my own history, all while recommending the best places to eat, grab a pint, and shop.I long for the impossibly blue skies of Rome, the otherworldly beauty of the Scottish Highlands, and the misty cliffs of Ireland.
Ireland.A place I thought I’d always have a home, but no longer do because my dad left his house to Nathan.The shock of that still hasn’t worn off, even a few days after hearing it from Mum.I was certain a mistake had been made until Dad’s lawyer showed me the paperwork that would transfer the cottage’s deed into Nathan’s name.
My phone vibrates from my nightstand.I almost ignore it until I see Mila’s name on the screen.She’s been calling me every few days, which makes me feel simultaneously better and worse.While it’s good to hear her voice and know I’m missed, talking to her makes me wish I were with her.Then those thoughts lead to guilt because Mum needs me right now, and I should be focusing on living in the moment, even if ‘the moment’ feels like being stuck in limbo.
I answer the call and immediately jump into asking Mila questions.She’s in her home city of Prague for the next few days, leading a tour.I make her tell me about the people in her group and the things they’re doing.I even make her describe in full, sensual detail the meal she just had, before she laughs and tells me she’s had enough of talking about herself.
“How are you, my little pet?”she asks.“Be honest.You know you never need to hide from me.”
