Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70174 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70174 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
I froze.
Her half of Glenhaven.
The land of her people. Her legacy. The very thing that could have been her future, her independence, her security and… she gave it up.
For me.
Fiona watched me closely, as if waiting for me to argue, to tell her she shouldn’t have done it. But I couldn’t.
Because she chose me.
Despite everything, despite her father, despite how impossible this all seemed—she’d chosen me.
The pressure in my chest built, emotion swelling thick and unsteady. My hands curled at my sides before I finally gave in and reached for her, pulling her into my arms.
She exhaled quietly, her body pressing against mine, her fingers curling into the fabric of my jacket like she wasn’t sure if she’d ever let go.
I wrapped my arms around her and held her as tightly as I dared, my chin resting against the crown of her head as I breathed her in, feeling the warmth of her, the weight of her.
She was here.
She was real.
“You’re really here,” I murmured into her hair.
She tilted her head back, her green eyes shining with something raw and unguarded. “I told ye, didn’t I?” Her voice wobbled, but her lips curved slightly. “Who knows what the future holds?”
I cupped her face, my thumbs brushing over the soft skin of her cheeks. “I know one thing.”
She blinked up at me. “What?”
I let a grin tug at my lips, my voice dropping low. “I’m never letting you go again.”
Her breath hitched, and then she rose onto her toes, pressing her lips to mine.
The world faded. The farm, the past, every struggle—it all disappeared as I kissed her, pouring everything I had into it. Every word I hadn’t spoken. Every fear, every longing, every goddamn mile that had separated us.
When we finally broke apart, I rested my forehead against hers, our breaths mingling in the cool morning air. “Welcome to Blackburn Farms, Mrs. Blackburn.”
She laughed, still catching her breath. “Not yet.”
I arched a brow. “Then we’ve got a wedding to plan.”
Her smile grew, the tension in her shoulders finally easing.
And for the first time in weeks, the weight in my chest lifted.
Because Fiona was here.
And she was mine.
Forever.
CHAPTER 29
Fiona
Blackburn Farms – Present Day
I blink out of the spiral of memories I’d fallen into as I told Sylvie all about my love story. I had almost forgotten the tragedy woven into the layers—losing Rory, my legacy—because my life has been so wonderfully blessed over the decades since I came to Kentucky to be with Tommy.
My thumb rubs over the silver Celtic knot ring that I still wear on my left ring finger, although Tommy indeed bought me a large diamond to go with it and added more diamonds to turn it into a uniquely beautiful piece of jewelry.
Sylvie sits nestled between Tommy and me on the well-loved couch, her head resting on my shoulder. She’s quiet, deep in thought, I suppose.
I crane my neck to look down at her, studying her profile, her brows knitted in concentration, her lips pressed into a thoughtful line. This granddaughter of mine, this beautiful, curious girl, just traveled through time with me, reliving the story of how Tommy and I came to be. I’ve never told it in such detail before. Never allowed myself to remember so vividly.
Sylvie lets out a long breath and finally looks up, her expression filled with something between wonder and disbelief.
“I still can’t believe all of that happened just so you two could be together,” she murmurs, shaking her head. “I mean… you had to go through so much.”
Tommy chuckles, the deep sound of it reverberating through the room as he stretches his legs out in front of him. His arm rests along the back of the couch, fingers idly toying with a loose curl of my hair. “Your grandmother didn’t make it easy on me,” he teases, his voice warm, filled with that familiar affection that still makes my heart skip after all these years.
I turn my head to glare at him, though my amusement betrays me. “Oh, please,” I scoff. “I was the one getting thrown out of my house and bartered off like cattle. Ye just had to pine after me in a big fancy manor.”
Sylvie leans forward and flips to the next page in the album on my lap, her fingers brushing over our wedding photo. It was taken just outside the small chapel where Tommy and I got married with both his parents in attendance. The years have faded the image, but the emotion captured in that portrait of young love is as vibrant as ever. Me in my simple ivory dress, my hair pinned back with tiny pearls. Tommy, standing tall and proud, his sharp suit made somewhat casual by his well-worn boots.
Sylvie’s lips twitch as she notices his footwear. “You wore boots to your wedding?”