Page 4 of Shadowed Fate

But she's already launched into the punchline, her voice carrying across the café. A couple at the next table glances over, shock etched on their faces. Fiona meets their stares head-on, raising an eyebrow as if daring them to comment.

I sink lower in my seat, torn between mortification and grudging admiration for Fiona's complete disregard for social norms.

Fiona and I are an unlikely pair but we’ve been fast friends since the day we met. I’d gone to the library for a quiet place to sit and read, having spent the weekend alone in my cottage. I didn’t have friends, so just being around people, hearing other people have conversations and laughing, was better than one more minute shut away with nothing but my loneliness. Fiona had appeared at my elbow, startling me so badly I'd nearly dropped my e-reader.

"If you're looking for good smut," she'd whispered conspiratorially, "try 'Taken by the Alien Alpha Pack.' It'll curl those toes!"

We’d bonded over our shared love of smutty romance novels.

"Mmm," Fiona moans, pulling me back to the present. "This cake really is better than sex, I swear."

My phone buzzes. Donal's name flashes on the screen, and I feel a familiar twist in my gut. I ignore it, sliding the phone face-down on the table.

Seconds later, it buzzes again. Unable to resist, I glance at the message:

‘Can you send me $50? I'll pay you back next week, promise’

I stare at the words, a hollowness spreading through my chest. Why am I still with him? Loneliness, I realize, is a dangerous thing. It can make you cling to the smallest scrap of nothing, convincing yourself it's something.

But, sometimes not enough is worse than nothing at all. I delete Donal's message without replying.

Fiona catches my eye, her gaze sharp despite the laughter lines crinkling at the corners. "That your man?"

I shake my head. "Not anymore."

My mind drifts to the few times Donal and I had sex—fumbling, awkward encounters that left me feeling more alone than before. I glance at my half-eaten slice of cherry cake and can't help but agree—it is better than sex. At least, better than any sex I've had.

Fiona slaps her hand down on the table. "And get yourself one of those little pink rabbity thingies, girl!" She waves an imaginary vibrator in the air, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Bzzzz!"

I feel my cheeks burn, glancing around to see if anyone's staring. But Fiona's cackling laughter is infectious, and I find myself laughing despite my embarrassment.

"Fiona!" I say, trying to keep my voice down.

She winks at me. "Oh, honey, at my age, you stop caring what people think. You've got to live a little!"

I try to stifle my laughter, but it's a losing battle. Fiona is like a breath of fresh air in this town. As I look around, I see the couple at the next table. The woman's face is pinched with disapproval, while her husband studiously avoids eye contact.

They stand abruptly, chairs scraping against the floor. As they pass our table, the woman mutters something that sounds suspiciously like "figures." I feel a familiar tightness in my chest, the old instinct to shrink away, to become invisible.

But Fiona's still grinning, completely unfazed. "Don't let the door hit ya where the good Lord split ya, dears!" She calls after them cheerfully.

I shake my head, wondering how she hasn’t been fired from the library yet.

Fiona leans in, her eyes serious for a moment. "Life's too short to care what small-minded people think, Brigid. You've got to be who you are.”

I nod, but I'm not sure I can ever be that brave. In a town that's always viewed me as an outsider, as something to be feared, Fiona's attitude seems as unattainable as flight.

"Maybe someday," I murmur, more to myself than to her. Ready to change the subject before Fiona can scandalize the remaining patrons, I ask, "So, any interesting gossip from the library lately?"

Fiona's eyes light up, and she leans in conspiratorially. The scent of her perfume, spicy and sweet, mingles with the coffee aroma as she whispers, "Well, you know old Mrs. Hearn?"

I nod, picturing the prim and proper octogenarian who comes into the store for gardening supplies quite often.

"Turns out she's been sneaking out those dark romances under her coat," Fiona continues, her voice laden with glee. "I caught her trying to make off with one earlier today. Tucked right down the front of her blouse, it was!"

My eyebrows shoot up. "Mrs. Hearn? Really?" I can't quite reconcile the image of the stern-faced woman with the idea of her smuggling books about sexy stalkers.

Fiona nods vigorously, her dangly amethyst earrings jangling. "Oh yes! And not just any romances. We're talking the really good stuff—spanking, breeding kink, the whole shebang!”

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