Page 79 of Tattered Edges

“Are you sure? I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“This is the second time in four days, Sawyer. It’s bloody insane, and I won’t stand for it,” he replied, snatching up his crew neck from the floor. “Phone the police.”

He slipped his bare feet into his shoes, and then he was gone.

My heart was racing as I dialed nine-nine-nine. I relayed my emergency and the address, sure to convey this wasn’t the first time. When I was informed help was on the way, I checked in on the cameras again.

Rory had installed two—one hidden in the corner, aimed outside my front door; the other was in the corner of my living room. I couldn’t find him in either view.

There was no way I was going to be able to wait for help to arrive.

I needed to get over there.

The sweatshirt Rory had let me borrow earlier was still folded over the foot of the bed. I threw it on and then went looking for my skirt. Next, it was my turn to tuck my bare feet into my shoes before running out the door. I was sure I looked ridiculous, but I didn’t care.

As soon as I hit the stairwell, leading up to the third floor of my building, I heard the sound of an argument. Their voices were too muffled for me to hear what either of them were saying, and it only incentivized me to take the stairs two at a time.

I wasn’t wearing any underwear, but modesty be damned.

The higher I climbed, the clearer it became the person arguing with Rory was a woman. When I reached the landing and grabbed at my doorknob, I was met with resistance. For a moment, the yelling stopped. The door opened a crack and Rory’s face appeared.

He looked me up and down, and I watched his hardened face soften before he quirked an eyebrow at me and asked, “Really?”

“What? Did you think I would just stay on the sideline for this? Let me in.”

“Very well,” he conceded, stepping aside to grant me entrance.

I stopped short when I saw not just one woman but two.

Eloise was as casual as I’d ever seen her, in a pair of black jeans, a black sweatshirt, and tennis shoes. Juliet, standing beside her at the mouth of my kitchen, hadn’t even changed since we’d seen her after dinner.

“You?” was all I could think to say.

“Nobody else seemed to be able to get the job done,” she replied coolly. She then gave her daughter a sideways glance as she added, “Not even with the help of a key.”

I knit my eyebrows together as I looked between the two of them, trying to piece together what she could have meant. It seemed I’d suspected the wrong sibling all along.

“What job?” I asked, shifting my focus back onto Juliet. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the fact that you have no right to be here. Not in this flat. Not in this building. And while I can’t have you kicked out of the country, I would if I could.”

I reared my head back, as if I’d been slapped.

“That’s—dramatic.”

“Dramatic?” she bit. “No, I’ll tell you what’s dramatic—my late husband bequeathing you with all of this, having never met you! And the nerve of you to accept it.”

My eyebrows shot up my forehead as I gasped, “Thenerveof me?”

In the flurry of my emotions, I found it difficult to empathize with the woman, too fed up with her refusal to empathize withme.I couldn’t figure out any other way to expresswhyI’d chosen to move my life to London;whyI thought it my responsibility to do right by the bookstore;whyhaving a piece of my father mattered to me.

Still, I couldn’t help but to argue, “He knew I was his daughter foryearsand never spoke a word to me. All of this might not make up for the time we lost, but he wanted me to have it. That means something to me. So sorry it upsets you.”

“Oh, you have no idea. Did you ever stop to consider the age difference between you and Archie? You’re a year apart.A year.

“He’d already started something with me before he flounced off to New York for a summer abroad. I had no idea, for the whole of our marriage, how close I’d come to having a completely different life. It wasn’t until he died that he was brave enough to tell me the truth.

“Leaving his precious bookstore to hislovechild rather than either of his legitimate children—it’s ridiculous.”

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