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Sophie turned onto the narrow road leading to the house, where, despite it being January, bright wild fuchsia flowers dotted the hedges on either side, their dried petals still clinging to their vibrant color. “Well, he didn’t.”
Keefe knew when his sister was lying but wouldn’t call her out on it—yet. “And you really haven’t called him?”
“No, I haven’t,” Sophie said, acting bored. She figured it was the best way to get her brother to drop the subject.
“Why not?”
Well, fanning boredom didn’t work. Maybe irritation would do the trick. “Why do you care?”
“I don’t,” Keefe said, looking out the window. Two could play Sophie’s boredom game. He knew his sister like a book. “I just thought it would be nice to get in touch, that’s all.”
“Is that all?”
“Liam was your?—”
“I know what he was.”
“All I’m saying is it would be nice to get in touch. You two were inseparable.”
“Yeah, we were. Until we weren’t.”
“I thought you broke up mutually.”
“We did. Why are you bringing all this up?”
“No reason.”
Sophie had had enough of whatever this back and forth was. “Keefe, if you have something to say, just say it.”
“Like I said, I just thought it might be nice to get in touch.”
Liam, her first love. Her first best friend. Her first everything. They had met as children here in Ireland.
A decade had passed since the last time she had seen Liam. In person anyway. She’d kept tabs on his career as a sculptor. He’d made a real name for himself.
She smiled. Good for Liam. He’d always wanted art to be his career, and he’d done just that.
Chapter2
Takingadvantage of the respite from the rain, Liam Gallagher stood at the edge of his property perched high above the sea. The sea breeze ruffled his dark hair as he stared out over the crashing waves. He had painted these waters a thousand times, but today, they seemed different—restless, as if they sensed the storm of emotions brewing in his chest.
He was back, and so was she.
Sophie O’Brian.
The one person who had shaped his life in ways he could never put on canvas. His best friend. His first love. The woman he had let go, believing they were doing the right thing, only to spend the last twenty years regretting it.
Liam had thought he was making the practical choice when they ended things. He had been twenty-three, young and foolish, ready to chase dreams in Paris, while Sophie was building a life in Massachusetts, splitting her time between business school and her parents’ pub.
They had parted on good terms, promising to always be friends, but life had a way of unraveling even the best intentions. The calls grew less frequent, the messages shorter, until one day, silence had settled between them. And then she married, and he’d told himself that she had found the life she wanted and to be happy for her.
He had failed. So much for being practical.
Suddenly, a boom of thunder shook the mountain beneath his feet, forcing him to head indoors. Liam ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly. He turned from the sea, making his way back toward the stone cottage he now called home. For years it served as his retreat, a sanctuary where he could create, away from the chaos of the art world. He had built a name for himself, his sculptures sought after by collectors and galleries, his name whispered in the same breath as the greats. And yet, none of it had ever filled the void left by her.
Now, Sophie was back in Ireland, divorced, running a pub with her twin brother, and from what Keefe had let slip, she had been through hell. Liam didn’t know the details, but he knew enough. Her marriage had been a disaster, her divorce worse.
And that’s why Liam was here: to get her back. To right the wrong they had made all those years ago.
