Chapters (33)
- TITLE PAGE
- COPYRIGHT PAGE
- CONTENTS
- START READING
- PROLOGUE
- CHAPTER ONE MERRIN
- CHAPTER TWO MERRIN
- CHAPTER THREE JARVIS
- CHAPTER FOUR MERRIN
- CHAPTER FIVE JARVIS
- CHAPTER SIX MERRIN
- CHAPTER SEVEN MERRIN
- CHAPTER EIGHT BEN
- CHAPTER NINE MERRIN
- CHAPTER TEN MERRIN
- CHAPTER ELEVEN JARVIS
- CHAPTER TWELVE MERRIN
- CHAPTER THIRTEEN MERRIN
- CHAPTER FOURTEEN MIGUEL
- CHAPTER FIFTEEN MERRIN
- CHAPTER SIXTEEN MIGUEL
- CHAPTER SEVENTEEN MERRIN
- CHAPTER EIGHTEEN MIGUEL
- CHAPTER NINETEEN MERRIN
- CHAPTER TWENTY DIGBY
- CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE MERRIN
- CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO MERRIN
- CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE MERRIN
- CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR JARVIS
- CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE MERRIN
- CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX MERRIN
- EPILOGUE
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
After they’d ended the call, she lay slumped against the tree, spent and barely able to speak for the hollow shame that filled her gut at her inability to go home and honour her gran, combined with the adrenaline pumping in her system from the violent row. The simple truth was she couldn’t face going to Port Charles and couldn’t stand the idea of walking into the church. Even picturing it made her head swim. And now, on top of this, she had Ruby’s words ringing in her ears, adding to her reluctance to venture home. For the first time in her life she did not want to come face to face with her own sister.
It was not a surprise to Merrin that a day which had started so beautifully could end with ugly tears and sadness seeping from her. It was, after all, not the first time she had encountered such a thing.
On the day of the funeral, Merrin walked quietly into St Mary’s Church in Thornbury and sat awhile, talking to her gran, confirming how much she loved and would miss her before placing a small bunch of yellow primroses by a lonely, unmarked grave and letting her tears flow as she uttered words of apology. In that moment she felt close to her beloved Granny Ellen, but a million miles from home.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN MERRIN
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
MERRIN
Merrin woke to the sun coming through the French windows and the soft white curtains fluttering in the early-morning summer breeze. It would be inaccurate to say Miguel had entirely erased the hurt caused by Digby, but his lovely attention and the sheer beauty of him had certainly diluted it. Her gran’s death, almost a year ago now, had reinforced what Bella had reminded her of: that life was not a rehearsal. And for her, this had certainly been a factor in slipping further into Miguel’s arms. He made her laugh like no one else and understood the demands of her job: the long hours, the unsociable shift patterns and her utter exhaustion at the end of a trying day. He liked to pop a flower in a vase and leave it for her on reception, or he’d run her a bath when he knew she was due back. It was these little things that pepped up her day and reminded her how very lucky she was to have someone like him in her life.