“Finnegans were liked that, she told herself. Each day when she woke up, she’d swear to make it a wonderful day, to transfer herself back, mind and soul, to the life that had been filled with simple joys and easy, satisfying hours, to when the most perplexing thing to mark her day was a misplaced library book or a board member vetoing a new program. But she never made it through her second cup of morning tea before thoughts of Nick consumed her. “Finnegan, this can’t go on any longer.” Rosie’s w...ords flew through the cottage door and were followed the next second by her body. “It’s been two weeks now, and you look like hell.” “That seems to be a universal opinion. Would you like a cup of tea?” Rosie shook her head and sat down at the kitchen table. “Halley, somehow you have to work this out.” “I know.” Her voice was barely audible. Sleepless nights nourished little energy, she’d discovered quickly. “Do you love him?” “Yes.” It was useless to say she didn’t; Rosie would know, anyway, no matter what she said.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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