Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
I nod. “Right, yes, that sounds good.”
“Do you think the three of you will want to keep the family town house in Belgravia? I imagine that’s deeply sentimental to you, given your parents’ passing.”
“Not at all,” I reply.
It’s not as if I was particularly unhappy there—my brother and sister brought me tremendous joy. Our nannies and housekeepers were kind. But there’s no sentiment attached to that building for me, and I can’t imagine Dylan and Eddie will feel differently.
“Unless it’s a good investment, I think the three of us will be happy to sell.” I scramble for my phone. “I should call Dylan and Eddie.” I start to bring up our group chat and pause. “You’re sure this is happening and you’ve not made a mistake?”
“I’m sure. Your uncle wasn’t married, had no dependents. There’s no one challenging the will. Finally, everything we’ve been trying to achieve is resolved. It’s my pleasure to tell you that you are now a very wealthy woman.”
I would happily trade it all to have had parents who spent time with me, knew me, loved me.
Maybe in another lifetime. But in this lifetime, this inheritance buys freedom for the three of us.
Even though both Dylan and Eddie told me of their desire to be independent and for me to focus on myself, this inheritance severs the last strand of doubt about their ability to support themselves financially. There’s not a grain of uncertainty anymore. I definitely don’t need a rainy day fund for any of us. All I can give my brother and sister now is my emotional support, my time, and my unending love.
Freedom. The word loops around my brain. I feel it all over my body, like I’ve shrugged off ten tons of weight and I’m floating. I have a sense of calm that I don’t remember ever feeling before. And it’s not about the money. Obviously, it makes life a lot easier.
It’s about the resolution.
The past is now all firmly in the past. I no longer feel like a victim of history. I’m not my parents’ daughter. I’m not my uncle’s victim. I’m just me.
As I type out a message on the family group chat, all I can think about is Dax and how happy he’d be for me in this moment.
I’m free to have the exact future I want, even if I don’t know precisely what it looks like yet. But suddenly, the storm in my mind settles, and at least part of the answer I’ve been searching for is crystal clear.
THIRTY-SIX
Dax
I open the front door of the Holford Road house that I’m still struggling to call home to find Zach and Ellie on my doorstep, holding up a bottle of champagne.
“Surprise!” Ellie says, beaming at me.
“Congrats, mate. You finally grew up and bought a house.”
“Oh yes, that’s the key signifier for me growing up—my real estate choices.” I smooth my hands over Guinevere’s back, sleeping peacefully in the baby carrier strapped to my chest.
“Oh and the baby thing—”
“Surprise!”
I nearly jump ten feet in the air as Mum and Dad appear at the door.
“Your father still can’t park a car,” Mum says.
I stand clear of the door while everyone files in. I’ve not had any visitors here yet. My family barely ever visited my place in Marylebone, which was too small to accommodate even a fraction of the Cove clan. That’s not a problem anymore.
“You’ve got a pool I hear?” Dad asks. “Let’s have a look.”
“You want a tour before coffee?” I ask.
Everyone gives a resounding yes and so we head to the basement.
“The nanny has her room down here. It gives her some privacy.” The new nanny is very…competent. Guinevere doesn’t seem to have any complaints. Neither do I. She knows what she’s doing and I leave her to it. When she’s working, I’m working; when I come home, I want time on my own with Guinevere.
Daddy-daughter time.
Coming home is my favorite part of the day. I still love my work. I still believe the research I’m doing will change lives. Only now, I’m a little more aware of the importance of my own life and how Guinevere is the most important part of it.
“I haven’t met her yet,” Mum says. “Is she nice?”
“Perfectly,” I reply.
“And what about Eira?” she asks. “Where’s she?”
The hushed silence makes me think everyone wants the answer to that question.
“Eira is…living with a friend in Finchley.”
My mum’s eyebrows rise as if she’s expecting me to elaborate.
I don’t. Because I don’t know if she’s coming back. I don’t know if she’s still figuring out what she wants or who she is. All I can do is wait. That’s what I said I would do, and I’m a man of my word.
“Shall we go and open that champagne?” I ask, turning and heading out of the pool room.