My city. I pondered that phrase, wondered why Barrons felt that way. He never said โour world.โ He always said โyour world.โ But he called Dublin his city. Merely because he'd been in it so long? Or had Barrons, like me, been beguiled by her tawdry grace, fallen for her charm and colorful dualities? I looked around โmyโ bookstore. That was what I called it. Did we call the things of our heart our own, whether they were or not?
Karen Marie MoningFor the record, Irish," he informed her tightly, just in case she got the wrong idea, "I kneel to no one.
Karen Marie MoningThey had each other and there was a love between them that would withstand anything. Alina and I had always intuited, with no small wry pique, that, although our parents adored us and would do anything for us, they loved each other more. As far as I was concerned, that was the way it should be. Kids grow up, move on and find a love of their own. The empty nest shouldn't leave parents grieving. It should leave them ready and excited to get on with living their own adventure, which would, of course, include many visits to children and grandchildren.
Karen Marie Moning