Battling Long Years Past

Giovanni

"The Atlantic lies just beyond those cliffs. Climate's very different than Las Vegas," I clear my throat as I say.

"I've never seen anything like this," she says, turning to me, then scanning the room, the antique furniture that's been in my family for generations, the tattered rugs on the floor so necessary against the chill in these old stone estates.

I walk into the second room, which should be a sitting room, but I see it's been converted into a huge closet stuffed to the gills with dresses and shoes and bags, all brand names I recognize. All wholly unnecessary and impractical for the Scottish Highlands. Many not even worn with tags still attached.

This is Ann's work. Her pathetic legacy.

I return to the main room, trying like hell to manage whatever the fuck is going on in my head and in my gut.

"There's a bathroom through here if you need it," I say, opening the door to find they had updated the bathroom with modern luxuries.

Sienna walks toward me. "Are you okay?"

I lo