Page 11 of Modern Romance Collection December 2024 Books 1-4

It had been so perfect...and yet it had dissolved so easily. Yes, her transgression had been huge. Perhaps unforgivable, maybe even when he knew her reasons why.

All she could hope for was that when the dust had settled, and when they’d established an acceptable routine in which she could be part of her son’s life on a permanent basis, one day Quin might not look at her with such abject loathing...

Quin picked up Sol from school that day, to give Lena a break, and all Sol could talk about on the drive back to the house wasSadie. It was unusual. Sol liked people, and wasn’t shy, but he didn’t usually fixate on someone like this. Clearly he’d sensed something about her.

The fact that when he’d stood in front of his mother earlier you’d have had to be blind not to have noticed the resemblance between them.

It had knocked the air out of Quin’s lungs and then made his chest squeeze tight. He’d seen the narrow-eyed look in Lena’s eye. Nothing got past that woman. Or Roberto. But they hadn’t said anything. Yet.

Sol jumped out of the car now, when Quin came to a halt in the main courtyard, and ran into the house. Quin followed, feeling tense. Sol was in the kitchen, helping himself to the healthy snacks Roberto had left out for him—a little post-school ritual. Not for the first time Quin was endlessly grateful that he had such good support around him. Being a single parent was probably the hardest thing he’d ever done. And it had only compounded his anger at his mother for her abandonment.

And Sadie, for hers.

It had been the bitterest pill of all to swallow—the knowledge that he was subjecting his son to the same experience he’d had—growing up with no mother.

Sol spoke around the apple in his mouth and Quin put up a hand. ‘Not with your mouth full, young man. Swallow and then speak.’

Sol did so, with such comic facial expressions that Quin had to bite his lip to stop himself from smiling.

As soon as he could speak, Sol said, ‘Is Sadie gone?’

Quin felt a moment of trepidation. She might very well be gone. Maybe after she’d seen her son she had realised that actually, Quin’s fortune notwithstanding, she didn’t want to do this, and left again? Vanished into thin air.

There was such a mix of conflicting emotions at that idea that Quin said abruptly, ‘Why don’t you change out of your school clothes and put them in the laundry basket for Sara? If she has to pick them up from your floor again she said she’s going to instruct Roberto to feed you nothing but zucchini for a whole week.’

Sol made a gagging sound—he hated zucchini—and ran to his room.

Quin put a hand through his hair. He went outside and looked towards the trees that shielded the guesthouse. He walked towards it, but as he did so memories rose up and threatened to swamp him. Memories of that fateful day when he’d returned to the little beach house where he and Sadie had lived together. He’d had days-old Sol in a harness, strapped to his chest. He’d taken him out for a walk to let Sadie get some rest after an early-morning feed.

When he’d returned to the house he’d been quiet, mindful of Sol sleeping against his chest, and also that Sadie might still be sleeping. But when he’d checked the bedroom, the bed had been empty.

Assuming she was in the bathroom, Quin had waited for a minute. But he’d heard nothing. Concern had grown and, imagining that something had happened, he’d called her name softly and opened the bathroom door—only to find that room empty too.

Maybe she’d gone to the beach?

Quin had gone out to the wraparound veranda and scanned the beach. No sign of Sadie. A sense of unease like nothing he’d ever experienced had crept along his skin. Somehow, he’d known in that moment that she was gone, and yet he hadn’t admitted it to himself for some hours. Waiting. Feeding a fractious Sol with the expressed milk he’d found in the fridge.

It was only in the early afternoon that he’d found the note propped up against a mirror in the bedroom. The note that had struck him like a blow to the head, leaving him reeling.

Please believe me when I say I don’t want to leave but I have to. Don’t try to find me. Take care of Sol. I love you.

I love you.Quin let out a harsh sound. If that had been love then it had confirmed everything he’d been taught growing up. Love didn’t exist. The only love he trusted now was the love he felt for his son.

Quin broke through the tree line and made his way to the guesthouse, telling himself that if Sadie had disappeared again she’d have done them all a huge favour. The fact that he was even feeling any kind of trepidation that she might be gone again irritated him intensely.

Sadie had finished unpacking her paltry belongings some time ago, after returning from lunch, during which Quin had mainly avoided her eye and said as little as possible.

She’d put a wash on—and it was embarrassing how much that had felt like such a treat. She’d explored the entirety of the guesthouse and been blown away again by its sheer opulence, albeit tastefully understated.

She’d showered and changed into soft, worn jeans and a clean T-shirt with short sleeves. She’d resisted the temptation to put her engagement-wedding ring back on her finger and instead had put it on a plain chain around her neck. She couldn’t bear for it not to be touching her skin somewhere. It had become something of a talisman in the last four years, along with the picture of Quin holding Sol when he was a tiny baby.

She’d found a massive TV behind a sliding wooden door, along with a sound system. Books lined shelves—thrillers, literary fiction, commercial fiction, non-fiction. Sadie’s fingers had itched to pick up one of the books—she hadn’t had the mental headspace to do something as relaxing as reading in years. Four years. When she’d been with Quin she’d read voraciously.

Now she was in the bedroom. It was like an oasis of calm, with dark polished wood and soft textiles. Earthen colours. The massive bed looked so inviting that Sadie had no choice but to kick off her shoes and crawl onto it, groaning a little at the way it cushioned her body. Weariness crept over her...a bone-deep weariness. She felt the adrenalin of the last twenty-four hours finally draining from her system.

She was about to close her eyes when she heard a sound, and looked up to see Quin standing in the doorway. Instantly any sense of peace vanished and adrenalin flooded her system again.

She sat up and scooted off the bed. ‘Sorry, I was just—’

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