Page 207 of Modern Romance November 2024 5-8

‘Where do you think she went?’ his mother asked and a long, low sigh escaped him.

‘I have no idea,’ Santos admitted heavily. And he had no idea even where to begin to look for her. Once again, a sense of hopelessness swamped him. Was love even enough? he wondered. He really didn’t know if he could do it on his own if Mia wasn’t going to fight for their marriage... It took two, as she’d said herself, and there was only one of them here.

So, Santos wondered as he gazed around the empty house, where did that leave them?

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

ITWASTWILIGHTwhen Mia slipped back into the hacienda, her body aching, her eyes gritty, and yet her heart surprisingly at peace. She’d made her decision.

The house was dark and quiet, almost eerily so, and she felt a stirring of unease and guilt. She’d been gone a long time, she realised, at least four or five hours. She’d missed dinner, with its five interminable courses and his mother’s cool-eyed gaze watching her every move. To be fair, she wasn’t sorry she’d missed that, especially in light of what Santos’s mother had proposed this afternoon—a divorce. But Santos must have wondered where she’d gone. Would he be angry?

The floor creaked as she headed towards the stairs, feeling more uneasy by the second at howemptyeverything seemed. The hacienda was huge, it was true, but there was no sign of life anywhere, neither family nor staff. Then she saw a sliver of light from the door to one of the many reception rooms which had been left slightly ajar. After a few seconds’ hesitation, Mia tiptoed towards the door and peeked into the room, with its leather sofas and chairs, heavy, dark furniture and big stone fireplace.

Santos was there, slumped in an arm chair by the French doors that led out to one of the many terraces, an empty tumbler dangling from his slack fingertips. His head rested on the back of the chair and his eyes were closed. He looked exhausted, but worse, he looked despairing. Mia’s heart clenched with love and fear. She shouldn’t have left for as long as she had. But she’d needed the time to get her own head—and heart—straight.

She stepped into the room. He didn’t stir.

‘Santos,’ she called softly, her heart full of love for this beautiful, proud but humble man. After what felt like an age, his eyes fluttered open. He blinked several times and then his golden-brown gaze trained on her, as focused as a laser. His lips twisted in a way that made Mia catch her breath.

‘You’re back.’ He did not sound pleased, or even relieved. The words came out flat, toneless, and inwardly she shrivelled.

‘Yes.’ Mia hitched her old backpack higher on her shoulder. ‘I’m sorry I was gone for so long.’

Santos’s gaze flicked to the mantle clock and then back again. ‘Six hours.’

Longer than she’d realised, then. ‘I’m sorry,’ Mia said again. ‘Truly, Santos.’

‘Are you, though, Mia?’ Santos asked. He rose from his chair in one sinuous movement, stalking to the drinks table in the corner of the room where he poured himself two fingers’ worth of whisky and tossed it down in one gulp. ‘Are you really?’

‘Santos...’ Mia had no idea what to say. ‘Yes, I am. I... I needed some space to think. After...’ She paused and swallowed. ‘Are you angry?’

‘No.’ He put down the glass and then turned to face her, his arms folded, his expression foreboding. ‘I was angry at the start, I admit. I realised you’d overheard my conversation with my mother and predictably drawn all the wrong conclusions.’

‘Had I, though?’ Mia challenged quietly, parroting a semblance of his earlier words back to him. ‘She asked you to end our marriage, Santos. You...you paused, like you were thinking about it. You didn’t say no, at any rate.’ She hadn’t meant to lead with that, but those seconds of silence hadhurt. They still did.

‘I was shocked by what she was suggesting, Mia,’ Santos replied evenly. ‘It took me a moment to absorb. And yes, I admit, I thought about it for a second—but notthen.’ His gaze blazed at her, a furnace of pain. ‘I thought about it a few minutes later when you left—again.’

Mia’s mouth opened and closed and she took a step towards him. ‘Santos, I wasn’t—’

‘Don’tlie to me,’ he cut her off, and now he sounded lethal and coldly furious. Mia didn’t think, through all their difficulties, that she’d ever heard him sound like that before, and it scared her. She’d expected him to be worried, yes, annoyed as well, butthis?

‘After all we’ve gone through,’ he continued in that same cold voice, ‘All we’ve tried to overcome... Don’t lie to me, Mia.’ His voice caught and then broke, the fury gone, revealing the pain pulsing underneath, making Mia’s heart ache and her throat tighten with unshed tears. ‘You took your backpack,’ he explained as he closed his eyes briefly, his voice a jagged splinter of sound. He opened his eyes to stare at her bleakly. ‘That’s how I knew.’

‘Santos, I’m sorry.’ She could barely get the words out. Tears crowded her eyes, and she blinked them back.

‘Were you going to leave?’

Mia knew she needed to be completely honest with him, as he’d been with her. ‘I... I thought about it,’ she admitted in a low voice. ‘Like you, for asecond. I was—I was scared, Santos, as well as hurt, by what I’d overheard. And, like I told you, running is my gut instinct, my kneejerk response. But I didn’t get very far, not even to the front door, before I realised that wasn’t what I wanted.’

‘What did you want, then?’ Santos asked, his voice still toneless, as if he didn’t really care very much about the answer. ‘And why did you still go, then?’

Mia decided to answer the second question first. ‘I went because I needed to clear my head.’

‘For six hours?’

‘Santos, please, listen,’ she begged. ‘I know I shouldn’t have gone for so long, and I am truly sorry. But it really threw me, what your mother said, and also howIhad responded. Not you, but me—how quickly I felt that I needed to run. I scaredmyself, Santos; that’s what I’m trying to say.’

For the first time since she’d come into the room, she saw a flicker of interest in his eyes, a spark of understanding and maybe even compassion. ‘And?’ he asked quietly.

---