Page 155 of Modern Romance January 2025 1-4

But there was Sebastian. She’d promised to let him know. Should she do so immediately? It seemed wrong for her to have this information, and for him not to, and yet they were scheduled to see one another the following night at the ball to commemorate the closing of parliament for the holidays.

Should she wait until then?

And risk the moment being overheard or photographed?

No, she would tell him now, and she would keep it just as brusque and businesslike as befitted their relationship. Not the relationship they’d shared on the island. There, she’d have walked straight up to him and let him wrap his big, strong arms around her, holding her tight while she gave into a flood of disappointed tears. But here, they were not like that, and it was obviously how he wanted things to stay.

So much for new beginnings.

She picked up her phone and loaded a text message box. She began to type before she could reconsider the wisdom of this.

Hi.

She considered what to add. His phone was private, but there was always a risk, when putting things in writing, and so she wrote:

I said I’d let you know about our project. The answer is no.

She re-read it, hoping it was both cryptic but informative, and then sent it. And cried, because it made it all the more real.

She’d gone from desperately not wanting to ever conceive to suddenly feeling as though it were her purpose in life. She stamped her foot and stared up at the ceiling for a long time, waiting for the feeling to ease, but it didn’t. A strange, heavy grief was pressing down on her. She knew it was irrational. They’d only tried for one month, and of course these things could take much, much longer. But she’d wanted, with all her heart, she’d wanted...

She lay down on her bed, glad she was alone, glad she could just stare up at the ceiling and alternate between utter silence and gentle sobs. She pressed a hand to her flat stomach, and tried to imagine it growing round, feeling all the things her mother had, once upon a time. An hour later, sometime near dusk, her door burst open in a manner that was totally surprising—no one ever simply burst into her apartment. On the contrary, one of her private secretaries always knocked first and announced visitors, in case Rosie wasn’t available. But this was not an ordinary visitor. Sebastian stood just inside the door, an out of breath Laurena behind him, mouthing apologies.

Neither Sebastian nor Rosie noticed Laurena, and she backed away, closing the door behind her.

Rosie scrambled to sitting and then stood, straightening her outfit and mentally bemoaning her appearance. She must look dreadful.

But Sebastian was staring at her in a way that made everything all scrambled and confusing, just as he always did.

‘I didn’t see your message immediately,’ he said with a voice that was a little different than normal. ‘I came as soon as I read it.’

Her heart turned over. ‘You didn’t need to come here.’ She was trying to be professional, to be reserved, just like she always had been with her husband, before the island.

He frowned. ‘You’re upset.’

A sound strangled inside her throat. ‘Yes.’ Why deny it?

His eyes lashed her face. She wanted to hide.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, striding towards her, and stopping just short, not touching her.

‘Why? What for?’

He frowned, as though he didn’t know. ‘We’ll try again.’

She knew they would, but it would be different. She’d somehow fooled herself into thinking, on the island, that they’d been doing more than trying for a baby. That she’d meant more to him. This week had proved how wrong she’d been. How little he cared. How little she meant. The pain of that truth was instantly familiar. No one cared about her. Only the king, and even then...

She tilted her chin in an angle of defiance. ‘I know that.’

‘We can go back to the island, in a few weeks.’

She shook her head. Not the island. It was too magical. Too beautiful. On the island, she forgot. She forgot all the reasons she had for keeping him at arm’s length, everything that could go wrong if she let herself want more from him than he’d ever give.

‘We don’t have to do that.’

His eyes flecked with something; she didn’t bother trying to understand. Her heart was tattered.

‘This might take months. Maybe even a year. We can’t fly to the island every time we try.’

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