Page 63 of On His Bride's Terms

Primo said, ‘I do love you. And, yes, I would like us to try and create a family. Because you’re the one who has broken me apart and made me want things I never thought I wanted. A whole life, Faye. Not half a life.’

But the truth was that it might only ever be half a life. Faye could see into a future where in spite of everything she and Primo couldn’t create that family. She saw how their desire would wane and how empty their lives would become. How he would realise that he didn’t love her. And then he would blame her for being empty, useless, like her first husband had. And he would walk away and leave her like a piece of unwanted baggage. And even though she now knew she was enough, she knew she would not survive Primo’s rejection.

She was barely surviving now, but in time she might just be able to claw back some sense of herself again.

And who’s that?asked a small voice.A woman skirting around the edges of life in case it hurts her?

She shook her head, hands gripping the back of her chair like claws. ‘I can’t, Primo. Iwon’t.’

‘Do you love me, Faye?’

Her heart beat out the answer.

Of course. Yes. For ever.

But she couldn’t speak. This was the last bastion of any kind of defence.

‘Don’t make me say it,’ she pleaded.

Because he knew. Of course he did.

He backed away to the door.

He said, ‘I won’t. For now. But it’s there, Faye, and you can try and hide from it, or deny it, but it’s futile. There are no guarantees of anything in life and, yes, I think after realising that I want to try for a family, and the kind of life I never knew, it would be disappointing if it didn’t work out. But all of that is secondary to the fact that without you none of it is even worth trying for. I’m not your first husband, Faye. I’m me, Primo, and I deserve the chance to show you how much I love you. For you, alone.’

When Primo was gone, Faye deflated like a balloon. She saw the packaged item he’d brought and went over and picked it up. She took off the paper. It was the Lara Lopez painting.

Faye put it up on a shelf and looked at it. It got her right in the gut. It was all there in its messiness. Life. All the pain and heartache and agony and tumult. But also the energy and the never-endinghopethat made people get up every day and believe in something outside of themselves. And finally she saw it for the first time.Love. Big and terrifying and loud and potentially heartbreaking. But it was there. Like a beating heart. Never giving up. Hoping. Striving. Failing. Getting up and trying again. Doing better.Trusting.

She loved Primo. More than anything. More than her fear that he would walk away one day because she couldn’t deliver him a child.

There was a knock on the door and she turned around, heart slamming against her ribcage. Just as she was thinking it couldn’t be Primo, because he wouldn’t knock, her assistant appeared and handed her a note.

‘Primo wrote this just before he left and told me to give it to you.’

The paper was folded over and Faye opened it.

You’re braver than this.

I love you.

P (Your husband)

That evening, Primo sat at a dining table with three other men in one of Manhattan’s most exclusive restaurants. And he was bored silly. How had he put up with this for so long? He wanted to loosen his tie. Throw off his jacket. Upend the table. Smash plates and glasses. Demand that everyone see and acknowledge the pain he was in. The pain of loving a woman who had been so hurt by her past that—

His phone vibrated in his pocket and he took it out.

A text.

From Faye.

Primo felt like a teenager as excitement surged in his blood.

You’re right. I am brave.

Primo tipped his head back and sent thanks to every god that existed. He texted:

You’re braver than anyone I know.

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