Page 217 of Modern Romance Collection February 2025, 5-8

‘When do you think Rosaria’s funeral might happen?’

‘Will, not might. The chapel is booked for two days’ time.’

Mari closed her eyes and gave thanks. Soon then. That at least was some kind of relief.

‘I’ll stay.’ She turned then to face him. ‘But then I will hold you to our contract. I will be leaving.’ Adding a moment later, ‘Suzanne needs me.’

Dominico made it through the next forty-eight hours running on a mix of grief, strong coffee and a goodly dose of Destilerías y Crianza del Whisky. He wasn’t seeing things clearly, he knew that, but he didn’t understand Marianne’s resistance to him. He didn’t understand her urgency to get away from him. He’d kept her away from her precious sister less than two weeks and, despite the words they’d had at the start, she couldn’t pretend she hadn’t enjoyed the time they’d spent together.

At one time he’d even imagined they could turn this arrangement into something more permanent. But if she was so determined to get away, clearly, he’d misread the situation. If she had a problem with being with him, so be it. He wouldn’t impose himself upon her again.

But at least she’d agreed to stay for the funeral. At least he wouldn’t have to field endless questions as to her whereabouts. It would be bad enough after the funeral, when he appeared in public without Marianne on his arm.

Then again, theirs wouldn’t be the shortest marriage in history. The questions and gossip would soon die down.

And yet still he had the sense that he was missing something, but his brain was too full of grief, strong coffee and whisky to work out what it was.

Mari stood alone in the funerary chapel clutching her glass of sparkling water. The funeral had been poignant but wonderful, a true celebration of Rosaria’s life, and now Dom was busy doing the rounds of the guests, something he seemed content to do without her. So perfectly content that she wondered why he’d insisted on her being here at all.

He hadn’t made a move on her since she’d told him she was leaving, even though they still shared the same bed. It was as if, as far as Dom was concerned, she’d already left. And while part of her mourned the loss of his touch, another part of her was grateful. He wasn’t making it harder for her to leave. She was merely here at the funeral to avoid any uncomfortable questions. So be it. For her own part, she was here to pay her respects to Rosaria, and she was glad she’d stayed. She was heading home tomorrow. She could hardly wait to get away from the endless tension of being in Dom’s orbit.

‘Señora Estefan…’ said a man beside her. Rosaria’s physician, she realised. He shook her hand. ‘Such a beautiful service,’ he said.

‘Rosaria deserved it,’ Mari said.

‘She died smiling,’ he said. ‘Did Dominico share that with you?’

Mari smiled. ‘He did. It warmed my heart to hear it.’

‘You know, when Dominico assured his mother that he was getting married, I didn’t quite believe it. I thought he was telling her that merely to make his mother happy. But then, barely a week later, you appeared by his side, and I can see now that he was speaking the truth. I’m so sorry I doubted him. You both did so much to make Rosaria happy in her final days. Thank you for that. My condolences to you.’

He bowed and excused himself. And Mari thought then that it was true. She and Dom had convinced the entire world that they were destined to be together. The pity of it was, the only people they’d failed once again to convince was themselves.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

MARI HAD SAIDthat she was perfectly fine taking commercial flights to get home to Melbourne. Dom, however, had insisted that she take his private jet, he wouldn’t be using it. A dig, because he’d be busy mopping up after his mother’s funeral, of course.

A private jet was even more private when you were the only passenger on the plane. Twenty-something hours on a flight gave a person way too much time to think, even with the real estate searches and property inspections she was planning when she got home, even with the necessary sleep time. And who needed a film when twenty-something hours on a flight gave a person way too much time to replay every detail of every scene that she had shared with Dom?

Dom had been so cold to her the last two days, but she’d done the right thing, she knew. The longer she’d stayed, the more of a mess she would have been when he’d discarded her again.

She’d done the right thing.

But she didn’t understand why doing the right thing hurt so much.

Melbourne’s weather was doing what Melbourne’s weather did best. Change. A day after her return home, Mari had swapped sunglasses for umbrella and back to sunglasses before a sudden gust of wind had almost torn them off her face. She knocked on Suzanne’s door. Valerie opened it.

‘You’re back,’ Valerie said, giving Mari a hug as she entered. ‘How was the trip?’

Mari wasn’t sure how much Suzanne had shared with her carer. ‘Productive,’ she said vaguely. ‘And I’ve found some promising properties to take a look at. If Suzanne isn’t up to visiting, maybe you’d like to come along with me?’ She looked around. ‘Where is Suzanne?’

‘Here!’ her sister said, beaming as she negotiated her wheelchair around the corner from the kitchen. ‘I just put the kettle on.’

Mari rushed over, leant over and buried her head in her sister’s neck. ‘It’s so good to see you,’ she said.

‘Hey,’ Suzanne said, ‘you’ve only been gone a fortnight or so. Anyone would think you’d been away a lifetime.’

‘It felt like it.’ A lifetime of revisiting her past. A lifetime of discovery. All packed into the blur of a few short weeks. She tried to push back the tears that threatened to launch themselves upon her unsuspecting sister.

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