Page 197 of Modern Romance Collection February 2025, 5-8

Oh, my.The earrings with their stunning Edwardian design perfectly complemented her minimalist gown, the faces of the rose cut diamonds glittering in the light. ‘They’re beautiful.’

‘As are you,’ he said, his voice sounding deeper. He coughed, as if clearing the army of frogs that had taken residence in his throat. He held out his arm and passed her the ribbon-wrapped bunch of roses that was her bouquet. ‘Are you ready?’

They created quite the stir as they made their way to the East Chapel. Guests parted and made way for them, the women beaming and clutching hands to their chests, everyone offering good wishes and congratulations. If only they knew, thought Mari.

‘Look at the bride,’ a young girl said as they passed. ‘She’s so pretty.’

‘Uh-huh,’ the mother said, and Mari smiled because the mother’s eyes were firmly fixed on Dom.

The good wishes followed them all the way to the chapel where the formalities took just a moment before they were in the chapel proper. A smallish room, high-ceilinged with chandelier lighting, panelled walls and gold curtains half opened over tall arched windows to let in more light. The pews were decorated in antique gold, the carpet in rich burgundy and gold swirls adding a richness to the decor. Flowers decorated the ends of the pews, their one hired witness sitting waiting.

Mari felt a sudden flutter of nerves. Focusing on the details—the dressing, the hair and make-up—had taken her mind off what was happening. But this was it. Pretend or no, she was about to walk down that aisle and marry Dominico Estefan. Once upon a time she’d dreamed of this moment. She’d dreamed night after night that it would happen. Until her dreams had turned to nightmares and her world had collapsed.

And yet, twenty years later, here she was, in a wedding chapel halfway around the world marrying the man she’d once most wanted to, the same man she least wanted to now.

The man who’d been the father of her babies. The man waiting at the altar with the celebrant. The man who looked like he half wanted this marriage for real. The man who had gifted her diamond earrings as if he wasn’t already paying her enough. Why the kindness? Why a gift that she didn’t deserve? It was impossible to read him. She knew he just wanted this done and to be over. He wanted to get back to Spain and show his mother that her dying wish had been fulfilled. That she didn’t have to worry about him any more. That was all he wanted.

But he was waiting right now to marryher.

The past collided with the present and it was too much.

Halfway down the aisle her steps faltered. A sound like a sob escaped her mouth, two fat tears escaped from her eyes and ran down her cheeks.

And the man waiting for her frowned and took a faltering step towards her. ‘Are you all right?’

She sniffed and nodded, regaining her composure, and forced her feet to resume their journey.

‘You’re crying,’ he said, his eyes searching her face.

‘I’m okay,’ she said.

But then he touched the pads of his thumbs to her cheeks to sweep the tears away. She closed her eyes as his thumbs glided across her skin. She couldn’t look at him in case he saw what was in her mind, all because of a touch that reminded her of how he’d once treated her: like she was the most precious object in the world.

A touch so gentle that her breath hitched, and she almost came undone again.

Because it was wrong. It was cruel. It was so unfair of him to hurl her back to thebefore, when everything had been perfect between them, when she needed to focus on theafter. She so desperately needed to remember the after.

She opened her eyes to see him looking down at her, his brow creased, as if he actually cared.

‘Okay now?’

‘I’m fine,’ she said, even though she felt a long way from fine.

‘In that case,’ said the celebrant, ‘perhaps we might proceed.’

There was talk of the meaning of marriage, the question of intent and then it was time for the vows and the rings to be exchanged, before the final pronouncement came. Dominico and Mari were married. It had taken longer than twenty years to happen and yet the ceremony had lasted less than fifteen minutes.

‘You may kiss the bride,’ the celebrant invited.

This was the part Mari was dreading. He’d kissed her until she was boneless at the restaurant. She couldn’t afford for him to have that kind of power over her, and yet…

And yet part of her wanted to feel that magic of being swept away again. Nobody had made her feel that way after Dom and it had been so long. Why wouldn’t her traitorous body respond? Dom’s kiss was like a drug she knew she shouldn’t take, and yet she couldn’t stop herself.

She braced herself for the onslaught of his lips. But what met hers was softness, tender and sweet and infused with the scent of his skin and the taste of his breath. He didn’t rush, he didn’t pull away early, he lingered, his tongue gently sweeping the line of her lips as his fingers stroked her bare back. And if anything, it was more impactful than the kiss he’d given her in the restaurant, when he’d taken her unawares and ramraided through her defences.

This kiss was bittersweet and poignant.

This kiss was perfection.

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