Page 206 of Modern Romance Collection February 2025, 5-8

‘Are you all right?’ he asked.

‘It’s you,’ his mother said. ‘Marianne said you were probably pacing outside, wondering what we were talking about.’

It seemed a fair question to ask from Dom’s point of view, even though apparently it was amusing to the women.

‘Oh, we had a lovely visit. Marianne and I have so much in common.’

Alarm bells went off in Dominico’s mind.

‘Oh? Like what?’

She patted his hand. ‘Girl business, you know.’

Dom didn’t know. He had no clue.

‘But I’m so sorry I made her cry. Please apologise for me.’

And suddenly the smudge under Mari’s eye made some kind of sense.

‘What did you say to make her cry?’

‘I made her remember something sad. It was thoughtless of me. Now, how are you getting on with the plans for the party?’

He spent the next ten minutes getting answers to all the questions the party planners had asked him. His mother reeled everything off as if it were the easiest thing in the world, which made a kind of sense seeing she’d spent a lifetime organising events from parties to gallery openings to festivals, leaving him wondering why she’d tasked him with the project in the first place.

But by the end of it he even had a half decent guest list.

‘Now,’ he said. ‘We have to talk about dates. When would you like the party?’ There was no point telling his mother the sooner the better, she knew that.

‘What’s today?’ she asked.

‘Wednesday,’ he said.

‘How about Saturday?’

‘This week?’

‘Are you busy this Saturday?’

‘No. I’m not busy. But other people might be.’

‘Then Saturday it is. And if that’s all, please send my nurse in. It’s time for my pain relief.’

‘Is it bad?’ he asked.

‘It comes and goes. And then it comes and comes. But don’t worry, she’ll make it better.’

‘Oh, Mamá,’ he said, leaning over again to kiss her on the cheek. ‘I’ll send her right in.’

* * *

The light was leaching from the sky by the time they headed back to Dom’s apartment. Marianne sat quietly and he wondered if her mood had anything to do with her conversation with his mother. In the car, curiosity got the better of him. ‘What did my mother say to make you cry?’

‘She told you that?’

‘She said to apologise to you. What did she say?’

‘Oh,’ Mari said, her head swinging away from him, her attention suddenly taken by something they were passing in the street, something he’d obviously missed. ‘She was talking about you and explaining why you’re so important to her. She told me about the miscarriages she suffered before she managed to have you.’

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