Page 207 of Modern Romance Collection February 2025, 5-8

‘And that’s what made you cry?’ Her story didn’t match up with what his mother had said. She’d said she had made Marianne remember something sad.

Her head swung back, an expression on her face he couldn’t read, a flash of defiance in her eyes and—something else—something that looked entirely more defensive. ‘Don’t you think it’s tragic?’

‘It’s sad, but it doesn’t seem like the kind of thing that would reduce you to tears.’

‘Don’t you wish you had family? Brothers and sisters, I mean.’

He shrugged. ‘It’s hard to miss what you don’t know.’

She nodded and turned her head away again. She looked like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders.

He watched her a while, waiting for her to turn back around, but she kept her gaze fixed out of the window as if she didn’t want to engage with him. Definitely defensive. There was more to the story of her tears than she was letting on.

But‘girl business’his mother had said.

Maybe he didn’t want to know.

His phone pinged. It was good news. The Australian takeover was all but through the governmental jumps and hoops, the Brazilian deal was moving apace, and without needing his intervention. Which was good news, because he had more than enough to deal with here.

Frankly, his mother was enough to deal with. Right now, her needs were foremost. But then there was Marianne, who couldn’t help but challenge him at every turn.

He looked back at Marianne, who was still staring fixedly out of her window. Her silence annoyed him. What was she hiding? He was growing sick of her secrets.

And then he found an opening. She’d been the one who had brought up the subject of brothers and sisters after all.

‘So,’ he asked, ‘as someone who doesn’t know, tell me—what’s it like having a sibling? I seem to remember you having a younger sister. I can’t recall her name.’

Her head swung around. She took a moment before she answered, as if she was wondering whether she even wanted to. ‘Suzanne.’

He wasn’t sure why she sounded so defensive. ‘And what’s it like having a sister?’ he coaxed.

She licked her lips before turning her head to stare out of her window again. ‘It’s good. She’s my best friend.’

‘Do you see a lot of each other?’

‘We do.’

‘She doesn’t live in Sydney then?’

‘She lives in Melbourne now.’

Dom stared at the back of her head. So much for making conversation. It was like trying to extract honey from a brick.

‘Is she married? Does she have any kids? Do you have any nephews or nieces?’

‘No,’ she said, suddenly turning back. ‘Is that it? Are we done?’

‘What’s wrong, Marianne?’

At first she said nothing, her back straight, head held rigid.

‘Marianne?’

Her shoulders slumped on a sigh. ‘Sorry, I’m a bit distracted. I guess there’s no harm in telling you. Seven or so years ago Suzanne was engaged to be married. Everything was set. And then she was diagnosed with early onset multiple sclerosis. Her fiancé, instead of supporting her, decided that he didn’t want to be “lumbered with a cripple”—his words, said to Suzanne’s face—and that was it, the wedding was off. We didn’t see him for dust.’

‘He was a creep. He didn’t deserve her.’

‘So we discovered.’

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