Page 102 of Modern Romance Collection February 2025, 1-4

Suddenly overwhelmed by everything—her revelation and this gesture—Faye said hurriedly, ‘No, not at all. You really don’t have to babysit me.’

Primo was about to leave when he turned back. ‘You’ll still be here when I get back?’

Faye tried to think of some pithy remark but in the end she just nodded. ‘Yes, I’ll be here.’

Primo walked out and Faye sank back onto the couch and gazed at the painting. There, laid bare, was every pulsing, beating bit of emotion she felt for Primo. But Faye knew that, as much as he would prefer her to be absorbed into his world, like an amenable wife, he wouldn’t thank her for falling in love with him.

Primo came back to his apartment that evening and all was quiet. Marjorie would be gone for the day. For a second he imagined that Faye might be gone too, even though she’d said she wouldn’t.

The surge of conflicting emotions that thought brought up propelled him into the main living area. Empty. As was the kitchen. He checked her bedroom. The bed hadn’t been slept in all day. A good sign. But where was she?

Eventually he thought to check the media room and found her on the couch, asleep under a large shawl. Hair flowing around her head. Feet bare. One arm above her head. She was wearing the least enticing outfit imaginable, and yet Primo’s blood leapt.

She stirred, as if sensing him, and opened her eyes. She looked deliciously drowsy and flushed. For a second, he saw a slow smile start to lift that tempting mouth—before her brain obviously kicked into gear and her eyes widened and she scrambled to sit up. Back behind those walls.

He put out a hand. ‘Sorry I didn’t mean to wake you.’

She pushed hair out of her face. ‘What time is it?’

‘After eight. I got held up.’

She sent him a look. ‘Because you’ve been playing nursemaid to me, no doubt.’

‘I brought home some takeout.’

At that moment Faye’s belly rumbled. Her appetite was obviously back with a vengeance. She blushed. Primo marvelled that she could still blush so easily.

‘That sounds nice,’ she said. ‘What is it?’

He held out a hand and helped her up from the couch. He said, ‘Thai. Is that okay?’

‘I love Thai.’

They went into the kitchen and Faye sat on a stool on the other side of the counter to Primo, where he busied himself putting containers into the microwave to heat them up.

Faye said, ‘I wonder who’s in the Irish castle now? Are they having Irish stew too? Did they go on the beach with the horses?’

Primo ladled some rice and sauce into a bowl and handed it to Faye with cutlery. ‘You really loved that place, didn’t you?’ he observed.

Faye nodded. ‘Maybe my ancestry is Irish, not Scottish,’ she joked. And then, ‘I never go horse riding any more...it reminded me how much I loved it.’

‘Nothing stopping you from taking it up again.’

Faye sighed. ‘I guess not... But it’s just easy to forget to carve out time for those things, you know? And then, before you know it, years have gone by...’

‘Are you always so chipper after a bout of sickness?’

Faye sent Primo a sheepish look. ‘Sorry. I guess I haven’t had so much time off in a long time. I like to keep busy.’

Primo could empathise with that. Since marrying Faye, though, he’d taken more time off than he’d ever done before. He’d also—as he’d found out today—taken his eye off the ball to some extent. Deals had been languishing, waiting for his signature or decision.

His chief legal advisor had said, before leaving Primo’s office, ‘Maybe it’s time to start delegating? After all, you’re a married man now. Presumably you’ll be starting a family...’

Primo had realised that he’d arrogantly assumed that even while investing some time in his new wife he wouldn’t be letting anything slide, but he’d had to acknowledge that hadn’t been realistic. Faye was a priority now—in a way he hadn’t fully envisaged when he’d decided to marry her.

These last few days, while she’d been ill, he’d felt helpless. For a man who was rarely helpless, it had been an unwelcome and humbling experience. He’d had to watch as the virus worked its way through her system, not being able to negotiate with anyone for a speedier exit. And the relief he felt now, to see her return to health, was also humbling.

He liked having her here. And not just because she was his wife and he felt sheshouldbe here. There was an added dimension to coming home and knowing she would be around that he hadn’t really anticipated, and it transcended even the notion of being able to sleep with her every night. Although that obviously appealed too.

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