Page 112 of Modern Romance Collection February 2025, 1-4

In her little office? Hardly anyone came here. She always went out to meet people. It was a perfectly serviceable office, but it wasn’t all that interesting or sexy. It was in a building full of offices on the upper east side. Her window overlooked a tiny corner of Central Park that could just be spotted between two blocks.

‘Who is it?’

She tried to make her sluggish brain work. Was there something she’d missed in her diary?

‘It’s Primo...your husband.’

For a second Faye’s hearing and senses went. She felt as if she was under water, with everything muffled and sounding distorted. Mark was frowning, coming towards her. She waved her hands, sucked in breath. Came up for air.

She could do this. He was probably just here to discuss the divorce... But surely he could have done that through his lawyers?

‘It’s okay,’ she said. ‘Send him in.’

Because, pathetically, even when she knew he must despise her, Faye wanted to just look at him. Breathe the same air.

Mark went out and a few seconds later Primo appeared, sucking all the air and light out of the room. Faye would have stood up, but her legs felt like jelly.

He was holding something wrapped in brown paper and he put it down against a wall. He was dressed in a three-piece suit. He looked... She frowned. He looked tired. A little of his golden aura slightly dimmed. She blinked. No, he was still gorgeous. She was imagining things.

She forced her legs to work and stood up. ‘Primo.’

He didn’t come any closer. ‘Faye. You look...’

She didn’t want to know that she looked tired too. She felt tired, in a bone-deep existential way that she’d never experienced before. And yet, in spite of her heartbreak, she also felt a measure of peace, after finally unburdening herself. Not that Primo would thank her for that.

‘Are you here to talk about the divorce?’ she asked.

‘No.’

She looked at him.

‘But I am here to talk.’ He started to pace. ‘You see, the thing is, Faye, you shocked me in São Paulo... I had no idea what you’d been through.’ He stopped and looked at her. ‘That was horrific. I can’t imagine what it must be like, at the very start of your young life, to be told that something as fundamental and basic as having a child is to be taken away from you.’

Faye sat down again, her legs giving way. ‘It was...one of the worst days of my life.’

Primo paced again. ‘And then, instead of supporting you, your husband turned his back.’

‘Yes.’

He stopped. Looked at her. ‘He made no attempt to understand it? To make you feel better?’

Faye stood up again. She couldn’t wilt like this. She came around her desk but stayed close to it.

‘No. Look, Primo, are you here to remind me of what happened as some kind of punishment? Because if you are, it’s working...and, believe me, it’s not as if these memories are ever that far from my mind.’

He looked at her, and his face was stark with something she couldn’t interpret. It made her broken in pieces heart pulsate a little.

‘No, I’m no..., I’m sorry... I just had to try and piece together what happened...’

She had to know. She could already feel the treacherous sprouting of hope. ‘Why are you here?’

He looked at her, his eyes very blue. ‘Because I’m not prepared to give up so easily. You thought that I’d fall at that hurdle? Just because your first husband did?’

Faye looked at Primo and remembered those moments when he’d joked about winning, not quitting.

‘This isn’t a game, Primo. You don’t have to try and beat him. If it’s any consolation, he really didn’t turn out to be all that great. I believe he’s on wife number three, and he’s locked in bitter custody battles to see his children from the first two marriages.’

Primo waved a hand. ‘I’m not trying to beat him—he’s a fool. I’m just saying that having children can happen in so many ways.’

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