Page 115 of Modern Romance March 2025 (5-8)

I set my tea down. Lean over and give him one last lingering kiss on the cheek.

“It’s okay, Rafe.”

I grab my crutches and move to the stairs, ease my way down and go to the bow of the boat. I sit on one of the benches and gaze out over the sea. A few minutes later, the motors come to life and the boat moves out of the cove.

As we fly across the water, I know I’m doing the right thing. Respecting his choices, standing up for my own.

So why does it feel so wrong to be letting him go?

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Tessa

Three weeks later

ISIT ONmy balcony, my feet propped up on the railing as I watch night sweep over the city. Lights come on in the windows of the apartments across from me. The Eiffel Tower will be putting on its first show of the evening in just a few minutes. A glass of chardonnay sits at my elbow.

A perfect evening in Paris. A reward for an extremely long but productive day.

Too bad my chest still feels like a hollow pit.

I pick up my glass of wine. The recommendations Rafe made for Tessa’s Interiors have already paid off. I hired an assistant last week who has already earned her salary and will be getting a nice bonus at the end of the summer. Her assuming the administrative tasks has left me more time for my designs. I’m sticking to my proposed prices for Juliette’s house and an upcoming project for a London penthouse. But another new client, one I just signed a contract with yesterday, agreed to my new pricing.

And then there’s the addendum on my website. The one where I take on a limited number of clients a year who don’t have the funds or resources to afford my regular fees but need help the most. My ability to take on more clients with Veronica’s help, along with my higher fees, will help absorb the cost. So, too, will the partnerships I’m starting to develop with quality suppliers.

Business life is good. My limited personal life is, too. Yesterday was Katie and Nathan’s engagement party aboard a boat that cruised the Seine and gave awed guests jaw-dropping views of Paris at night.

I kept a smile pasted on my face most of the evening and offered up what I thought was an excellent toast to Nathan and Katie’s future happiness. I even managed to greet my parents and then keep my distance from them the rest of the evening. It didn’t stop my mother’s eyes from watching me like a hawk. Nor did it wipe the glower off my father’s face.

I inhale as somewhere a clock chimes. The lights of the Tower come to life, a distant sparkling gleam.

A knock sounds on my door. Too soft and tentative to be Rafe. Not that it would be him, I remind myself as I grab my crutches and get to my feet. For the first week, a foolish part of me held on to some distant hope that he might reach out. Might tell me that he wanted to change his mind.

Silence. Complete and utter silence. Which meant the next time I would hear from him would be in five months when he signed the divorce papers and officially ended our marriage.

With that cheery thought on my mind, I unlock the door without looking through the peephole.

And come face-to-face with my mother.

“Oh.”

She gives me a nervous smile. “Hello, Contessa.”

I wrinkle my nose at my full name. “Hi, Mom.”

She looks over my shoulder. “May I…? That is…”

Have I landed in an alternative universe? One where she’s asking to come in instead of just barging past me? Is this some sort of trap, or perhaps a bid to convince me to come home?

“Sure. Come in.” I step back and let her enter, closing and locking the door behind her.

She moves into the middle of the room, her eyes sweeping over the living space, the kitchen, the dining nook, the balcony and the Eiffel Tower. She turns in a circle, her eyes taking in the details like the mirror over the fireplace, the vase of pale blue flowers in the corner.

Flowers I bought that morning because they reminded me of a certain set of eyes.

God, I’m pathetic.

“It’s beautiful, Contessa.”

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