Page 121 of Modern Romance May 2026 Books 5-8
“His great ass.”
I laugh through my tears. “Mom!”
“What? I’m in my fifties, not dead.” Her smile dims as she watches me. “You made the right choice.”
“I did.” I stare down at the lemon peel curled inside my glass. “His upbringing, Mom, was…it was awful.” I want to tell her everything, but it’s not my story to tell. “He’s not like Brett. He respects me and he’s so intelligent. I didn’t realize how much he’s tried to give back, how much he’s supported his brother, and I… I…”
“And you love him,” Mom repeats softly.
“I do,” I choke out. “I do, but he doesn’t love me back. He cares for me, and God, I want that to be enough.”
“But the fact that it’s not, Sera, shows how much you’ve grown. Matured.”
I suck in a shuddering breath. “Does it? Or does it mean I’m not giving him the time and patience he needs to come around?”
“Unfortunately, that’s only a question he can answer.”
Slowly, I nod. “I’m afraid the answer is no.”
“And it might be, darling.” Mom stands, circles the table and sits next to me, wrapping her arms around me. “I hope for your sake, and his, he comes around. But whether he does or not, you stood up for yourself.”
Tears pour down my cheeks. “What I felt for Brett those first few months we dated is nothing compared to what I feel for Aiden. It’s not just lust or desire or some superficial emotion. Aiden supports me, makes me feel…seen. It terrified me at first, but the more time I spent with him, the more I…”
The tears finally overwhelm me. Claim what little control I managed to scrounge over the last few days.
“I love him, Mom.” I suck in another shuddering breath. “I love him so much. But he can’t let himself love me.”
“Then he’s an idiot.” Mom holds up a hand as I start to protest. “I respect him for being honest with you, Sera. He could have very easily lied, but he did the honorable thing. I call him an idiot because I suspect he cares far more than he’s willing to accept.”
I nod. “He told me he cares for me. And that’s one of the hardest parts. For him, that’s huge. Astronomical. But I want…”
“You want love.” Mom brushes a calming hand over my hair. “And you deserve it. You don’t have to accept what he offers just because it’s all he has to give.”
“I want children, Mom.” Her arms tense around me. “Even if I could give him time to figure out the emotional baggage he lugs around, he doesn’t want kids.” My voice breaks again. “I won’t sacrifice that.”
She kisses my forehead and hugs me tighter. “I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks.” I choke out a watery laugh. “Maybe one day I’ll be proud of me, too.”
Aiden
I stare at the email on my computer screen. The one that came this morning and tanked my already horrendous mood.
When I saw her email address, hope flared inside me. Hope that rapidly evaporated when I read the subject line:Resignation Notice.
I glance at the paper on my desk. A printed copy of the job write-up I had one of the other secretaries do this morning, one I could trust to be discreet. It should be posted now. My calendar is filled for the next four weeks solid. Without Seraphina here to oversee all the duties and tasks she took care of, I’m anticipating at least seventy hours this week to make sure everything gets completed.
Not that that’s a bad thing. It’s kept me focused on moving forward instead of dwelling on the look on Seraphina’s face right after we made love that final time, the cold weight of her ring in my hand as she walked out the door.
I minimize her email and pull up another file. When I haven’t been working, I’ve been swimming. Back and forth, back and forth, going straight for an ice-cold shower when I get out. If I stop to think for one second, I can see her as if she’s there in front of me, those gorgeous lips parted on a moan as I knelt between her legs on the balcony and tasted her for the first time—
Damn.
I push away from my desk and start to pace. It hasn’t even been two days. I just need time. It hurts now, sure. But it’ll pass.
It has to.
Except as I stare out the wall of windows in my office, I know it won’t fully pass. It will linger, flare at the worst possible moments, just like memories of Mom and David do.
