Page 6 of Modern Romance May 2026 Books 5-8
‘It’s mine. Not that it’s any of your business.’
‘It is if you’re committing bigamy.’
Her pulse thudded in her throat. She stared at him in disbelief.
Had he erased their disastrous marriage from his brain? Did he really think she could just pick out a new life with some other man and carry on living it concurrently with this one? ‘You have to be joking. The last thing on my mind is another trip down the aisle, even with the added thrill of breaking the law at the same time. But given that you’ve managed to track me down, I’m guessing you already know I’m not committing bigamy. How did you find me, by the way?’
He shrugged, and it was annoying on so many levels that he was the only person who could lift his shoulders like that without looking like some sulky adolescent.
‘Everyone can be found, Dulcie. It’s not that hard.’
Could they? She felt a pang of guilt. After she’d found that correspondence between her father and the Children and Family Court Advisory and Support Service, and realised that Oscar had been in care, she had tried to find him. But for her, at least, it had been a frustrating and time-consuming process.
Hating him for instantly and unknowingly diminishing her, she scowled. ‘You know what else isn’t hard? Crawling back under whatever rock you’ve been living under.’
Ettore’s eyes narrowed, and she felt the provocation of that remark ripple through him and beyond him into the sunlit street. But he didn’t lose his temper. Instead, he stared at her assessingly, as if she were a painting he was thinking about buying.
‘You have a choice.’ His tone was pleasant but there was no mistaking the steel and warning in his voice. ‘We can stand here trading childish insults or we can go somewhere more private and talk like adults.’
‘If you came here to talk, you’ve wasted your time,’ she said, breezily, her gaze fixed on the door to the street outside, and freedom from Ettore and his unexpected, unwelcome presence. ‘There’s nothing to talk about because, as far as I’m concerned, nothing has changed since we last met.’ She sidestepped past him and pushed open the door, blinking into the sunlight.
In relation to their marriage, that was true. But some things had changed. She had bought a new house, a tiny two-up two-down that the estate agent had called a ‘doer-upper’. So far, she had not done much to it other than paint the walls, but it had its own front door and a garden. On a less positive note, she had lost her job and become a nun, albeit unofficially.
‘You’re right. It hasn’t.’
Ettore was walking beside her now, matching his stride to hers, and she wanted to scream but Oscar had already been given a warning for causing a disturbance. The last thing he needed was for his sister to end up at the police station too.
‘Do you mind?’ She spun round to face him and instantly regretted it because it hurt, it hurt in a visceral way to look at him.
‘We’re still husband and wife.’
The tight focus of his gaze made her feel suddenly breathless, and then poundingly furious with herself for being so susceptible to what she knew better than anyone was just words.
They were husband and wife. She knew that, obviously, and yet hearing him say it out loud in this narrow, high-walled street within earshot of several complete strangers made her feel suddenly light-headed.
Easing back into the shadows of the college wall, she pressed her hand casually against the cool stone to steady herself and then shrugged.
‘We’re separated. We’ve been separated for two years.’
‘Which is why I want to talk to you about our marriage.’
For a moment she couldn’t breathe.
So that was why he was here. He wanted a divorce. And why would he want a divorce? She could think of only one reason, and despite herself, despite how badly she wanted not to care, the knowledge that Ettore had found someone else, someone to take her place, made a lump of misery swell in her throat.
If only she had got her act together and ambushed him on some Italian side street. Catching him off guard and making him feel small and stupid and superfluous. He had walked out of her life two years ago. So, why hadn’t she done so?
Why hadn’t she tracked him down and demanded a divorce?
Her throat tightened. It was a simple enough question, but the answer was a little more complicated.
At first, his leaving hadn’t felt real. Shock had paralysed her. Then she’d waited, hoping, yearning for him to get in touch. Which of course he hadn’t. Hope had faded, to be replaced by an anger and a despair that had scared her with their intensity and magnitude and so she had buried her feelings, buried the past. Which was easier than it sounded because nobody knew she was married, not even Oscar.
Now though, Ettore had turned up with a spade and started digging.
‘If by talking about our marriage, you mean ending it, you could have just emailed. I would have got around to it myself sooner or later, but our marriage was over so quickly I forgot all about it.’
He didn’t like that, she thought, watching his eyes narrow, but, hey, cry me a river and screw him.
