Page 113 of Modern Romance July 2025 #4-8

“She has a channel?” Since when?

“It’s the Davenwear Channel, but she’s on there with a hashtag LTLY Challenge.

” She drew the letters in the air with her finger.

“Learn to love yourself.” Faye tapped into her phone.

“It’s affirmations and self-care. Like, it’s really marketing for her clothes, but she makes it funny, too. This one came out the other day.”

Faye hit Play and Carmel said into the camera, “I’ve been thinking about how good it feels when someone is nice to you.

How it can turn your day around, especially when you’re feeling low.

Let’s try something. Here comes my assistant.

Hi, Maeve. I’m recording. Do you mind? I’ll show you before I post it. ”

“Sure. What’s today’s topic?”

“Fishing for compliments. What do you think of these earrings?”

“Oh. Um. They’re great.”

“Say more,” Carmel urged. “Embarrass me.”

“Oh. Right. Sure. You always look fabulous, Carmel. You know that. I wish I had your taste. Also, you’re a great boss.

You give us French Exit Fridays and you’re funny.

You also sing really well. Everyone is loving your designs for next season.

Marketing says you’re killing it with this campaign. More?”

“No, that’s perfect. Look, I’m blushing,” she said as she pointed at her cheeks.

They were bunched with her huge smile. “You’re a superstar, Maeve.

Thanks. Tell Marketing to buy you lunch for a month for being a good sport.

See?” Carmel set her chin on her fist and spoke to the camera.

“Ask people to tell you how great you are. Pay them if you have to. You’ll still feel fantastic.

” Her eyes danced with laughter, exactly the way he loved to see most. “Keep watching for a peek at the winter collection Maeve mentioned.”

“She’s so shameless,” Damian said on a choke of laughter, chest aching. “How many followers does she have?”

“Almost two million. She’s only been doing this for a month. I can dream!” she said with a chuckle. “But I thought you might have told her we’re, like, related or whatever. I just wanted to say thanks. I wasn’t sure how well you knew her.” She shrugged awkwardly.

I was married to her. He swallowed the words and tried to clear the lump from his throat.

“That was all Carmel. She’s—” Nosy. Pushy.

Generous and self-deprecating. “She’s actually the reason I wound up looking for Nick.

” He glanced up to where his father was placing steaks on the plate his wife brought him.

“She knew that I’d found him, so I imagine she got curious about all of you and came across your videos.

She would have known that she could give you a boost, doing something like that, but she wouldn’t have done it if she didn’t genuinely like what you were doing. She doesn’t lie.”

Don’t question how I feel.

“That’s so nice to hear.” Faye beamed. “I thanked her online, but will you tell her I really appreciate it?”

“Sure.” He wanted to text her now, but texting her once, with an innocuous message, wasn’t enough. He wanted more.

He wanted his wife.

There was a fine line between living a truthful life and owning up to being a maudlin wet blanket.

Carmel refused to be the latter. No matter how persistent her heartbreak was, she continued forcing herself to go through the motions of living a rich, fulfilling life—which was how she wound up at the opera house in Vienna.

Stella had purchased one of the premium boxes as a birthday present for Beate, her younger sister. When one of Beate’s student friends dropped out at the last minute, Stella invited Carmel to take the empty seat.

Carmel liked music and lacked a good excuse. Besides, she liked Beate, and Stella was treating all the women to salon visits. Carmel went along for the pampering as much as the company, then quietly booked the Emperor’s Tea Room for a reception afterward as icing on the Sachertorte.

It was fun to be with the young women, too. Beate was turning nineteen, and she and her friends were quivering with excitement at wearing long gowns and updos. Their mood was contagious and kept Carmel from wallowing in despair.

The weather was edging into fall, so Carmel chose a gown in copper silk with gorgeous geometric beading. She added long black gloves that she cuffed with a coiled bracelet shaped like a snake, and she wore the earrings that Damian had given her.

If pressed, she would admit her entire reason for coming was for the excuse to dress up enough to wear these earrings and feel a little closer to him.

Atlas and Stella’s younger brother, Elijah, joined them. Elijah was twenty-four, tall and blond like his sisters, very handsome in his tuxedo and far more interested in the other men in tuxedos than any of his sisters’ friends.

As they all settled in the box, Carmel took a moment to admire the exquisite architecture of the auditorium. The sparkle in the air should have made it a magical night, but deep down, she was as blue as blue could be.

Damian had returned from Australia. Zoia had told her he had said it went well. Carmel was dying to ask him herself, but she didn’t want to seem desperate. Maintaining their clean break was better.

Even though the silence between them was killing her.

She longed for him so badly, she looked for him compulsively, not realizing she was doing it until a sighting turned out to be a hallucination, leaving her swimming in disappointment.

It happened again as the lights were turned down and the performance was about to start. She glanced into a box across the auditorium and saw Damian in a tuxedo, staring right at her.

Her heart skipped, but she quickly tamped down on the jubilation that tried to take hold. It wasn’t him. It was never him. It was only a man who looked—

He rose and left his box with purpose.

“I think—” She abruptly stood. Was she deluded by wishful thinking?

“Where are you going?” Atlas asked her.

“I’ll be right back.” She shuffled past Elijah and out into the hall.

There were a few stragglers rushing to their seats, but as she strode toward the box where she’d seen Damian, she saw him striding toward her.

She stopped. It really was him. He wore a black tuxedo with satin lapels. His hair was freshly cut, his jaw clean and sharp, his mouth a stern line.

He stopped. For a long moment, they stared at each other while her mind crowded with questions.

“Is this a coincidence? Are you with someone?” she asked in horror.

“No. Zoia told me you were coming here with Atlas and Stella.”

“For her sister’s birthday, yes.” She looked back. “Do you want to say hello?”

“No,” he said flatly. Then, “Are you with someone? It looked like you were on a date.”

Jealous? That shouldn’t please her, but it did.

“Elijah is Stella’s younger brother. But thank you for that. He’s barely out of nappies and very not interested in women.”

“Oh.” He squeezed the back of his neck, gaze eating her up. “His loss. You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.” She brushed her gloved hands down the skirt of her gown. “How are you?”

“Fine. You?”

Her teeth found the edge of her lip to say “fine,” but she let out a huff of defeat. “Terrible,” she admitted. “I miss you.”

“Then why the hell didn’t you come back to me?” He took another urgent step forward.

“Sir!” an usher hissed and hurried toward them.

Damian looked around with annoyance, then jerked his head for her to follow him toward the ladies’ lounge.

“I’m not going in the bathroom with you! Come.” She waved the usher closer and told them she had booked the tea room. “Show us in, please.”

Moments later, the usher walked them into an opulent room that was clearly the pride of the opera house.

“Have you been in here before?” the usher asked. “It was designed by Josef Storck—”

“Please come back when the rest of my party joins us. I don’t want you to have to say it twice.” Carmel practically shoved the poor man out the door and closed it behind him.

They both took a moment to absorb the sheer beauty of the room, though, with its columns and intricate detailing, the silk-covered walls and abundance of gold leaf, the paintings on the ceiling and the table set with tiered plates of pastries and other sweets.

She looked at him, thinking this was surreal, standing in this time capsule of a room.

“Zoia said your visit with your father went well.”

“It did.” He rubbed his jaw. “I actually had a really good talk with Nick. He said he doesn’t regret marrying his wife.

I can’t fault him for it. She’s very sweet.

He loves the kids he had with her, but he feels terrible he didn’t know about me.

He said he wished he’d gone back to Greece at least once to see my mother. It made me think…”

“Oh, my God. I’m not pregnant, Damian!”

“I know. You would tell me if you were.”

She smiled faintly. “It’s nice that you know that. That you believe it.”

He shrugged one shoulder, dismissing that, then continuing.

“It was his talking about the time he could have had with my mother. Time when I could have known him if he had made other choices. I’m saying this badly.

” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “We’ve already lost five years that we could have spent together, Carmel.

I don’t want to miss another five years.

I don’t want to lose another five minutes. Ask me again if I love you.”

Her knees went weak. Her pulse started to race, but she cautioned herself not to hope.

The rise of anticipation, of excitement, was there all the same, elevating her to heights she might not survive if she didn’t arrive where she thought he was going.

She wasn’t sure she could survive the plummet back to earth.

The risk made her too dizzy to say anything but, “How could you?”

“How could I not ?” he responded with a crack in his voice that sent a fractured sensation through her chest. “You were right. We were falling in love. And I didn’t trust it.

I told myself we couldn’t be in love because we didn’t know each other well enough and that is such a lie.

I know you, Carmel. Every bit as well as you know me.

You’re funny and arrogant and curious. You fight dirty because you’re passionate.

Because you hate to lose. You have a big heart, but you’ve learned to hide it because it’s very tender and it’s been crushed too many times.

That heart is mine, though.” He pointed at her chest. “You gave it to me. I want it and I refuse to give it back. I swear to you I will look after it.”

She couldn’t help but fold her hands over the spot where that organ was trying to grow wings and fly straight at him. Her eyes turned hot and filled with sparkling lights. Her throat thickened.

“Don’t make me cry,” she sniffed.

“Don’t you make me cry,” he countered sternly.

“There hasn’t been anyone else for either of us for five years.

There never will be. So don’t leave me, Carmel.

Don’t tell me to let you go. You said you wanted someone who loves you, flaws and all.

You’re perfect exactly as you are. I love your sarcasm and your truth bombs and your messy past because it’s what makes you you .

I love the way you’re determined to claw yourself into a better future.

I want to be part of that future. I want you.

” He reached into his pocket, then went down on one knee as he opened the ring box.

She gasped and staggered backward into one of the columns.

“Will you marry me, Carmel? Will you be my wife? Again? Forever this time?”

Tears flooded her eyes. Happy ones. She covered her trembling mouth, barely able to squeak out the one word that wound up muffled by her gloves.

“Yes.”

He rose and swooped his arms around her. Her whole body shook.

It was pure joy to be here, back where she belonged.

To wrap her arms around his neck and feel his lips seal hers in rough, sweet possession.

He lifted her off her feet and she thought, Yes.

This is how it’s supposed to feel. Like she had lost her footing yet was perfectly safe.

She opened her mouth, kissing him back with equally fervent passion.

There was a click and a “Sir!” and someone cleared their throat.

Damian slowly let her slide to the floor and looked over his shoulder.

Carmel peered around him and saw Atlas in the open door, one brow lifted in inquiry.

“What?” she asked him.

“What are you doing?” Atlas demanded.

“Trying to get arrested for public indecency. What does it look like?”

“I’m proposing,” Damian said as he patted his pockets, then picked up the ring box from the floor.

Carmel hurried to pull her glove off and offered her hand.

“I want a proper wedding this time,” Damian said as he threaded the ring onto her finger. “It doesn’t have to be big, but I want our families there.” He tilted his head toward Atlas.

“Me too.” They kissed again, briefly, sharing big, joyous smiles.

Then Damian slipped his arm across her back and faced Atlas. “I think it would mean a lot to Carmel if we had your blessing.”

“If this is what you want, Carmel, then of course you have my blessing.” Atlas came across to hug her. Hug her. While she was recovering from that, he shook Damian’s hand. “Congratulations. I’ll let you tell Stella yourself. Are you coming back for the show?”

“No.” She glanced at Damian, eager to be alone with him. “But this room is for Beate. Tell her ‘Happy Birthday.’ I’ll see all of you in the morning.”

Three months later, Carmel walked down the makeshift aisle on Atlas’s arm.

She hadn’t asked her father to give her away. He was still in rehab anyway, but Damian’s new family was here. Zoia was hosting the ceremony in her garden. She beamed smugly as they took their position in front of the arbor.

Stella was Carmel’s maid of honor and Nick was standing up for Damian, wiping his eyes with pride.

Damian’s eyes were damp and hers were welling as she beamed up at him.

“Don’t start,” he whispered as he touched his thumb to the corner of her eye. “We’ll be here all day.”

That made her laugh, and they were able to complete their vows with only a few sniffs and chokes of deep emotion.

“I’m so proud of you,” Damian said when he put his ring in her hand.

“I was always searching for where I belonged,” she said as she threaded the band onto his hand. “It’s not a place. It’s here. With you.”

Their mouths were trembling when they kissed and she thought her heart might burst from her chest, it was so filled with the glowing knowledge that this time it would work.

That wasn’t a hope or a wish or a prayer.

It was belief. It was faith in them, an unwavering trust in her husband, and a deep, unconditional love shared equally between them.