Page 44 of Modern Romance July 2025 #4-8

It was the perfect opening. “And what was your upbringing like?”

He paused for a moment. She had no doubt a refusal was on his tongue, but he thought better of it. He understood this was what she needed, and he was going to try to give it to her. She smiled in spite of herself. Maybe he was high-handed, but he was trying.

“To be quite honest, you summed it up quite simply at the beach. There’s not much more to it.”

Of course there was, but she wondered if he even understood what she was talking about. Not just the facts, but what his childhood felt like. What it meant to him. So perhaps she had to go first to show him.

“My parents had quite a bit of fertility problems. They never spoke of it, but as I got older I began to realize they’d tried to have other children, but couldn’t.

So I was their sole focus. In many ways, I was lucky.

They are warm and steadfast and supportive.

I suppose they spoiled me, as best they could.

I don’t think they were ever keen on the Desmonds funding my training, but they knew I loved it. They wanted me to have what I loved.”

She watched his face as she spoke. There was some discomfort there. She half expected him to fidget. But instead, he began to fill his plate. Carefully. Methodically.

So, she kept talking. About growing up in the stables. About her love of horses. When he handed her the plate he had filled, then took the one in front of her, she didn’t object. Though she would have preferred to choose her own foods and portions, she wanted to draw him out more.

She got him to laugh at a story about when she’d been eight, sneaking out in the middle of the night to ride the horses, only to find herself narrowly missing a face-first fall into a pile of manure.

“It is your turn.”

“I have no such tales of… manure .”

She rolled her eyes. “Not manure specifically, Theo. A funny anecdote from your childhood that demonstrates what you were passionate about and willing to break the rules for. I loved those horses and the idea of riding them at night more than I valued not getting in trouble. Those things, even as a child, are a…measure of your personality. Of who you are.”

“I did not break the rules.”

“Never? You never broke the rules? Not even just out of spite or anger?”

“The boarding schools were very strict.”

“What about when you lived with your father?”

“I don’t suppose there were any rules to break.” He lifted a shoulder negligently. “I was far more likely to be the one setting them than breaking them.”

She couldn’t think of a thing to say to that. It struck her as impossibly sad. Her parents had always been so responsible, she’d wished they’d lighten up. But to have no responsibility at all, particularly to a child, well, that was a travesty.

“My father was irresponsible,” Theo continued, when she said nothing. “The parade of women… Well, they were not the kind who had any interest in being a stepmother, and I did not want one anyway. When I was home, I sought to find order. Our child will have order.”

Order. A stern word, but she thought what he really meant was safety . People to depend on. And since she’d always had that, she too wanted to ensure their child did. But there was more to childhood than order. There was warmth and fun and learning from your mistakes.

He must have read the sympathy she felt for him, because his expression hardened. But his words were straightforward enough. “I will expect rules for our child.”

“Yes. Rules are important. But we should agree on them upfront. And they’ll have to change as the child gets older.”

They both lapsed into a silence. For her it was because she was thinking now not just about a child , a baby , but the years and years she would be connected to this man by a child. Not just even for those first eighteen years.

Forever.

It was amazing how new implications for her future could continue to hit her out of the blue.

But she realized she’d been thinking of this as a problem to solve .

Forever , though, meant there was no solution.

He was the father of her child, and he wanted to be involved, which meant for the rest of her life she would have to deal with him.

Somehow try to compromise with him so they both agreed on the best course of action.

For their child.

“I have hired a doctor who will come live on the island for the duration of your stay,” Theo announced out of nowhere and with no preamble. “She will arrive tomorrow.”

Rebecca stared at him, the forkful of food caught there halfway to her mouth. “I beg your pardon?”

“The doctor we used initially will not work. Too many ties to my father. Dr. Doukas comes highly recommended, her education impeccable.”

“I’m sure that’s all true, but there is no need for you to hire a doctor for only a few days.”

He did not say anything right away. She could all but see him weighing the words he would use.

While something like panic began to beat in her chest. This was what it would be like forever. Him making decrees. Him taking her places she hadn’t agreed to be. Him calling all the shots.

Still, despite how her breath struggled to come in and out easily, she spoke carefully.

She would be reasonable. She would put her foot down.

“I have an appointment in less than two weeks with my doctor. They are going to do an ultrasound, and I— we —can find out if we’re having a boy or girl.

You are welcome to come. To that appointment. In Ireland . With my doctor.”

“That is no longer the case.”

The words got stuck in Rebecca’s throat, a lump of rage too hot and hard to speak past.

“I took the liberty of canceling this appointment for you. There is no point to you going back to Ireland. The child must have two parents in his life, and we cannot do that flitting back and forth across a continent. You will come to this conclusion eventually.”

Because he spoke of the child , she did not let her full temper loose. He was wrong. Everything he was doing was wrong , but it wasn’t selfishly. Or not fully selfishly—he hadn’t offered to move to Ireland, had he?—but this was what he thought was best for the baby.

She just somehow had to get through that thick, self-absorbed billionaire skull and make him realize she had feelings and needs and rights, too.

“You are supposed to consult the people you’re deciding things for,” she managed through gritted teeth. “You do not just get to choose for me because you think it’s best.”

“But this is the right course of action.”

“It doesn’t matter if it’s right or wrong. I have a say. How would you feel if someone swooped in and told you what was going to be done? Changed your appointments?”

“It depends,” he replied evenly. “Are they the correct things to be done?”

It was like talking to a brick wall. She wanted to scream at him. Hurl the entire contents of this table. And then run . Back to Ireland. Her doctor. Her plans. Her life.

But this would not solve anything. No doubt he would follow her, stop her. No matter how hard or fast she ran. No matter how over-the-top ridiculous she found him, he was still the father of her child.

So, he had to understand , and she didn’t have the words to get through to him.

But that gave her an idea.

So she stopped arguing.

And began plotting instead.